For my current academic endeavor, one for which I temporarily set the Loki paper aside, I have been learning about spiritual crisis. After all, I experienced one, and it turned out badly.

Now for me, the main spiritual crisis of my awakening journey is over. I have went through the hero’s journey, in which I had to save a part of my stolen soul against a supernatural being. I have met entities that I took to be Norse gods and other famous faces. I have met smaller entities. I have met a lot of impostors. I have been confused, abused, isolated, pushed around, and I’ve had my energy eaten as if I were the buffet at a restaurant. I have been attacked by covens. I’ve taken possession of scorpion creations sent against me, stomped goblins, and raged against the universe.

But I’m no longer in that crisis. This is very important. I am no longer waking up finding myself in jars and bells and other traps put out by others who wished to stop me from growing because either they’re power hungry or just petty and jealous. I’m no longer confused by pretenders. My house is quiet now because I learned how to make space, to say no, to declare my sovereignty and put a stop to things—which was part of the reason for the crisis: learning how to stand in my own power.

The worst thing that I have learned is the most important. The West does not have the bit of lore that my father gave me: When you are a new shaman, and your powers are just awakening, you are a behbeh on the hill. You are vulnerable and alone. It’s as if the Spartans just put you out to die.

I’m going to reiterate redundantly. During and especially at the end of your actual crisis, you are extremely vulnerable. Extremely vulnerable. You are tasty. You are weak. You are that behbeh caribou at the back of the herd next to your ailing grandma. The predators are coming for one of you, and they would prefer you because you are tender meat.

What you do in this phase, traditionally from cultures around the globe, is get with an elder—preferably another established shaman—who will help you, guide you, protect you, teach you how to be what you are. They are your ear during the crisis. They are the tower under which you stand. They prevent you from getting harmed.

While I was going through my crisis, I turned to a lot of people for help. As has been outlined in previous blog posts, I was turned away repeatedly. I was called wackadoo. I was told to get professional help.

The covens that were after my crown of power did not succeed. I know this because the way they gained power—and they had boasted to me about this—was through killing their target. The leader claimed that God would give him the crown. I managed to get away from them.

The reason why the ending to my crisis story is tragic is because the crisis part had ended, but the hijacking part that my father had warned me about had begun. When I finally managed to fend off things and get help from someone who actually would listen, I came out of it with a condition called power loss.

The monsters that were chewing on me are no longer a problem because they were subdued, tamed, and chased off. In spirit, you can be injured and damaged just the same as you can in the physical world. My spirit had suffered an injury, and that injury was allowed to fester. I knew something was wrong. I was going from person to person, begging for help. No one would listen.

Finally, the power just completely faded. Oh, I can still feel things around me, but I can no longer see. For the kind of work that I do, that is a death sentence to my job. I had a shaman tell me to get used to just going blind and using a sense of smell—for a job that requires sight. I had a Reiki master tell me that we all do these things to ourselves. I have never had anyone take my injury seriously. It’s looking like nobody in the Western philosophies of shamanism knows.

It’s infuriating. I was just reading an account earlier today of when two shamans were out astrally hanging out; one got injured and the other immediately called his spirit helper and healed his friend. Healed him. But you won’t find that here.

Today, I once again reached out to two “shamans.” I use the term loosely. Many in the States claim they’re shamans, but the minute they are presented with something my ancestors would have understood, they balk and hide behind certain curtains.

I got a response from one, I’ll give her that. This was more than most have done. She did give me a reply on the same day. This is what she wrote:

Dear K.J.,

Thank you for reaching out and for sharing what sounds like a very intense and painful experience. I can hear how much distress you have been carrying and how frustrating it has been to feel dismissed or misunderstood while trying to find help. From what you describe, it sounds like you have been through a period of profound upheaval that has left you feeling disconnected, injured, and alone while trying to make sense of what happened. Experiences like this can be extremely overwhelming.

While my work does touch on spiritual development and integration, I’m not equipped to provide the kind of support that someone needs when they are moving through a crisis of this magnitude. Situations involving severe distress are best supported by trained professionals who can work with someone closely and consistently during a difficult period like this.

For that reason, I’m not able to offer the help you’re asking for directly. I do encourage you to continue seeking out qualified support from someone who can work with you in a sustained and structured way. You deserve real care and steady support as you navigate what you’ve been going through, and I hope you’re able to connect with someone who can provide that for you.

I wish you the best.

This person, a reverend with a PhD., calls themselves a “shamanic minister” and “award-winning author”. They claim to understand spiritual crisis, which is why I chose them despite how expensive they were. They gave me a polite, professional reply that clearly demonstrated they knew nothing about the unseen or what a spiritual crisis actually entails. They didn’t even point me to someone who might have answers.

I’m not writing this to shame her, even if this goes beyond any legal issue. In America at least, you’re not allowed to use certain words while offering your spiritual hand to the world. Spiritual crisis is still regarded by the West as a mental health condition. Most people don’t understand the spirits, and lords help you if you end up in a place of psychological power run by atheists. But I admit I am this close to making a wall of shame highlighting every so-called shaman and “shamanic practitioner” who ignored me, turned me down, and proved themselves to be loyal clerks in the Temple of Psychiatric Shackles. I’m writing this because something has to be said about this. It’s no longer enough that I am writing an academic paper on how to tell a crisis from a hijacking. These people give cookie-cutter, professional, “go get help from a psychiatrist” replies, and they’re charging anywhere from $150 to $400 to even $800 an hour. This woman has options on her website to spend upwards of $1,600 for a week-long coaching course over something that sounds incredibly foo-foo. I have to say it again: she claims to help with spiritual crisis!

I realize that the Harner-style of shamanism purposefully gutted the dark part. I know the darkness is unpalatable to many. But those dark things are real. They are confirmed by many others describing experiences that might as well be coming off this blog and from my lips. Like one blog I was reading the other day—they were talking about being attacked by a shaman, and lo and behold, they mentioned centipede infestations. Funny that. I was dealing with centipedes.

When you approach one of these many “shamanic” people, you really need to check what they are offering. With the exception of a few, I have seen a lot of love and light, angels, “all is good.” They offer snake oil services, and every last one of them that I have approached so far has gone, “Oh God. You were attacked by monsters. Oh, dear. Yeah. You need, like, a psychiatrist.”

Meanwhile, there’s this man called Dr. Gallagher who started as a psychiatrist and ended up working with Jesuit priests chasing out demons because he realized that there is schizophrenia, and then there’s possession. I have yet to get in touch with him. I really want to get in touch with him.

If you feel the need to find a “shamanic” practitioner, pay attention. It’s clear that even if they are trying to do good, their knowledge is incomplete. More often than not they are not willing to improve, get stronger, and fit the big, big sets of moccasins that they are trying to fill.

So where does that leave those of us who have been through trial by fire? We are left holding the fragmented lore our fathers gave us, navigating a landscape of well-meaning but ill-equipped practitioners. We must be our own elders, tribes of one, when we should be seeking connection and a way to re-establish the network in a society that is not as tribal as some would like to think. The moccasins are empty. And for now, we are the only ones left who remember how to walk in them.

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