Mercenarys Moon Waxing Gibbous inGemini

Image:
Johns Vision of the Son of Man(from the Bamberg Apocalypse )
Influence:
The Waxing Gibbous Moon in Gemini. Duration: Tomorrow afternoon (1/11) through Monday evening (1/13) when the Moon enters Cancer. Times courtesy of Cafe
Astrology.
Advice:
Speak the Truth. Your allegiance is to facts, not to feelings.
Slice and hone. Strip down the extras and get to whats important in any matter.
Be articulate. Make sure to say what is meant, do not leave ambiguity.
Discussion:
Gibbous moons are the opposite of crescents, representing that time when the moon is nearly full. The Waxing Gibbous is not represented by any major astrological
aspect; the moon and sun are further apart than a trine but have not yet reached opposition (the full moon). Thus, the idea behind the waxing gibbous moon becomes a
bit more of an intellectual exercise than an astrological investigation. It represents nearness to completion, and when interpreted alongside a sign it represents that
stage of development where all of the signs qualities are nearly developed. The waxing gibbous does not contain the challenge or conflict of its neighboring tense
aspects (the first quarter and full moon), but still represents a state of transition. It is the beginning of the resolution of the problems posed by the quarter moon, and a
promise of what their resolution can bring.
Tomorrow, the moon enters its waxing gibbous phase while in the constellation of Gemini. Gemini is the first air sign, bringing a devotion to intelligence, the mind,
and discussion that is only further honed by having Mercury as its ruler. At their best, Geminis are debaters and truth-tellers, even if sometimes they get more caught
up in the telling than the truth of the matter. The Mercenarys Moon represents a time when the Truth weighs heavily on a not-completely-mature Gemini. Having
just experienced conflict and the power they can exert through lies, Gemini now switches into a mode of truth-telling that often ignores how the listener may be feeling
or responding.
The Mercenarys Moon is the teenager that is convinced that they are right, willing to do away with friendships and family relationships to get their point across. It
reminds me of this description of Jesus, In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. (Rev. 1:16) Nikos
KazantzakisThe Last Temptation of Christ (an absolutely phenomenal book that everyone should read) portrays this aspect of Christ absolutely beautifully, and in a
way that highlights the qualities of the Mercenarys Moon quite well. It is a slow hardening of his personality, past the Piscean depth and emotionality and call to love
your neighbors, to the sharp and cutting, Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword. (Matt. 10:17)
Gemini eventually comes to learn the power of myth and of telling the truth delicately, but the Mercenarys Moon is a time for you to be clear, cutting, and
decisiveThe Power of Storytelling
The Power of Storytelling
I told her the story of Persephone, the teenage goddess, who one day was in a beautiful meadow picking narcissus flowers with her mother, Demeter,
and the next day found herself in the deep, dark underworld. The earth had suddenly parted on that spring day and she had been swooped up by
Hades in his thundering chariot and taken away from her mother to be his queen. I told her how Demeter panicked when Persephone was missing and
appealed to Zeus, the king of the gods, for help. When he was unwilling to provide her with assistance, she became distraught over the loss of her
daughter (with whom she had been extremely close) that she became depressed and withdrawn. Since Demeter was the chief mother goddess and in
charge of the harvest and all growing things, this meant no more food. As famine spread across the land and people were left starving, Zeus relented
and agreed to help rescue Persephone from the underworld. She could come back as long as she hadn't eaten anything there.
And so, when Persephone and Demeter were reunited, the first question Demeter asked her daughter was, "What did you eat?" Persephone admitted
Hades had fed her pomegranate and that she had eaten three seeds. This meant that Persephone could no longer spend all of her days with Demeter
and had to return to the underworld for three months a year in the wintertime, when she would reign as queen. She would return every spring, not
simply as an innocent maiden, her mother's daughter, but also as a wise one who could visit the underworld and return with ease, able to help others
who needed safe passage to and from its darkness.
When Melissa, my 15-year-old client who had struggled initially with compulsive eating, then anorexia, and now bulimia, first heard this story she told
me how she could relate to once having had a very close relationship with her mother. Now she felt estranged from her and it seemed as though all her
mother was interested in was what she was doing with food and not the big, important things in her life. She felt she couldn't talk with her mom about
her darker thoughts and feelings because her mom either wouldn't understand or would "fall apart" and things would "get worse."
