By Heather Awen

In permaculture, everything has to meet more than one need. It’s called “stacking functions.”  I try to live my life by permaculture principles, as it appears to the most sensible movement today, along with Transition Towns.

In that spirit, the spring hair cut ceremony serves many purposes.  I have been told I have three times as much hair on my head than the average person, so when it gets warm I want a lot less hair on my head trapping heat.  Also it looks nicer as I cut off the dead ends.  And it provides materials for birds building nests.

I leave bits of organic thread and string I saved throughout the winter, ones I cannot use, for the birds, too. When the waves of song birds return to Vermont, I put on my activated carbon filter mask and step outside, trying not to inhale any neighbors’ idling cars exhaust or wood stove smoke. The hair and twines are stuck into metal holes which at one point may have anchored a blind on the back porch.  The birds should have an easy time pulling free the materials.

All ceremonies I do, like all living I do, has to benefit the whole, in practical ways. For me and the birds we have a win-win situation. They get nontoxic nest building supplies, my hair and string ends stay out of a landfill, and there is no waste.  This is the goal of my ceremonies. I didn’t have to say anything, and could rush out with mask on for protection and quickly push my hair into the holes. My intention was pretty clear. “Welcome back, birds, have some building materials. I hope they make a good home.”

This year the ritual meant more to me than usual. I had been living in a field for 6 weeks with no water, sleeping in a car, in 22 degree weather, with a black bear shaking the automobile at night, covered in yeast growing on my skin. All my family knew and all social services knew but no one did anything, even though I was unable to walk from cerebral palsy and the state declared I had to be provided nursing home level of care.  However, because of having Multiple Chemical Sensitivities, there was no safe housing for me. Apartments of propane heat, formaldehyde carpets and press board cabinets, VOC paints and grout, smoking tenants, cross ventilation with those using Febreeze and Glade Plug Ins, plus the mold so common in Vermont, even though Housing and Urban Development says that the state much make MCS accommodations like for any disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act, no one did.  HUD in Vermont didn’t care what their official stance is and no one else cared about the law or my life.

I was homeless a lot as a teenager but I was a punk traveler by choice, not a middle aged disabled woman.  There were no options like crashing on a couch, using public restrooms, washing clothing at a laundromat, bathing at a church, and finding food and clothing in dumpsters. All toxic.

In that experience one thing I learned was firsthand how it feels when your natural habitat is gone. The human natural habitat is gone.  I cried a lot about knowing what polar bears know firsthand. The ice floats drift farther away and the bears drown due to Climate Chaos.  I try to eat something with food dye in it, followed by vomiting.  We have lost our safety, we have lost our homes.

To be able to provide some nontoxic home building materials for the birds was an honor. The fact that I had a home meant I had survived a time no one expected me to live through, including myself, and could help others with making their own.

By Heather Awen; originally published at Adventures in Animism.

Recently my life has been so turbulent, I decided to head for the Neopagan basics learned in my youth. Center – ground – shield is a common 101 skill for most Neopagans, which I abandoned when I found most of Neopaganism to treat nature as a metaphor, not a real place. Unsure of how to proceed, the land taught me. The framework is based somewhat on the book Neolithic Shamanism by Raven Kaldera and Galina Krasskova. My bioregional animist twist is the fact that you are deep in location, not vagueness, and how to breathe.

Breathe deeply, remembering not to hold at the inhale. That causes stress hormones to release. Exhale long and deep, maybe make some noise, and if you want a pause, do it when your lungs are “empty.” I tend to get tight jaw muscles so I like to make noises when I exhale and move my face about. Vowels are always good. Hissing, too. Focus on the exhale, with your pelvic floor rising and then the muscles in the back of your ribs pushing the air out. When I start to exhale I might tense my pelvic floor, using the muscles that stop the flow of urine.

The image that helps me breathe best is that of a wave washing up into my guts and then leaving there, going out my ribs, up to my mouth. New wave comes in, rolling down my spine. If you look at an infant, they breathe with their whole bodies and it looks like a wave. When I can do that right, my chronic pain is reduced. Like a massage from the inside out. The bottoms of the feet also rise when exhaling if you pay attention, making this a full body experience.

Wave comes in, I expand in the whole body. Wave goes out, my body rolls slightly with the exhale. Pause if I want.

