He stepped out into the sunlight and the dumbfounded woman stared as he left. Just as the old man was disappearing into the forest, he turned into a big bear. It had been the bear spirit who had summoned the woman to become a plant healer.
Black Foot bear shaman during a healing ceremony (Catlin 1844-1845)
A bear shaman or bear dreamer is not only a master of healing herbs but also someone—as seen among the Germanics, Romans, and Celts—who can inspire warriors and bestow them with courage, strength, and discretion in battle. The following is a story about a Pawnee who was a bear shaman and a war chief (Spence 1994, 308).
There was once a boy of the Pawnee tribe who imitated the ways of a bear; and, indeed, he much resembled that animal. When he played with the other boys of his village he would pretend to be a bear, and even when he grew up he would often tell his companions laughingly that he could turn himself into a bear whenever he liked.
His resemblance to the animal came about in the following manner. Before the boy was born his father had gone on the warpath, and at some distance from his home had come upon a tiny bear-cub. The little creature looked at him so wistfully and was so small and helpless that he could not pass by without taking notice of it. So he stooped and picked it up in his arms, tied some Indian tobacco around its neck, and said: “I know that the Great Spirit, Tiráwa, will care for you, but I cannot go on my way without putting these things around your neck to show that I feel kindly toward you. I hope that the animals will take care of my son when he is born, and help him to grow up to be a great and wise man.” With that he went on his way.
On his return he told his wife of his encounter with the little bear. He told her how he had taken it in his arms and looked at it and talked to it. Now there is an Indian superstition that a woman, before a child is born, must not look fixedly at or think much about any animal, or the infant will resemble it. So when the warrior’s boy was born he was found to have the ways of a bear, and to become more and more like that animal the older he grew. The boy, quite aware of the resemblance, often went away by himself into the forest, where he used to pray to the Bear Spirit.
On one occasion, when he was quite grown up, he accompanied a war party of the Pawnees as their chief. They traveled a considerable distance, but ere they arrived at any village they fell into a trap prepared for them by their enemies, the Sioux. Taken completely off their guard, the Pawnees, to the number of about forty, were slain to a man. The part of the country in which this incident took place was rocky and cedar-clad and harbored many bears, and the bodies of the dead Pawnees lay in a ravine in the path of these animals. When they came to the body of the bear-man a she-bear instantly recognized it as that of their benefactor, who had sacrificed smokes to them, made songs about them, and done them many a good turn during his lifetime. She called to her companion and begged him to do something to bring the bear-man back to life again. The other protested that he could do nothing.
“Nevertheless,” he added, “I will try.” If the sun were shining I might succeed, but when it is dark and cloudy I am powerless.”
The sun was shining but fitfully that day, however. Long intervals of gloom succeeded each gleam of sunlight. But the two bears set about collecting the remains of the bear-man, who was indeed sadly mutilated, and, lying down on his body, they worked over him with their magic medicine till he showed signs of returning life. At length he fully regained consciousness, and, finding himself in the presence of two bears, was at a loss to know what had happened to him. But the animals related how they had brought him to life, and the sight of his dead comrades lying around him recalled what had gone before. Gratefully acknowledging the service the bears had done him, he accompanied them to their den. He was still very weak, and frequently fainted, but ere long he recovered his strength and was as well as ever, only he had no hair on his head, for the Sioux had scalped him. During his sojourn with the bears he was taught all the things that they knew—which was a great deal, for all Indians know that the bear is one of the wisest of animals. However, his host begged him not to regard the wonderful things he did as the outcome of his own strength, but to give thanks to Tiráwa, who had made the bears and had given them their wisdom and greatness. Finally, he told the bear-man to return to his people, where he would become a very great man, great in war and in wealth. But at the same time he must not forget the bears, nor cease to imitate them, for on that would depend much of his success.
“I shall look after you,” he concluded. “If I die, you shall die; if I grow old, you shall grow old along with me. This tree”—pointing to a cedar—“shall be a protector to you. It never becomes old; it is always fresh and beautiful, the gift of Tiráwa. And if a thunderstorm should come while you are at home throw some cedar-wood on the fire and you will be safe.”
Giving him a bearskin cap to hide his hairless scalp, the bear then bade him depart.
Having arrived at his home, the young man was greeted with amazement, for it was thought that he had perished with the rest of the war party. But when he convinced his parents that it was indeed their son who visited them, they received him joyfully. When he had embraced his friends and had been congratulated by them on his return, he told them of the bears, who were waiting outside the village. Taking presents of Indian tobacco, sweet-smelling clay, buffalo-meat, and beads, he returned to them, and again talked with the he-bear. The latter hugged him, saying:
“As my fur has touched you, you will be great; as my hands have touched your hands, you will be fearless; and as my mouth touches your mouth, you will be wise.” With that the bears departed.
True to his words, the animal made the bear-man the greatest warrior of his tribe. He was the originator of the Bear Dance, which the Pawnees still practice. He lived to an advanced age, greatly honored by his people.