Throughout the course of treatment, we revisited this story over and over again, and each time, Melissa could find more personal meaning in this
ancient myth - how her father, like Zeus, didn't want to get involved in her recovery at first, but later did, as he recognized the seriousness of her eating
disorder; how she experienced strong feelings and urges that seemed to come out of nowhere and plunge her into dark moods that held her hostage;
how she sometimes felt guilty for eating the smallest amount of food and it seemed like her relationship with food was ruining her life and upsetting her
mother; how frightened she was of her sexual feelings and yet found herself attracted to the "bad boys" who, like Hades, treated her like a queen but
could also get her into big trouble. Eventually, toward the end of treatment she was able to identify with the goddess who was no longer just an
innocent child but one who, as a result of having undertaken a most difficult journey, now had some skills and understanding that could help her
navigate more confidently and safely through life. She stopped seeing herself as simply a victim of forces beyond her control, and instead began to feel
like a strong young woman willing (and able) to plumb the depths of even her darkest emotions.
Myths are stories that have stayed alive in human imagination for thousands of years because there is a ring of truth in them about shared human
experience. To some extent, all of us who have been adolescent girls can identify with some aspect of Persephone's story: growing up and separating
from our mothers; journeying into the unknown; being overwhelmed by dark emotions; feeling overtaken by unconscious forces that seem to come
unexpectedly out of nowhere; having strong sexual impulses that can sweep us off our feet; or experiencing trauma or some sense of innocence lost.
For those who struggle with eating disorders, the pivotal role that food plays in this story can be especially compelling and poignant.
The healing power of story lies in its ability to arouse strong emotions by allowing the listener to identify with its characters. It can serve as a means of
externalizing inner conflicts and providing us with metaphors for internal and interpersonal dynamics. Younger adolescents who have difficulty talking
directly about their own traumas find storytelling allows them a vehicle to express their feelings about trauma through the characters' experiences.
Older adolescents may have difficulty pinpointing their feelings but can easily imagine the feelings of the protagonist in a story. In therapy, the

discussion of Demeter's question to Persephone upon being reunited ("What did you eat?") can help a client discover what underlies her own reactions
to that question and issues around her own eating behavior. It becomes obvious that what appears to be a simple question is actually fraught with
tremendous meaning. And through this exploration, a client can begin to understand the symbolic meaning of her relationship to food and eating. She
can begin to see connections between her eating behavior and her relationships with others.
According to Rudolf Steiner, founder of the Waldorf schools, the intellectual powers of rational thought, judgment, and critical thinking that awaken upon
the onset of adolescence need to be rooted in the ground of feeling and imagination in order for them to develop properly. Without imagery, which he
referred to as "living pictures" seen in the "eye of the mind," intellectual concepts cannot be fully grasped. When we work with adolescents who have
distorted body images, irrational beliefs about food, or an inability to grasp the abstract, symbolic nature of their eating behavior, storytelling can be an
exquisite means of cultivating an ability to imagine and feel the inner truth of their disordered eating. Once the truth is glimpsed by the mind's eye, and
felt in the body, it can then be easily brought into the full light of consciousness.
Marion Woodman, Jungian analyst and author on the feminine, addictions, and eating disorders, believes that storytelling and the use of metaphor
have more of an immediate impact than abstract analysis when working with eating disorders. "So long as it's theory, it's removed from the actual
feeling...if I put it in a story form or use images, the mind may not hear it, but the body responds. And if it's reverberating in the body, sooner or later it's
going to get through to consciousness." (4) According to her, the healing power of metaphor lies in its ability to provide us with images that can
transform unconscious material into conscious awareness.
Through storytelling, teens struggling with disordered eating can learn the language of metaphor, which can help them intuit the existence of deeper
meanings and truths. As they become more and more proficient with this language, they can understand how food can be a symbol for emotional
nourishment, and how eating can be an attempt to respond to inner hungers for attention, acceptance, affection, or appreciation. They learn to interpret
"fat attacks" as "fear attacks" and understand how fat can represent their fears of rejection, intrusion, uncontrolled sexuality, or saying "no." They can
recognize that discussions about food, fat and body parts among their friends are actually coded attempts to deal with a myriad of feelings they don't
quite know what to do with or how to talk about. They can understand that when others make derogatory remarks about the female body, these
comments are simply expressions of insecurities and not statements of fact that should be taken to heart. They can learn to perceive the underlying
meanings and motivations behind the images and messages delivered to them through the media via magazines, TV, movies, the internet, and music,
and in doing so, can begin to develop a resiliency to the onslaught of restrictive, demeaning and oppressive images that bombard them on a daily
basis.