Breathing is a good way to get energy, whether we call it prana or anima or mana or ashe or what have you. I exhale thru my mouth when I need to release energy. I exhale with my nose when I need to keep energy. Living in an ashram when young I learned a lot of ways to breathe that change consciousness.

When wave breathing, I am very reminded/aware of how part of the One Breathe/Great Spirit/Creating I am. I do not own the breath. The breath has been breathed by many others and will be breathed by many more. The breath has breathed many others will breathe many more. I am united with rain forests and algae in each breath. Breathing for me is a global connection, unless I am actually breathing to some specific trees or other plants as a gift. (Which makes me high like sex.) The Creating and I are one.

Connected to the Oneness in a monist type of mystic state, I then return to my own Oneness. I let the breath gather around my belly button. Taoists might say exacting behind the naval, while Kaldera and Krasskova suggest a bit higher or lower depending on your center of gravity. Mine is bit high due to big ribs and large breasts.

Letting the breath make a golden ball there allows me to know that no matter what the day throws at me, I am in my center of gravity. I can “akido” it. I do not practice akido but do know many who do. Here is my (probably bad) explanation of akido which explains how I use centering: Akido is a martial art where you let your opponent’s lack of balance and use of force throw them off their center of balance and crash to the ground or into a wall. You stay focused on your center of gravity and move from there, allowing your opponent to flow around you and injury themselves with their own aggression.

Gathering that golden ball, I let my tap root extend down. I imagine a carrot. A real root like when digging for herbal medicine. Often it includes my whole lower body as the root. I do not use my legs much due to having cerebral palsy. My root self slides easily thru the basement, knowing to avoid the gas tanks, and then into the soil here.

When I do this at home, my root always does the same curves, which I think may be to move easier thru the hard rock of this part of VT. Marble, granite, that’s Vermont. I have never done this on sand, but I would assume that after the sand you could get to more solid ground. My goal is to be as hard as a burdock root to rip from the land. Knowing herbalists, gardeners and foragers understand how tightly the burdock root grabs the soil. I see small roots extend to grip even more tightly.

The water here is hard, ie rich with minerals. I draw this mineral mix up, as it fills my body with a flow and then goes back out the root.

Instead of the traditional Neopagan “pull up energy for yourself and release anything icky to the Earth,” the energy of this land moves all through me and my energy moves into it, neither taking nor dumping. The circulating makes me more at one with the land, as all my physical body tingles with the exchange. Being a sacred materialist, this is joy.

Any “waste” I have of so-called negative emotions (or any energy excess) can be given as a gift to the waste eaters. Bacteria and fungi, break it down. Anything that has outlived its purpose for me is recycled back into Life. In the real world there is no “away” and no waste to send there. Humans have always felt “bad” at times. Something must feed off our lost dreams, frustrations, and grief.

However, I also am exchanging anything about me including “good” feelings. I am not sure if a human good feeling is a good thing to everyone else. Assuming so is rather humancentric and anthropomorphic. There are sea creatures at the bottom of the deepest oceans who live on sulfur blasts. Good for them; not good for me personally to try.

Most animists seem to believe (and I concur) that energy is neutral. How you use it matters. Even more importantly, is how it flows and moves. Right now we have hoarding and depletion and excess all over the planet on every level. Global Weirding, the 1%, 200 species extinct a day, bad agricultural practices, our diets, ozone layer. The harmony of the whole is really whacked.

Therefore in grounding I let the flow be what it needs to be. Any clogs in me it moves, any stagnant areas it revitalizes, any parched places are drenched. This is done with just noticing what is happening. No control. I trust the land to know more than me what our place’s flow is.

The book Neolithic Shamanism had a new idea about shielding for me: being a mountain. The land where you are rises up around you. I am in VT, between the Green Mtns and the White Mtns (both aptly named) in the Piedmont, Appalachia North.

To blend in I try to be like one of the remaining mountains here, like Burke. This area had mountains a long, long time ago that wore down. The few who remain are held up by newer layers of rock and soil. I try to be a mini Burke. Who would notice that on the radar? This is bumpy land. Blend into the place much better.

It feels to me like being in a cave of place. In a mountain, rooted in the soil, I am HERE.

