The Shaman's Mirror

by Hope MacLean

  HOPE: If a person is understanding things from many directions, it is by means of the iyari?

  ELIGIO: Yes, that power, that is iyari.

  “Translating from many directions” is a Huichol expression in Spanish that means a person with shamanic abilities is receiving messages from the gods. I clarified this point in my next question.

  HOPE: And when a person is receiving messages from the gods, it is by means of the iyari?

  ELIGIO: Yes, exactly. But [only] if it [the iyari] is already in tune [Sp.: ya coordina] with them. You make it in tune when you are studying [that is, learning to become a mara’akame], and you are in tune by means of this. An electricity.

  Here he means that a person “tunes” the heart to the gods through the pilgrimages and other actions required to become a mara’akame. Once a person is in tune, it is as though an electrical current passes between the person and the gods, carrying messages.2

  Even though a person develops the iyari so that it can receive messages from the gods, using the capacities of the iyari alone are not enough for the making of yarn paintings. A person must also use mind, for which Eligio uses the Spanish word “mental.” Here is how Eligio distinguishes the two capacities. He talks about the mind and about the knowledge of shamanism, by which he means knowledge perceived through the heart. Both are required in order to paint.

  ELIGIO: Shamanism is one thing, and mental power is something else. Because even if I know something about shamanism, I need to have mental power to do my work. Mental is different, it is to translate and make things. And you need both powers, right, to do the work.

  HOPE: Shamanism is in order to see?

  ELIGIO: Yes, it is to see.

  HOPE: And mental power is to translate and make the yarn painting?

  ELIGIO: That’s it.

  HOPE: You need the two, then?

  ELIGIO: That shaman has to have the two powers to be able to make things, and if he doesn’t have both, even if he is a good shaman, what will he gain? He won’t be able to do anything. That’s how it is.

  He distinguishes between painters who have developed both capacities and those who have not. Some painters use only the mind; Eligio is careful to say that they too can paint well, since they are focusing just as a person focuses through shamanic study.

  HOPE: And are there some people who do yarn paintings who are not shamans, and others who do them who are shamans?

  ELIGIO: Well, those who do yarn paintings who are not shamans, they only base themselves in mental powers. Or it is mental power that they have opened. They just take note of something and more or less have an idea, and they make it. But still, more or less, I don’t think they are very deficient. They do well with their minds. They are also concentrating. They do that.

  To clarify the difference between mind and iyari further, I groped for an analogy and hit upon the perhaps awkward idea of a car and driver. The mind is like the steering wheel, and the iyari is like the motor; without a motor, the car goes nowhere; but without a steering wheel, the strongest motor can only spin its wheels.

  HOPE: And the mind is like the guide . . . as though I were driving a car, I hold the wheel.

  ELIGIO: Exactly. That’s how the mind is.

  HOPE: And iyari is like the motor of the car?

  ELIGIO: It’s the most important. It’s what you need. That is iyari. In Spanish, they say “heart”; in Huichol, we say “iyari.” It is the power that is the breath of the whole body.

  I then asked him about the link between iyari and becoming a shaman. He clarified that through the training and pilgrimages required to become a mara’akame, a person opens the heart so that it will be able to receive messages from the gods.

  HOPE: And if a person is becoming a shaman, do they strengthen the iyari, or do they open it?

  ELIGIO: They open it. Now they begin to understand. After, it [the idea] comes out and then they are ready [to make art].

  HOPE: The ideas, the messages, come out?

  ELIGIO: You think of them, then they come out.

  A mara’akame is a person with his or her heart open. During the training, a mara’akame who has been given the power by the gods can help another person open his or her heart.

  ELIGIO: Oh yes, there is among shamans—if that one is not . . . if his iyari is covered, many healers know how to open it.

  HOPE: Does the shaman have his heart more open?