And, as a result of telling and retelling the stories of their own personal journeys to hell and back, they can embody the energy of Persephone. They
can be light-hearted, adventuresome maidens with hopes and desires who, having explored the deep underworld of the unconscious, carry within them
wisdom beyond their years. They can learn to discern the deeper messages behind their eating behavior, and embrace the wisdom of their bodies,
feelings and intuitions. By doing this, they become better equipped to naMyths reveal the meaning of deep structures in the human mind. In this extract from
his book Culture, Crisis and Creativity, Dane Rudhyar explores how we can find a more meaningful place for ourselves in the cosmos using astrology:
As I have conceived and presented it astrology should be considered a powerful myth, perhaps one of the most powerful New Age myths. Indeed the very concept of
a New Age, the Aquarian Age, has an astrological basis. It is a myth because it is, at least potentially, a consistent, well-organized and all-inclusive answer to personal
human needs, collective as well as individual. These needs today must be met. A sense of organic wholeness and significant relatedness must be re-established in
minds deprived of the support of now repudiated classical frames of reference and deeply confused by a multitude of possible alternatives, while these minds search
for transcendence and hope for rebirth in a new social and cultural world that would be attuned to the superpersonal rhythms of the cosmos.
The keyword here is attuned. The most dynamic and restless members of todays youth, and many of their elders, poignantly feel out of tune. Their entire society
appears to them a discordant magma of wrong notes. By shrieking their out-of-tuneness louder than anyone else, they dare an essentially inert middle class, drugged by
the gloss of suburban comfort and slick materialism, to face the horrendous possibility that their agitated and empty living is actually a magnified medieval dance of
death. In the past, the mythical violinist-leader of the dance was a skeleton; now, as more and more people begin to believe, it is the Pentagon and CIA, and their
counterparts in other nations, that play the nuclear tune, while big business beats the drum.
This apocalyptic vision seems increasingly to take on the massive character of reality. The jungles of the biosphere, where small tribes of men once eked out a difficult
death-haunted existence, have become equally dangerous megalopolis of cement and asphalt scarring the once beautiful earth. Death or rape may still wait at the
corner; neurosis is as endemic as malaria in tropical swamps. Primitive man looked to the starry sky and studied the movements of the Moon and the Sun because
there, in the Above, they could see the magic of order at work. The sky was indeed magical, a revelation of transcendent divine harmony to which man and his
society could attune their cultural endeavors as well as their agriculture, because man essentially belonged to that Above. Was it not his task and responsibility to make
of the earthly Below a reflected image of the celestial Order? So indeed thought the old Chinese philosophers and emperors, and the Hindu seers, raising their
consciousness to a point not only of response but of identification with the Above.
Astrology then was the supreme Myth of Order and Being. Primitive men needed that celestial answer to their earth-bound insecurity, their fears of the unknown, their
yearning to commune with whatever they visualized as anticipations of a future godlike state of humanness. We need just as poignantly today an answer to our modern
insecurity, our fears of personal disintegration under the pressures of city-life, of business passion for power, and of the menace of nuclear war or ecological disaster.
Where can we find such an answer? Only a new myth can provide it for us, a myth relating our seemingly incoherent and tragically out-of-tune social and
psychological movements to an all-encompassing and universally acceptable frame of reference whose vastness can absorb conflicts and redeem them into harmony.
How could such a redemption be possible? It can be possible only if the collective consciousness of Western people realizes the crucial need for a change of frame
of reference. As Count Keyserling (the great German philosopher and culture-interpreter) once said: No basic conflict can be solved; it can only be transcended. By
reaching a position in consciousness above the opposites, we may realize that both polarities are valid; both have something essential to contribute; both are essential
participants in the counterpoint of life, not to be rejected but to be understood and, through understanding, harmonized.
The myth of the sky should give form to the as yet mostly inchoate and insecure feelings that, essentially, harmony prevails in the universe, once that universe is
perceived and understood in its totality. We are blind to it because our perceptions are only partial and biased by emotional reactions, and particularly by our fears. Yet
everything is related to everything else in a polyphony of interdependent and interpenetrating activities. If we lose this sense of relatedness which is also love
everything falls apart within us, and our world collapses into meaninglessness. We must regain that sense of relatedness. We may achieve this through astrology, but it
is not the only way.
Astrology can be, and has been at least tentatively, reformulated as a myth that could inspire and, here and there, has already inspired distraught human individuals to
see within the magic mirror of their birth-charts the revelation of their truth-of-being, their dharma. If truly understood as a power of transpersonal revelation of order
within a mandala of archetypal selfhood and destiny it is not a religion. It does not bind back to an external source to be worshipped. Yet it can reveal the
outline of the process of growth gradually evolving on the foundation of the persistent and never-silent AUM-tone of individual selfhood, sustaining all that we are and
can potentially become. It is guidance, not subjection; companionship with our greater celestial Self, not worship of an absolute Other, called God.