I do not know what to do if you are in Nebraska or some other startlingly flat place. A mountain would stick out, which is not good for shielding. Part of shielding is blending in, being invisible. Dropping Kilimanjaro onto Saskatchewan is sure to raise some eyebrows. In my experience the land would consider you crazy, disrespectful and perhaps dangerous.

You will have to figure out what is protective shielding where you are. Fog? Cacti? (Do not try to be a GMO corn stalk to blend in with a Monsanto monocrop.)

Bio: Heather Awen prayed to be one with the land and got severe multiple chemical sensitivities, which leave her in one of the most vulnerable human populations for homelessness, suicide, and OD by poisons, due the best case scenario being trapped in isolation for life away from all petrochemicals and those who use them. Learning there is no longer a safe human natural habitat and corporate greed denies the illness with which she lives has forced her to update her animism to match the real world. She lives in poverty in rural Vermont, doing MCS and crip justice activism, studying the cultural aspects of permaculture, praying to various Deities that like her, and searching for nontoxic art supplies and clothing, a living Inconvenient Truth. Adventures in Animism is her diary.

Note: a big thank you to all the artists who allowed me to use their images in this post! I encourage readers to check out their galleries at the links in the captions of the pictures.

This is part two of a two-part series; you may read part one here.

There are many purposes for shapeshifting—celebration, drawing on the power of the being you’re changing into, learning to change yourself, etc. There are also many techniques, some stationary, others involving dance and other movement. This version of shapeshifting is quieter, and is primarily for the purpose of creating connection with, and fostering awareness of, other beings. It’s a way to begin healing the rift we as a species have created between us and the rest of the beings we share this world with. It requires a certain level of intimacy; you can’t become a being without having some empathy for it, and the world could certainly do with more empathy all around.

By Sara Bean, http://acutecat.deviantart.com/

Although you can theoretically shapeshift (non-physically, of course) into any being (and I use that term to refer to animals, plants, waterways, mountains, and more), I recommend choosing a being who is physically close to you, such as a particular tree or waterway near your home, or a species of animal that you see frequently. Even in my fairly urban Portland neighborhood, I still have a huge maple tree right outside my kitchen window. No matter the weather or my state of health, I can still check on “my” tree to see how it’s doing, how many leaves are left today, who’s perched in the branches, and so forth. And I have a good vantage point to watch the crows, fox and grey squirrels, and scrub jays that frequent the tree and surrounding high places.

You’ve already created something of a personal connection there, but let’s talk about taking it further. How much time do you spend every day observing this being? If it’s something relatively stationary like a stone or pond, try to make a daily visit in all weather, at least as much as you’re able. Or, with animals, see if there’s a place where you can fairly reliably see individuals of the species, if not daily then at least regularly. Take note of what you see each time. How does the being change with the time of day, the weather, even the seasons? How does it fit into its niche in the ecosystem, and are there any changes in that over time? What about human impact?

Balance out all this experience with some research as well. Read about the being online and in books; talk to others who have worked with it. Get the objective viewpoint to balance out your subjective observations and impressions, and allow them to complement each other.

This all can be an investment of years. That’s okay. We spend years getting to know other people; it works for other beings as well. Even after you’ve tried shapeshifting to this being, you can still keep up the daily observations, just as you may regularly check in on loved ones.

By Kirsten Brown, http://unknown-binaries.deviantart.com

There’s no single, universal “right time” to make the step from observation to shapeshifting. A lot of it has to do with mutual trust; a being that doesn’t trust you won’t open up, and it’ll be harder for you to be receptive to a being you’re wary of. When you feel the time is right, go to the being. If the being is stationary, ask to sit on, against, or otherwise near it. For animals, sit where you’ve been able to observe them best (hopefully by now they’re used to your presence). If you are unable to be at the place itself, such as for health or safety reasons, find a place at home or otherwise where you can meditate for a while, undisturbed, and perhaps have some reminder of the being you’re connecting with at your side.

If you’ve already “spoken” with the being or a totemic representation thereof, great! If you haven’t done such communication yet, you may wish to use a guided meditation to introduce yourself. Here’s a simple one:

Close your eyes. Relax. Breathe. Be aware of where the being is in relation to you. Imagine a shining cord extending from your third eye to the being—not quite touching, but inviting the being to make that last step to complete the cord between you. Once the cord is complete, greet the being, and begin the conversation. When you feel the time is proper, ask the being for its help with shapeshifting, that you want to have a better understanding of it by becoming, even just a little, more like it. Allow it to answer as it will, and go from there.