  ELIGIO: Yes, because the shaman has it open, well, and those who don’t know, well, it is closed. For those who know . . . For example, [pointing to a child] this one doesn’t know, and if I were a shaman, very good, I could open his mind [Sp.: mente] so that he would learn faster. That’s how it is, but with the power from the deer, with the power from the gods. It is because they have given me power that I can do this. And that’s how they do this. The iyari.

  I then shifted to the idea of kupuri and asked about its role in relation to iyari.

  HOPE: And kupuri—I don’t understand what is the difference between kupuri and iyari.

  ELIGIO: Little difference. Kupuri means the same [as I have been saying]. And kupuri means a thing very blessed, which is the iyari. It can be blessed with the iyari of the gods—bless your body, it has been blessed. That is the word it means.

  In Eligio’s explanation, kupuri means energy, while iyari, or life, is the product of the energy. The energy of kupuri blesses, or irradiates, a person’s entire body, including the iyari. The gods have iyari, and so do people; kupuri is the energy that is transmitted between them.

  HOPE: And kupuri is like the electricity that comes?

  ELIGIO: That comes to you from the gods who are blessing that person.

  HOPE: And they send from their iyari the electricity that is the kupuri?

  ELIGIO: Yes.

  HOPE: And it arrives at my iyari?

  ELIGIO: Yes.

  HOPE: Now I understand it. . . .

  ELIGIO: Iyari is breath. Kupuri is the life, is the life of the gods, that the gods may give you life. They give you power [Sp.: poder]. That’s what that is.

  HOPE: Is it like force [Sp.: fuerza]?

  ELIGIO: Force, yes, force. More force from the gods is kupuri.

  Kupuri can be transmitted from gods to humans with the help of a mara’akame. In this way, a person’s life and energy are increased. Eligio uses the analogy of a glass of water (iyari) that can be filled up to the top with kupuri. If some water is lacking, a mara’akame can give more.

  ELIGIO: It [kupuri] is a power. Here among ourselves, that’s how we use it. Among shamans, they give it—kupuri—and it is a power, a bit more. For example, to say, well, suppose this glass of water is a life, yes, an iyari. It’s lacking a little bit, or here, like this. Good, I am going to give you a little bit more. I have to fill it up. It is one day more, a little bit more, then this glass will have this.

  HOPE: And are there people who lack kupuri?

  ELIGIO: Yes, a lack of . . .

  HOPE: Force?

  ELIGIO: Of force of the gods. That’s kupuri.

  HOPE: And those people are very weak?

  ELIGIO: Exactly, yes.

  We continued on with the idea of how kupuri appears to the shaman or how it is seen.

  ELIGIO: But that is the power—they are magic powers. No one can see them, only the shaman is watching what he is doing. That’s how it is.

  I then inquired where kupuri is located in the body. Eligio insisted that although kupuri enters through the head, it spreads throughout the body. And even though it is carried in blood, it is carried in other parts of the body as well.

  HOPE: Does a person have kupuri in their own blood?

  ELIGIO: Well, what you receive, the power, if you have it in all your body, all your body has it.

  HOPE: Is it seated in the head?

  ELIGIO: That is, it is seated in the whole body. It extends throughout the body. It does it—everywhere receives it.

  HOPE: Is it received via the head or via the heart?
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br />   ELIGIO: It arrives via the head, then spreads throughout the body.

  Finally, I returned to the idea of how iyari is represented in yarn paintings. Eligio interpreted this as a question about how images or visions arrive and how a person translates them into a painting. He explained that the messages from the gods that the person sees through the iyari appear as though tape-recorded there. Then the artist can use his or her mind to comprehend the images or the sounds and make a picture of it. In this way, a person learns many different designs.

  HOPE: And how do you represent iyari in the yarn paintings?