In my recent book The Sun is also a Star (Dutton and Co., N. Y. 1975) I spoke of the Galactic Dimension of Astrology. We are in the Galaxy. We have not to go
elsewhere to reach our galactic form or fulfill our galactic destiny. Galactic space pervades and illumines every cell of our body, every circuit of our thinking brain. If
we are willing and ready to abandon our subjection to the dictates of an autocratic Sun, ruling over our personalities with the compulsive power of biological drives
and psychic emotions; if we are willing to surrender our dependence upon the ego-Sun and see ourselves as one small star in the immense choir of galactic centers of
radiant light, then our voice may rise above the apparent discords of interplanetary relationships, symbols of our social and personal limitations. Our life may then
become a mythopoetic expression of trust in the harmony of the universe and of that out of which universes are born, then die and are reborn. In this realization our
problems may fade into peace. We may learn who we are, where we stand, and how best we can fulfill our role in the cosmos.
This is evidently not what, for most people, astrology means today, or has meant in Western cultures since Athens, Alexandria, Rome, and classical Europe. But it is
what it can mean to individuals who take seriously and intelligently attempt to formulate by their actions the real, yet so rarely understood significance and
purpose of our recently emerging counterculture.
>from Culture, Crisis and Creativity by Dane Rudhyar (1977), courtesy of Mind Fire. Read the whole book here
he fragmented psyche does not automatically require or seek mending; or at least there may be a kairos space of time during which it may need,
indeed can thrive upon fragmentation. In certain crisis situations the psyche, instead of putting all its eggs in one basket, to play safe and
ultimately protect its integrity, may choose to invest fragments of libido into splinter personalities for safe-keeping until the crisis has abated. In
therapy situations I have seen this anticipated in dreams, then worked out in situations where a person was facing imminent, possibly lifethreatening danger and in an attempt to cushion the impending blow, split into several ego stances. I have called this phenomenon "pre-traumatic
dissociation" as an anticipatory move which, unlike the more severe and overridingly pathological Multiple Personality Disorder, does not interfere
significantly with the individual's ability to function normally in day-to-day reality.
As a second parameter in the assessment of the overriding effect of pathology, placing woundedness in its mythic context, it's worth bearing in
mind, for instance, that Osiris and Dionysus were dismembered, that Psyche had to journey to the Underworld, that Prometheus had his liver
repeatedly torn out by Zeus's eagle, and that Medusa was beheaded. As well, in terms of the psyche's ultimate goal of attaining wholeness,
centredness and integration, fragmentation is a blow to the hubris of the stable ego, which must relinquish its sense of a fixed identity and must
eventually step aside in order to allow the paradoxical Self to displace it as the centre of consciousness.

Shamanism & Schizophrenia

What we call schizophrenic is, as Joseph Campbell has discussed, called (positively) visionary or mystical in shamanic cultures, hence is valued, not
feared or sedated with chemicals. As he clarifies in the well-known [1988] TV series, "The Power of Myth", 'The shaman is the person, male or
female, who ... has an overwhelming psychological experience that turns him totally inward. It's a kind of schizophrenic crack-up. The whole
unconscious opens up, and the shaman falls into it. This shaman experience has been described many, many times. It occurs all the way from
Siberia right through the Americas down to Tierra del Fuego.'
Hence working with sufferers of schizophrenia from a shamanic angle can be helpful, since the shaman has in all likelihood experienced similar
experiences to those of the schizophrenic. Mainstream reductionist psychiatrists, on the other hand, by and large presume that if an experience
(such as chronic depression) is unpleasant, it must be stopped or band-aided, but because an experience is painful or difficult, it doesn't necessarily
follow that's it's not valuable, or therapeutically worthwhile as a 'wound which heals'.
As Mircea Eliade has recounted in detail, shamanic initiation is often unpleasant, even at times horrific, and can involve being mythically stripped
to the skeleton, dismemberment, or being taken to pieces. If the schizophrenic can work through these kinds of processes with an empathetic
therapist, s/he may be able to find healing and some ego stability at the other end of the ordeal. I know of other schizophrenics who have
courageously gone off of medication and helped each other through such processes, or (more rarely) who have worked through them alone.

