NECROMANCY: INSIGHTS FROM SHAMANIC JOURNEYING

 The Shaman of Bad Durrenburg was buried about 9000 years ago in what is now Germany. She was in her mid twenties and an infant was buried with her. She was dressed in her shamanic garb, wearing an elaborate head-dress comprising parts of many animals, and packed in red ochre which indicated her high status. She was well nourished, but probably died of a severe dental infection.

This was not the most remarkable thing about her. A malformation of her cervical vertebrae meant that she would have experienced unusual physical sensations and maybe hallucinations. Some experts have considered that by turning her head in a particular way, she could have induced a trance state. 

I was fascinated by her. I try to look back to my own ancestry rather than take from other cultures, and I feel I am finding a rich history. I was also intrigued by her method of entering trance, if this was true. Because all this discovery does is find the method; it by no means invalidates her power or her experience. 

So I thought I would try a bit of necromancy, sort of. I made a ritual and asked for help from my helping spirits, including a deep ancestor of mine. I found as many things as I could to be her/my grave goods. When I laid it all out it looked a bit pitiful, but it seemed to work. Then I made a kind of grave out of my bed and 'buried' myself in the same sitting position in which she was found. 

Here is a picture of some of it:

In the jar is Jagermeister (yeah I know I am all class, but it reminds me of European forests) and red river ochre. The knife is old, my original ritual knife, sharpened with a Japanese whetstone; you could shave with it. 

There is a wonderful Muslim meditation where you think of a silence and darkness so complete it is as if you are dead, and your funeral has finished, and everyone has gone home. So I blew out the candle and sank into that. And here we are:

GRAVE GOODS – FOR THE SHAMAN OF BAD DURRENBERG

 

These are your grave goods:

A needle, naked,

And thread to clothe it with.

A knife for ritual –

Or for slaughter.

Bones of deer, sheep, tahr, turtle and whale, for company.

The God rune, so you know who you’re speaking to.

Red ochre, so the Gods know they’re speaking to you.

Waters of moon and forest, grains ergot-tainted

And abalone for beauty.

 

You don’t have to tell me your name.

Oh you told me –

And here is your baby boy, and his name too.

So now we are friends, what was it like?

 

You were the weapon of your people

And the tool of the spirits.

They would stand you up on the front line,

Hunched and twitching as the power crazed your skin,

And your eyes rolling back.

You would bring the spirits down and the enemy would flee.

By the end of it all, no enemies came.

 

No wonder you drank.

 

But afterwards the spirits came unbidden.

They showed you lights, and more lights, and a great house of lights in the sky.

They comforted you.

 

Now you show me the great house in the sky.

You tell me, joyful now, this is not any reward of yours,

But the need of your soul.

We don’t get rewarded,

We get our soul’s need.