  ELIGIO: Iyari? Well, you can present it in the form that you think it. That which comes from them, that which happened, that which the gods did, it is as though you saw it, saw it and it stayed seated in your body. That is what can take place in the yarn painting. To make designs because you carry it in your mind. That is what you will make. No, it’s no more than that. From there, then it [the designs] comes out. Different ones. About many things it comes out. They [the gods] tell you a thing, here it comes out [in art]. From the mind. It opens then, to be able to do that.

  HOPE: Many different designs come forth?

  ELIGIO: Now they come out of there.

  HOPE: From the heart, from the iyari?

  ELIGIO: Yes, from the heart. That is, from the moment when a person learns about this.

  A person learns these designs at night during a ceremony, when a spirit arrives and teaches them. The expression “it comes walking” (Sp.: viene caminando) is another Huichol expression in Spanish referring to the arrival of a spirit during the ceremony. All night a person may learn. The next morning, the artist will have many new designs.

  ELIGIO: Because in one night, almost you will . . . let’s suppose that [the ceremony begins] at six or seven o’clock [and lasts] until midnight. From midnight until five in the morning. That makes about eleven hours, you can be learning about this. It [a spirit or god] comes walking. It comes walking and [what it teaches to you] it stays with you here, here it will stay. In the moment that you do this work [that is, make yarn paintings], you can do it [that is, you have the power and designs], and now it comes out of you. Like a recorded tape, then . . .

  HOPE: And with that, a person can make many designs in one day? That many designs come forth quickly?

  ELIGIO: Yes, because there you go . . . well, this is all [that you need].

  By using the mind as well as the ability of the mara’akame to see, an artist can develop many paintings, and all will have the same quality and power as the first.

  ELIGIO: Well then, since you have two, two powers—mental power and knowledge of that which is, that is to say, that which is of the shaman, and mental power is another thing. You can originate [Sp.: inventar] more [designs]. But with the same power. And there are more. From one, you go on making . . . From one, you go on to make four, five, but by shamanic power. And with just mental power, you can go on making another five more. From one [ceremony], that’s all. That is mental, to make up more, and that they always come out with the same power.

  Fabian González echoed Eligio’s explanations, in particular that both mind and iyari are needed to paint:

  HOPE: Does a person paint with the iyari also?

  FABIAN: The iyari. That is to say, a person thinks with this, right [indicating head]. But with this, what are we going to give? Because if we only had this [the head] and didn’t have iyari, what would a person do?

  HOPE: Only with the mind, with only the mind, it’s not enough?

  FABIAN: No, it doesn’t work. With [only] the iyari, the mind doesn’t work. Then the two work together for this [to make paintings]. Then also, if all you had was iyari, what good would you be? For this reason, a person has both. The iyari, and then the two work together. The iyari and the mind [Sp.: mente].

  I asked Fabian what kupuri means. He interpreted this as a question about what functions it serves. He responded that a person who has kupuri lives a normal, happy, contented life; without kupuri, he or she acts thoughtless or crazy.

  HOPE: And kupuri, what does that mean?

  FABIAN: Without kupuri, a person is crazy. He goes around without thinking. And if you have kupuri, you live well, contented. There are five meanings. Living contented. Working. Eating. And without kupuri, you are crazy—that’s how it is. Because you lack kupuri, so that you might be all right.

  To summarize, artistic production ideally comes from having the iyari open to the gods. Achieving a state of openness is something that a person develops through the training required to be a mara’akame; another mara’akame can facilitate this process. When an artist’s heart is open, tuned to the gods, images and ideas will flow in. Such an artist can attend a ceremony when the door to the spirit world is open and learn many new designs. By using the mind in conjunction with the heart, an artist converts the images and ideas into art. The artists emphasized that ideally both mind and iyari were required; iyari alone was not enough, although it is possible to do paintings solely with the mind.

  The Huichol ideas are not unlike the Western ideas of heart and mind. A Western artist might say a painting has “heart” or “soul,” but in Western terms, this attribute tends to signify feeling or emotion. It is not specifically a reference to the supernatural. However, the Huichol take this concept one step further, since an open heart is filled by or linked to the gods. The gods have iyari, and so do people; ideally the two are linked, as though by a bridge. Kupuri is the energy that comes from the gods through this channel.