Schizophrenia: The Shaman Sickness

The path is always lonely and demanding for those called to shamanism, and doubly so for those who must contend with Western culture's refusal to
accept the overwhelming reality of the disturbing realms of vision and torment in which these potential shamans dwell. Along with having to endure
the loss of ego stability, hence the frightening blurring of outer and inner realites, sufferers of schizophrenia are often forced to contend with
psychiatric notions, ruled by the Apollonian myth of reason, monotheism and normality, which demand that such "deviant" Dionysian states be
subdued with medication, or punished with incarceration in mental institutions.
The schizophrenic's reason and senses, like those of the shaman during initiation, are assaulted by concrete revelations of the heights and depths of
the vast Otherworlds of the collective unconscious. Simultaneously, the schizophrenic is forced to slot into the sometimes petty humdrum and
routine of daily existence. The invasion of the ego by archetypal forces transforms the individual profoundly and irreversibly; no-one who has
endured such a crisis can confine the expanded horizons of their consciousness to the tame boundaries of cultural norms. Yet instead of encouraging
and bolstering the development of such transcendental levels of awareness, mainstream psychiatry seeks - out of fear of the unknown, the
unconscious, the numinous, the irrational and the abnormal - to stifle it under the euphemistic and patronising guise of 'treatment'.
The schizophrenic, being intensely introverted is automatically poorly adapted in a society which narrowly defines personal identity in terms of
appearance, behaviour and social status. S/he lives in a discontinuous reality which can become a terrifying bombardment of overlapping realities,
voices and chaotic perceptions. Everything takes on mythical overtones. The players in the archetypal dramas are often gods who are potentially
both benevolent and destructive. Mainstream psychiatry deals with this overload by numbing the mind and trying to force the individual to readjust
to cultural norms. At the same time, the "patient" is robbed of a unique mode of learning that many schizophrenics sense to be immensely valuable
and worth pursuing. And unfortunately the law is in the psychiatrists' hands to take away what others treasure as an experience of the awesome
power of the sacred.

Self Retrieval vs Soul Retrieval

Jung once remarked that his work would be continued "by those who suffer", and he was undoubtedly including in that phrase all who have the
courage to confront - with the peculiar aloneness and risk that's unavoidable in such work - their inner depths, soul pathology, and shadows. From

the perspective of effective therapy (bearing in mind that 'therapy' means 'serving the gods'), the bottom line is that sufferers of schizophrenia as
individuals have the right to choose what sort of treatment they wish to accept, but at present they're not being presented by mainstream
psychiatry with the option of working through their experiences as an alternative to fearfully band-aiding the symptoms. Coming to terms with the
illness takes a lot of guts - on the part of both patient and therapist - but the option exists and sufferers of schizophrenia are surely entitled to be
informed that it does.
Paraphrasing Hamlet, then, to intervene, or not to intervene, that is the quesion. During solitary Self retrieval, for instance, when a person may be
recovering from grief, or from an ended relationship, or from plain old unrequited love, the energy is gradually reclaimed, in the same way as a
snail's stalks, or the leaves of some touch-sensitive plants tentatively re-emerge or unfold after they've been touched. Similarly, the soul's energy
doesn't need to be yanked back, or forcefully torn away from its attachment. It needs gentleness and slow movement, not sudden jolting or other
forms of hasty retrieval.
Through my own experiences of grief, loss and wounding, and though being privileged to share the painful experiences of others, I have learned that
the soul lets go when in the kairos of its own time-frame it is ready to. It undergoes a gradual transition from acknowledging the soul-bond, to
relinquishing dependency and belongingness, to acknowledging the reality of separation. The soul like a child must in such times be weaned off,
because its vulnerability and woundedness so often belong to the Puer, the eternal child archetype of trust and openness that has more often than
not drawn it into the situation in the first place. The hopeful and idealistic Puer, earthed and sometimes shocked through the harsh facts of human
relatedness into the realm of Soul, thereby becomes, if it accepts its lot with growth in understanding and no bitterness, the willing victim of
sometimes painful reality. In some circumstances, then, interventional soul retrieval, perhaps out of a desire for a quicker remedy, or even out of a
well-meaning shamanic longing to help the suffering soul escape its pain, could become a hasty substitute for a more gradual, natural process of
Self retrieval. For it is through bathing in the gentle alchemical fire in which the agony of passion is gradually transmuted to the gold of 'compassion', that the Wounded Healer is most thoroughly forged.