The story tells of the initiation of a bear medicine man. The young man died and was revived by the animals, and through this his real mission in life was revealed to him. When Native Americans who live in bear country kill a bear, they conduct a similar revival ceremony so that the spirit of the bear can reincarnate.
The Bear Spirit Posture
A bear draws its immense power out of its middle region, out of the solar plexus, the power chakra that is located between the navel and the heart area. One can witness such power when observing bears. Bear shamans also draw their energy from this center, which Hindus call the manipurna chakra. “The yogi who concentrates on this chakra achieves continuous siddhi and is able to find hidden treasures.4 He is freed of all sickness and knows no fear of fire,” says Sivananda (Friedrichs 1996, 53). Carlos Castaneda (1925–1998) also describes the solar plexus as the source of the shaman’s magical power.
The first bodily reaction to sudden shock or panic is experienced in the ganglia of the sympathetic nervous system behind the solar plexus. The feeling can be described as a “punch in the gut.” On the other hand, it can be experienced as a sudden surge of energy, which enables the shocked person to react instinctively and overwhelm the enemy in an instant or save someone’s life by courageous action. Shamans or mediums often feel that their solar plexus “opens” during their popularly termed OBEs, or out-of-body experiences. The “spirit body” or “subtle body”—according to the testimony of spiritual mediums—floats on a gossamer-thin “silver string” coming out of this energy center and can experience nonsensory dimensions (Storl 1974, 206).
Left: Bear spirit posture (drawing by Nana Nauwald, 2002) Middle: “Shaman in contact with the bear spirit” (Nivkh wood carving, Siberia). Right: Menhir, Saint-Germain-sur-Rance, France, approximately 2000 BCE.
Elaborate research carried out by cultural anthropologist Felicitas Goodman shows the connection of this chakra with the bear spirit and its healing power. She investigated states of trance and different body positions taken by shamans when they connect with a god or an animal spirit. Each spirit being requires that the human take a different body position when seeking contact. The “bear positio
n”—also called the “healer position”—makes it possible to open the soul for the bear spirit and let its healing energy flow in; it is usually a standing position. The fingers are rolled in and held over the navel so that the knuckles of the index finger touch slightly. The knees are slightly bent, and the feet are parallel to each other and planted solidly on the floor (Goodman 2003, 165). This typical bear position can be verified in statues and carvings in many historical and modern cultures.
Chapter 2
Bear Caves and Neanderthals
Europa. “The West.” the bears are gone
except Brunnhilde?
or elder wilder goddesses reborn—will race
the streets of France and Spain
with automatic guns—
in Spain,
Bears and Bison,
Red Hands with missing fingers,
Red mushroom labyrinths;
Lightning-bolt mazes,
Painted in caves,
Underground.
Gary Snyder, “The Way West, Underground,” in Turtle Island
Husky Carlo lives near the edge of the forest in a small cabin. He has a workshop there where he creates art with metals and other materials. In his folksy manner, he tries out unusual metal alloys, carves horns, bones, and antlers, and polishes various rocks working them all into unique works of art. Some call him a “junkyard bear” because he is often seen looking through “worthless” things in junkyards. He calls himself a free artist, a label that lets him live an unusual life with dignity.
One day, Carlo chugged past our place with a big load of wood for the winter. He stopped to pass the time of day, and our invitation to have some coffee sounded fine to him.
“But don’t make a new batch just because of me. Cold coffee is fine, too, as long as there’s sugar in it.”
When we had settled down at a table outside, he said with a twinkle in his eye, “So, writing books, are you? Just can’t leave those trees standing, can you?” And then with sincere interest he asked, “So what are you writing about?”
I told him that, at the moment, I was writing about the city of Berne, Switzerland, where countless old “bear restaurants” and “bear fountains” are named after the city (Berne = bear) and a bear park in the city is inhabited by real bears—and that the city was founded eight hundred years ago by the Duke of Zaehringen after he had slain a bear in a beech forest where the Aare River loops.
“When I came home from Berne, something strange happened to me,” I continued. “As I walked through the forest and up the mountain . . . I was probably exhausted as I hadn’t slept much . . . Anyway, how should I put it? It was suddenly as if I was walking through an enchanted forest. And suddenly, the forest spoke to me—the firs and beeches, the ferns and rocks—and said that it is so sad that there are no more bears here!”
I noticed a look that was hard to place in Carlo’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything and continued drinking his coffee.
“And then that night I even dreamt of a huge bear,” I continued, “I dreamt he was standing over our bed and licking our small son’s face; right at that moment, the little guy [our son] woke up and started crying.”
“Hmm,” Carlo grumbled in a way that sounded uncannily bear-like and stroked his beard as if stroking some deep thoughts out of it.
“Anyway, not long afterwards, my wife also dreamt of a huge bear in the sky that was flailing with its paws and leaving streaks of lightning-like tracks from its claws in the sky,” I went on, telling him what had been stirring our souls since we had started this research about bears.