  The Huichol aesthetic ideal is represented by an artist who has his or her iyari open to the gods. The artist’s iyari receives, and is charged with, kupuri carried in this channel. If the artist also has a well-developed mind, he or she will be a good artist. Without a good mind, the artist will not be able to express designs through art.

  This Huichol concept can be compared to the description of the good artist from an Aztec codex. The similarities are remarkable.3

  The true artist, capable, practicing, skilful, maintains dialogue with his heart, meets things with his mind.

  The true artist draws out all from his heart: makes things with calm, with sagacity; works like a true Toltec [that is, with skill]. (Códice Matritense de la Real Academia, cited in Anderson 1990, 153)

  The artists’ explanations also clarify why I began to feel that it is not necessarily important whether the subject matter of a particular painting comes from a specific dream or vision. What is important is whether the artist is in a state of receptivity or openness to the gods. Out of this openness comes the artistic work, which may have its specific source in a dream, a vision, or an intellectual thought.

  The Huichol aesthetic ideal seems to be an artist in direct communication with the gods. The artist uses art as a way of developing a channel of communication with the gods and of reflecting back to others the results of the exchange. Huichol art is not only a visual prayer, as early anthropologists such as Lumholtz understood it to be, but also a demonstration that vision exists. The ideal artist has an obligation to explain to others his or her vision. The yarn painting is one way of doing this.

  13

  arte mágico

  magical power in yarn paintings

  Once someone showed me a large Huichol beaded bowl that she had bought in Puerto Vallarta. She asked me to see whether I could discover anything about the bowl and its maker. As I held the bowl, I had a strange sensation of tingling electricity running through my arms. Afterward, I felt drained and exhausted.

  “What on earth did that bowl do to me?” I wondered. “Was it good or bad?”

  Later, I told Lupe about the incident and asked her what she thought of it.

  “That bowl was draining your energy,” she said. “It must have been a strong shaman who made the bowl. He was able to transfer his power into it. When you held the bowl and connected your mind to it, you activated its power.”

  Our conversation led me to wonder whether yarn paintings the
mselves have any form of shamanic power. Are the paintings simply representations of vision, of nierika and iyari, or do they have in themselves some form of linkage to the supernatural? Most of my information on the powers of yarn paintings comes from Eligio Carrillo. It is supplemented by information from Chavelo González de la Cruz. The information is fragmentary, but suggests that even commercial yarn paintings have some shamanic power.

  I asked Chavelo about sacred yarn paintings and how they should be handled. He described the traditional functions of the paintings this way: the Huichol always used to make yarn paintings round because they represent vows owed to all the powers of nature—the air, the ocean, the earth, all the things that make up nature. It is modern to make them as a square, even though they may contain original designs.

  I asked whether the Huichol ever displayed sacred yarn paintings, the way that Western buyers do. He replied that according to an old tradition, they could not put yarn paintings in a house where people lived. If a person made a yarn painting, he had to put it in a xiriki. It should not be left hanging around. Once inside the temple, the yarn painting never left it. It represented the temple itself. A person could take out the other offerings, but never a yarn painting.

  I asked whether all Huichol had these in their xiriki. According to Chavelo, everyone does—well, some may not. Perhaps for some people, their parents never taught them the meaning. But it is very important not to take them out. It is like cutting off your arm to do so. Chavelo elaborated that a painting is as much a part of the temple as a person’s arm is of his or her body. He asked whether you would cut off your own arm. A person can go in and look at it, but not take it out.

  Given these restrictions on sacred yarn paintings, I asked whether it was considered acceptable to make yarn paintings to sell. He replied that it is all right to make copies and sell them as long as you do not move the original. The copies can have the same meanings, but it is all right to move them.