The phenomenology of shamanism has been the focus of much contemporary psychological interest. However, it is arguable that the concept of
"shamanic states of consciousness" is neither well defined nor sufficiently understood. We critically examine the term "shamanic states of
consciousness" and argue that affixing the qualifier "shamanic states" to consciousness results in a theoretical confusion of consciousness and its
content, that is, consciousness is mistaken for the content of consciousness. We refer to this fallacy as the "consciousness/content fallacy." We argue
that this fallacy is avoided if one replaces "shamanic states of consciousness" with "shamanic patterns of phenomenal properties," an extrapolation of
the term "phenomenal field." Implications of the consciousness/content fallacy for "states of consciousness" studies are also considered.
**********
Shamanism may be defined as "a body of techniques and activities that supposedly enable its practitioners to access information that is not ordinarily
attainable by members of the social group that gave them privileged status" (Krippner, 2002, p. 962). The shaman performs a social-role function by
using this information to serve the community (Walsh, 1989a). Many scholars (e.g., Eliade, 1964; Heinze, 1991; Ripinsky-Naxon, 1993) concur that
altered states of consciousness (ASCs) are an integral part of shamanism, "particularly those ASCs involving ecstatic journeying, (i.e., soul flight or outof-body experience)" (Krippner, p. 966). Harner (1990) refers to ASCs experienced by these practitioners as shamanic states of consciousness.
Some years ago, Peters (1989) remarked that the study of shamanism and "the Shamanistic State of Consciousness ... is the focus of much current
psychological interest" (p. 115). (i) Peters' contention has been evidenced by the emergence of numerous experimental (e.g., Bittman, et al., 2001;
Harner & Tryon, 1992, 1995; Kremer & Krippner, 1994; Woodside, Kumar, & Pekala, 1997), non-experimental (e.g., Houran, Lange, & Crist-Houran,
1997), methodological (Rock & Baynes, 2005; Walsh, 1993a, 1993b, 1995), and theoretical (e.g., Krippner, 2000, 2002; Walsh, 1989a, 1989b, 1989c,
1990a, 1990b, 1994) studies broadly situated within the domain of psychology. Indeed, shamanism is generating increasing interest as a
complementary therapeutic strategy in the traditional medical and psychological arenas (e.g., Bittman et al., 2001). For example, Harner and Tryon
(1992) conducted a study of 40 experienced shamanic practitioners and found that depression, tension-anxiety, anger, confusion, fatigue and total
mood disturbance were statistically significantly lower after journeying with drumming compared to baseline. Consequently, the principles of shamanic
practice may prove relevant to clinical psychologists (Krippner, 2002).
As previously stated, shamanism is associated with what have traditionally been referred to as ASCs (Winkelman, 1997). That is, such shamanic
techniques as listening to monotonous drumming, perceptual deprivation, and ritualistic dancing are considered to facilitate purported shifts in
consciousness. Thus, shamanism may be of interest to cognitive psychologists concerned with the nature of human consciousness (Krippner, 2002).
Over the past few decades, several psychologists (e.g., Noll, 1983, 1985; Peters, 1981, 1989; Peters & Price-Williams, 1980; Walsh, 1993b, 1995)
have postulated various phenomenological (i.e., subjective) elements of "shamanic states of consciousness" (e.g., altered volitional control, altered
body image) in an attempt to operationalize the term. However, it is arguable that the concept of "shamanic states of consciousness" is neither well
defined nor sufficiently understood (Rock & Krippner, in press). Indeed, we will demonstrate that a fallacy herein referred to as the "consciousness/
content fallacy" occurs when one moves from the key definitional elements of the term "consciousness" to "shamanic states of consciousness" and
recommend that the latter term be supplanted with "shamanic patterns of phenomenal properties."
The purpose of this paper is to elucidate the aforementioned fallacy and provide an attempt at resolution. We proceed by reviewing numerous
definitions of consciousness and argue that they all exemplify a commonality with regards to the implicit distinction between consciousness and the
content of consciousness. Secondly, the consciousness/content fallacy is explicated through an analysis of the concept of "states of consciousness."
Finally, the consciousness/content fallacy is examined with reference to the concept of shamanic states of consciousness and, subsequently, a solution
to the fallacy is proposed.
It is noteworthy that there exist instances in which the key definitional elements of the term "consciousness" range from conscious awareness plus
unconscious functioning (Krippner, 1972), simply to awareness, attention and memory (Farthing, 1992). The present paper, however, is concerned with
the concept of consciousness as the "cognizor" of objects (e.g., internal and external events) and the fallacy that occurs when a shift from the term
"consciousness" to "states of consciousness" is accompanied by a confusion of consciousness with the content of consciousness. Consequently, for
the purpose of the present paper, only the conscious awareness component of the concept of consciousness will be considered.