If the being isn’t ready, respect that. Keep up your visits, and when you feel ready, try asking permission again (unless you have gotten a very firm “No, never, not at all” from the being).

Once you have gained permission, then it’s time to try the shapeshifting itself. Go back to the place where you can be with the being without disturbance. Close your eyes, breathe, and relax. Be very aware of your boundaries, physical and otherwise—where “you” end and the rest of the world begins. Now imagine those boundaries are becoming much more permeable.

By Jon Ascher, http://pachycrocuta.deviantart.com

Make physical contact with the being or its representation, and allow the boundaries between you and it to be more blurred. You may feel as though you are “melting” into each other, or you may feel your own form change and move to be more like that of the being. You may even feel you are being carried along by the being, a sort of “rider”; there may even be multiple representatives if you’re working with a very social animal such as schooling fish. Any way it manifests, allow this change to happen, and observe how your perceptions and thoughts change as well.

What is it like to be that being? How does it differ from being yourself? How do you feel? Is it fun? Scary? Do you feel curious? Are some things more important to you now than they were before, and are others less so? How comfortable are you in this form?

Is the being itself staying in contact with you while you shift? Try asking it questions, if you can, or share observations—after all, it’s the expert on being itself!

When you’re ready to come back, thank the being for its help. Then imagine what your body feels like normally, or state your name, your address, and other “human” things. Don’t rush it; allow yourself to ease back in, let the boundaries reform at their own pace. Once you’re awake, take some time to ground. Eat something protein-heavy, observe the way your hands move, recite the lyrics to one of your favorite songs. Do things that gently bring you back to being human.

After you’re done, think about how you feel about the being now. Do you have more empathy for its place in the world, and the challenges it may face? Do you feel differently about yourself and your own place here? What may you have learned from this experience that you didn’t know or understand before?

Do keep in mind that all of your impressions are still processed by your very human brain and mind, even in the depths of the shapeshift. You can’t entirely sever your connection to

By Ravenari, http://ravenari.deviantart.com/

being human. It is a good idea to check your impressions against more objective information, and to have sensitivity toward whom you want to identify with. It may not cause much trouble for you to be convinced that mosquitoes really suck other animals’ blood because they want to steal their power. However, shapeshifting into American Mink, and then being convinced that you now have to free all the caged mink at fur farms, is a bad idea, no matter how deeply you may have connected with that totem.

Done with care, shapeshifting can be a highly effective way to be more empathetic toward other beings, to raise our everyday awareness of their presence, and to foster greater consideration of them both individually, and as a society.

There’s a recurring dream I have; it started when I was young. In it, I take my form as a white wolf. I’m in a forest, and the forest is burning. The tall pines and fir trees crackle and split in the flames around me, and I can hardly breathe for the stinging clutch of smoke at my throat. Hot embers scorch the pads of my paws. The tops of the trees begin to topple over, weakened by the flames, and the ground is suddenly made more hazardous with smoldering logs. If I could only find my way out…where is my pack?

Arctic wolf mask by Lupa, 2011

I awaken suddenly, panting, startled, thrust back into my skin and flesh and bone all too quickly.

Human legend and lore is full of shapeshifters. Sometimes the changes are literal—physically transmuting the body into that of another animal, or even a plant or stone. Sometimes the person may become a breeze, or a waterway. Sometimes the change is conscious and consensual; other times…not so much.

There are other shapeshifters, too. They include those who take on many roles—Lugh Samhildánach (The Many-Skilled), who excelled at any task given, or polymaths like Leonardo da Vinci. Many people, from thespians to cosplayers, take on a new persona when they don particular clothing; we see this in the wearing of ritual regalia in many traditions as well.

Shapeshifting, for some, is only about taking on a role, wrapping a core self with a persona that may be worn or removed like clothing. But in a more ritualized, spiritual setting, shapeshifting is about becoming something other than ourselves.