“So, you want to tell people something about bears,” Carlo said in a calm voice, which, nevertheless, did betray a little bit of excitement.
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Do you know anything about bears?” I asked without expecting much of an answer—Carlo had mainly seen school walls from the outside and did not seem to be much of a reader either. But he looked at me like he was about to tell me an important secret.
“You know bears are like people. They have souls like people. But like people from way back who still lived free and wild in nature before they were constricted into settlements and became fearful and isolated themselves from other living beings. You know what I mean? Look over there. Do you see the Saentis?” Carlo paused so I could keep up with his unusual thoughts. I looked over Lake Constance, over into the area around the city of St. Gallen, which can be seen well from our mountain home. The sacred Saentis Mountain raged up into the sky shining like an opal.
Carlo continued, “There are caves up there. They’re named Dragon’s Den, Wild Man’s Cave, Wild Chapel, and so on. The Neanderthals, early Stone Age people, lived there peacefully with bears. At that time, people could still understand the language of animals. The Neanderthals are called stupid and lacking in culture nowadays, but, really, we are the primitive people, degenerate by comparison. Primitive actually means connected to the pristine, to nature.” He paused as if reminiscing. “These Neanderthals didn’t really distinguish much between human and animal, and between human and bear anyways. Of course, the bears that lived in the caves with them were seen as especially mighty and sacred. They could protect them from hungry wolves or saber-toothed tigers. The cave people kept the bones and skulls of the bears and buried them ceremoniously so that the bear spirit would stay with them—and whenever they did hunt bears for their warm furs or fat for wounds and sickness, they did it only with permission of the bear spirit and only at certain sacred times. They drank the blood of the sacrificed animal, too, in order to get power from it. They hung bear claws around the necks of their kids so that the mighty bear spirit would also protect them. Yes, these people lived with bears! Even nowadays some primitive hunting peoples in East Asia keep a bear as an honored guest in their village.”
Carlo talked like someone who had been there, either as a Neanderthal or as a bear in a cave. He spoke like a visionary. Bears as friends and living companions of Stone Age humans—so to speak, as pets! Theosophists and other esotericists make similar claims: During the “Age of Atlantis,” human beings were clairvoyant. They strutted along with gods and divine heroes and communicated with the group soul of animals fearlessly and without superstition; they communicated with them through rites and ceremonies and also, of course, with the mighty bear spirit. But what researcher would take such assertions seriously?
My university professors who taught me prehistory saw things fundamentally differently. It was always a question of the relentless fight for survival, of rivalry with the shaggy beasts for protected caves over which these animal-like hominoids disputed with the beasts using smoke, noise, and pit traps and by rolling stones down cliffs. According to this theory, “survival of the fittest” was the motto of the Stone Age. Not only did they fight over living quarters, they were also greedy for bear meat and fat to stave off hunger. They desired the bear’s bones to make scrapers and daggers, its sinews to tie things, its fur as blankets and cloaks, its lower jaw as a bludgeoning weapon, and its teeth for magical ornamentation. The human being has always been an exploiter who knows no scruples, the eternal Homo economicus!
According to this same theory, irrational superstition or fear had driven these early hominoids to ceremoniously bury bear skulls and draw bears on the walls of the caves. Cultural anthropologists speak of defensive magic, and psychologists hold it up as proof of the primeval angst inherited by humans into modern times.
Was it as Carlo, who looked ever more like a bear in human form to me, claimed? Or were the learned professors right? Had they perhaps projected their own acquisitiveness and fear onto bears and wild people? Did the scanty finds from excavations and cave expeditions encourage the projection for a worldview that is not unambiguous?
Illustration of Neanderthals hunting a cave bear
An Enigmatic Woman
Carlo finished his coffee and headed back to his place. For a long time, I looked over toward the Swiss mountains and thought about bear caves and Neander
thals.
Neanderthals were an old human race, square-built with strong bones and jaws, thick bulges as eyebrows over the eyes, and a brain size that even somewhat exceeded that of modern humans. During the Middle Paleolithic, that is, during the last interglacial and the last ice age, Neanderthals settled in the Near East, parts of North Africa, and the tip of Asia that is now called Europe.
Experts initially believed that the first Neanderthal skeleton, which was discovered by chance in 1856, was a “pathological idiot” or maybe a Cossack who had been left behind and died when Napoleon’s army retreated. When more skulls and bones were discovered, Darwinists believed that their theory of evolution had been proven and that the missing link had been found between modern humans and their ape-like ancestors. They proposed that Neanderthals were an inferior human primal species that was completely eradicated by the more highly developed Homo sapiens. As ever more facts came to the surface, though, the theory fell apart like a house of cards—not only did Neanderthals use fire, but they also carved blades, hammers, scrapers, and arrowheads out of firestone with distinctive style and sewed with sinews and leather straps to make tents and clothing. It became clear that they had a sophisticated culture that enabled them to endure cold winter snowstorms and extreme drops in temperature.
Bear Page 3