Consciousness and Phenomenological Content

Forman (1996) states that the inherent difficulty associated with providing an adequate definition of consciousness is due in part to the multiplicity of
meanings ascribed to the term. Block (2002) suggests that this multiplicity of meanings derives from the erroneous treatment of very different concepts
as a single concept. For example, in an influential series of articles Block (e.g., 1995, 2002) distinguishes a number of notions of consciousness:
phenomenal, access, self, and monitoring consciousness.

Block (2002) states that phenomenal consciousness (p-consciousness) refers to one being aware of "experiential properties of sensations, feelings and
perceptions ... thoughts, wants and emotions" (p. 206). In contrast, access-consciousness (a-consciousness) is a non-phenomenal notion of
consciousness. An entity exemplifying a-consciousness is one who is aware of information "poised for direct rational control of action" (Silby, 1998, p.
3). Block suggests that self-consciousness (s-consciousness) is illustrated by "me-ishness." An s-conscious entity is one that is aware of the concept of
the self and that one's usage of this concept (explicitly or implicitly) in thinking about oneself also reveals s-consciousness. Consciousness may also be
conceptualized as an internal monitor; that is, monitoring consciousness (m-consciousness). Block suggests that an entity may be m-conscious of inner
perceptions, internal scanning, and meta-cognitive thoughts resulting in entering a particular cognitive state.
A commonality exemplified by the preceding notions of consciousness is that, "When people are conscious, they are always conscious of something.
Consciousness always has an object" (Benjafield, 1992, p. 58). (ii) For example, one may be p-conscious of phenomenal properties; a-conscious of
information that may be invoked to control actions; s-conscious of one's self-concept; or m-conscious of, for example, internal scanning. Benjafield's
contention is by no means novel. Indeed, over a century ago Husserl (cited in Sartre, 1958, p. li) argued that, "All consciousness ... is consciousness of
something." Similarly, Sartre asserts that consciousness always attends to a "transcendent object" and is thereby precluded from being
phenomenologically contentless. Sartre refers to this type of consciousness as "positional self-consciousness." Sartre states that:
A survey of the cognitive psychology literature further supports Benjafield's (1992) contention. In brief, cognitive psychologists (e.g., Matlin, 1998;
Nairne, 1997; Solso, 2001) tend to define consciousness as the awareness of internal and external events (e.g., mental phenomena and stimuli in the
environment, respectively). In contrast, others (e.g., Westen, 1999, p. G-4) limit the definitional boundary of consciousness to "the subjective
awareness of mental events." It is arguable that these assertions constitute the core of consciousness concepts in cognitive psychology today.
Commenting on the definition of consciousness as being aware of something, Natsoulas (1978) writes: "It is difficult to emphasize sufficiently the
fundamental importance of consciousness in the present sense. It is arguably our most basic concept of consciousness, for it is implicated in all the
other senses" (p. 910).
The salient point exemplified by the preceding descriptions of consciousness is the distinction between consciousness and the content of
consciousness. For example, Block's (2002) phenomenal consciousness is not composed of experiential properties such as sensations and
perceptions (contents of p-consciousness), but rather refers to one being p-conscious of experiential properties such as sensations and perceptions.
The Consciousness/Content Fallacy
As stated above, consciousness is often defined as awareness of internal and external events (e.g., Matlin, 1998; Nairne, 1997; Solso, 2001) or merely
awareness of something (e.g., Natsoulas, 1978). In contrast, a so-called "state" of consciousness (SoC) tends to be defined as "[the set] of mental
episodes of which one can readily become directly aware" (Natsoulas, p. 912). While definitions of consciousness typically distinguish consciousness
from the content of consciousness, the preceding definition of SoCs represents a theoretical confusion of consciousness and its contents by explicitly
stating that a SoC is the content (i.e., mental episodes) available to conscious awareness. That is, when the qualifier "state" is affixed to
consciousness, "it" [consciousness] is held to be content. Consequently, the term states of consciousness rests on a confusion of consciousness and
content whereby consciousness is erroneously categorized in terms of content rendered perceptible, presumably, by "itself." We refer to this as the
consciousness/content fallacy.
Implicit in the consciousness/content fallacy is the erroneous notion that during a SoC consciousness may observe "its" own qualities. For example, a
privileged observer would only be conscious of the fact that he or she was experiencing a particular SoC (i.e., that consciousness exemplified state-like
properties), if consciousness could observe its own properties. However, one cannot directly experience the conscious awareness process, [CA.sub.1],
which functions to render an object perceptible because this would require the postulation of a second conscious awareness process, [CA.sub.2],
necessary to render [CA.sub.1] a perceptible object, thus, committing one to a vicious regress.
