Medicine Wheel: Water and the West

by Judy Winters

After cleansing with Florida Water, we sip our mugwort tea and contemplate the gifts of water. A group of us are taking time to experience one of the elements in depth. Water is our first home – before air and earth we are soothed by the oceanic sounds and the warm amniotic fluid of the womb. Each element – water, air, fire and earth – has various states of being and in those states of being, their own special gifts and teachings. Water can be solid, liquid, or gas, still, rushing, clear, cloudy, destructive, useful, and so on. It can be used for cleansing, cooking, drinking, as a source of power, for baptism or initiation, and more. In some of its obvious natural expressions, it is the mighty ocean, the babbling brook, the rushing river, the placid lake, the static marsh.

As a suburban shaman, it is one of my tasks to assist the non-rural population in re-establishing a relationship with Nature. Like any relationship, you get out of it what you put into it. A good relationship takes time, commitment, a slowing down, listening, and observing. It also requires response.

We move from tea ceremony to preparing an offering for Water, filling little packets with crushed coca leaves and tobacco. Then, gathering rainstick and rattle, we head out to a nearby nature center.  Upon entering the park, we conduct a brief ceremony using an ancient Peruvian chant to thank earth, water, air, and fire for their presence. Following the trail through the woods, we eventually reach a creek with its own tiny waterfall splashing over large, ancient rocks. Standing on a quaint wooden bridge, we ceremoniously drop the contents of our packets into the water and settle on the rocks. There we engage in a guided flowing water meditation accompanied by the gentle sounds of rainstick and rattle. Flowing water is time, evolution, our own emotions, sometimes moving effortlessly around or over objects and sometimes getting dammed up.

From here we amble a short piece to the wetlands. Wetlands or marshes are areas of decomposition where water is giving way to earth. The old very slowly making room for the new. Still water, if it is relatively clear, is also an excellent gazing medium to receive visual impressions of the quality of our lives and/or the world. Frogs (tears and the power of sound), serenade us, dragonflies (breaking through illusions) buzz around our heads and yes, even the occasional mosquito (temporary irritations that give us an itch not to stagnate) assist in this entrancing activity.

Since there is no ocean to experience at the nature center, we take time to do an ecstatic posture journey, simulating in body the physique of the albatross. We feel ourselves carried by the wind over a vast sea with no land in sight. The salt breeze renews our vitality as we swoop at dolphins at play.

In Peruvian cosmology, water is associated with the west on the medicine wheel. The east-west axis symbolizes the earth day starting with dawn, ending with dusk and the seasons from spring to fall. In terms of human life, east is birth and west is a decline toward death, which, not coincidentally, is also a time of showing our most brilliant hues. As far as geography is concerned, the east focuses on conscious enlightenment while the west features Freud and the exploration of the unconscious. Water is often considered an apt symbol of the unconscious. We take a moment to explore this thought. Someone has a cup, which we fill with water. One of us tries to press the water down. It's a parable of what happens when we try to push down our emotional issues as they rise to the surface of consciousness. The water overflows from the cup and makes a mess on the holder's pants.

We finish our day telling stories about water. Some of the stories are filled with a sense of fun – splashing in the water, exploding water balloons Others are salvation stories. The one I tell has a traumatic element. Neither my mother nor grandmother had learned to swim, and both grew up fearing water. Mom wanted things to be different for me, so she signed me up for a swimming class. To pass the class, each student had to either dive or jump from the high dive.

On exam day, I stood trembling at the end of the diving board. I looked down and could not jump (no way I was going to dive!). The instructor came up behind and spoke in a cajoling tone about how I could do it. But I couldn't. Finally, in frustration, she pushed me off.

Unprepared for what had just happened, I felt water flood my nose and mouth. Panicking, I struggled to come to the surface. I passed the class, but I am just afraid of water today as were my forebears.

Getting in touch with Nature is a way of getting in touch with ourselves. It is an avenue of learning to live in harmony with our world and ourselves. Peace.

Judy Winters practices Peruvian-based suburban shamanism. To participate in an elemental workshop or to receive information about private or group sessions, contact her at 770-391-0991 or judy@singingshaman.com.