The idea of stepping outside of the self and into another is often alarming to the Western post-industrial mindset. It brings up inaccurate images of mental illnesses, or at the very least identity confusion. We are taught that each person has only one identity, and while it may be tweaked a bit here and there depending on whether you’re talking to Aunt Mabel or your secret crush or a job interviewer, you’re still supposed to essentially be you.

Yet to be done fully, shapeshifting necessitates a very deep empathy with another being. Most of us don’t empathize beyond emotions; we allow ourselves to feel with another person’s pain, for example. But to really become another being, we have to open ourselves up beyond that, and set ourselves aside.

I am 23 years old, at my very first pagan gathering, a weekend celebration at Brushwood Folklore Center in New York. Night has long since fallen, and I am at the drum circle, with a fire burning brightly in the center. In my hands I hold my grey wolf skin that I have transformed into a dance costume with carefully tied leather straps. I have spent hours practicing dancing in it in my apartment for the better part of a year, but this is the first time I’ve been brave enough to dance in front of others.

I drape the hide over my head, slip my arms through the same holes that lupine muscle and bone once filled, and tie the hide to my head, wrists and ankles. I feel Wolf the totem, and wolf the spirit, slide over me with the hide, and I suddenly feel I am so much more than myself. I step into the lines of dancers circling around the fire again and again, and I—we, the wolves and I—begin to dance. And soon, it is just I, Wolf-I.

We require an Other place to shift into an Other self. It may be Other only in the sense that one’s physical setting has changed—going from work to home, for example. But the Other place may also be the land of dreams, or the spirit world of journeys, or a physical wilderness unlike one’s home territory—or a deliberate ritual setting.

The dreamland is often the first place we experience shapeshifting of some sort, due to its universality in our experiences, as well as its mutable nature. The dreamland may alternately be described as the subconscious romping ground of our brains and the cumulative inner landscapes we have inherited from our many ancestors, or entry into an entire world apart from us where we might literally meet our ancestors, among other spirits.

As we grow older and become more integrated into relationships with other beings, human and otherwise, we develop the ability to make subtle changes in ourselves according to present company and setting. The shifts are largely unconscious, and we may only be peripherally aware that they’re happening most of the time. By comparing how we present ourselves in various situations, we can begin to better understand the processes by which we change.

Ritual is a deliberate shift. We put on special vestments, create ritual space, and utilize items that are unique to that setting. We may still remain ourselves, though yet a different part thereof. But some of us also become other beings entirely through invocation and similar rites. While our earlier experiences with shapeshifting may seem to be out of our hands—literally—practice does make perfect, or at least better.

Shamanic costumery by Lupa, various; photo by Lawrence Brown, 2009

Drumbeats carry me into the journeying state; I can still vaguely feel my left arm pounding the beater against the horsehide drum held by my right. However, it is an arm covered in white fur. The fingers are shorter, stubbier, ending in claws, and growing less and less human as I watch. Were I to return to my physical form, I would find myself just as human as ever. But here, in the spirit world, my human form melts away—wolf-form is easier to travel in, easier to protect myself in. And there are beings who will only speak to me in this form, too. Humans can be scarier than wolves, you know.

Consciously shapeshifting into another being, especially with the aid of a representative of that sort of being, can be one of the most powerful acts of magic. The effects may be wide-ranging.

On an individual level, we may go places we couldn’t otherwise, in spirit and in emotion and in mind. We can break out of personal ruts, learn valuable lessons from the beings we become that we can then bring back to our human lives, and strengthen our imaginations and other creative spiritual skills.

We also stand to learn more about the world around us, to be more aware of the importance of other beings and places. It is harder to disregard someone that you have been yourself, even for a short while. Indeed, for many people what is most sacred is that in which we are most able to immerse or surrender ourselves.

Those sacred things that allow us to temporarily blur or remove our boundaries vary from person to person. I have limited my anecdotes to my experiences with Wolf and wolf spirits—partly due to tradition, and also to show that it’s possible to work with the same energy/being in different forms of shapeshifting. But it is quite possible to connect with a variety of animals, plants, stones, waterways, places, and yes, even buildings and statues and parks, through shapeshifting. This holds true whether it’s on an individual scale, or something as potentially elaborate as Joanna Macy’s and John Seed’s Council of All Beings.

In my next post, I’ll be offering more practical information on methods of shapeshifting, with a special emphasis on practicing it as a way of connecting with other beings.