Furthermore, others (e.g., Feinberg, 2001; Kant, 1781/1933; Vasu, 1979) have argued that consciousness cannot directly experience "itself" as a
perceptible object, for then it would cease to be the subject. (iii) Wilber (1993) states that the circumstance is analogous to a sword that cannot cut
itself, an eye that cannot see itself, a tongue that cannot taste itself, or a finger that cannot touch its own tip. This argument has been reiterated in
Baladeva's commentary to the Vedanta-sutras of Badarayana in which he wrote, "If the Self could perceive His own properties, He could also perceive
Himself; which is absurd, since one and the same thing cannot be both the agent and the object of an action" (Vasu, p. 331). Similarly, in the
Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad it is stated that, "You cannot see the seer of sight, you cannot hear the hearer of sound, you cannot think the thinker of the
thought, you cannot know the knower of the known" (Swami & Yeats, 1970, p. 138). As Kant argues:
A variant of the consciousness/content fallacy may be found in Pekala's (1991) statement that, "By consciousness I mean one's awareness of one's
subjective experience, including both the processes of being aware and the various contents of the awareness" (p. 1). That is, Pekala is contending that
consciousness is both "one's awareness of one's subjective experience" and "the various contents of the awareness" (p. 1). Consequently, rather than
committing the consciousness/content fallacy via a movement from a definition of consciousness to a definition of SoCs, Pekala has implicitly conflated
consciousness and content within the context of a single definition.
From Shamanic States of Consciousness to Shamanic Patterns of Phenomenal Properties
A survey of the literature suggests that the key definitional elements of shamanic states of consciousness (SSCs) pertain to the objects or content of
consciousness, rather than alterations in consciousness. For example, Peters and Price-Williams (1980) attempted to delineate transcultural factors
indicative of shamanic ecstasy by examining the ethnographic literature pertaining to 42 different cultures. It was concluded that so-called shamanic
ecstasy is a specific kind of ASC involving "mastery" or control with respect to both the entrance and duration of the ASC, "posttrance memory," and

the ability to communicate with spectators during the ASC.

In challenging Silverman's (1969) contention that shamanism is a form of schizophrenia, Noll (1983, p. 443) utilized a "state-specific approach to the
phenomenology" of SSCs and various schizophrenic states in order to demonstrate that they are qualitatively incompatible. A variety of important
distinctions were identified. First, the shaman enters and leaves SSCs by his or her own volition, whereas the schizophrenic is the "helpless victim of
his" (Noll, p. 450). Second, the shaman has the ability to discriminate between ordinary waking consciousness and non-ordinary states of
consciousness such as SSCs. Schizophrenics often tend to lack this discriminative faculty. Third, the content of the schizophrenic's inner experiences
tend to be "overtly negative" (e.g., delusions of persecution), whereas this affliction is generally absent in shamanism (Noll, p. 451). The shaman's
reported perceptions are predominantly visual (e.g., "predatory creatures," "spirit helpers"), while those of the schizophrenic tend to be auditory (e.g.,
voices perceived to be external to the percipient). Finally, Noll states that schizophrenia "is characterized by a flattening, blunting, or a contextually
inappropriate expression of affect" (p. 454). In contrast, the shaman enters ecstatic states that result in an intensification of "contextually appropriate
expressions of affect for public display" (p. 454).
Additionally, Noll (1983) attempts to distinguish between shamanic visionary states and those deriving from other traditions (e.g., Tantric yoga, ritual
magic, alchemy, witchcraft). Noll acknowledges that controlled visionary states function as an integral component of various Eastern (e.g., Tantric yoga)
and Western (e.g., ritual magic) traditions. SSCs may be conceptualized as visionary states characterized by vivid and spontaneous mental imagery to
which the aspirant confers "absolute ontological validity" (Noll, p. 445). The aspirant adopts the role of participant-observer, exercising volitional control
over the phenomenological effects associated with SSCs (Peters, 1982). The shaman's penchant for active engagement distinguishes him or her from
experts associated with other traditions that tend to passively attend to their visionary content. According to Noll, another crucial distinction concerns
the "intrapersonal" and "interpersonal" aims associated with the shaman's entry into a SSC--expressly, the obtaining of knowledge on behalf of the
community, the desire to heal one's self or others, and divination practices.
Peters (1989) asserts that SSCs may be likened to an imaginal or directed-daydreaming state that is tantamount to the "lucid" or "waking dream."
Peters further contends that SSCs are not necessarily indicative of psychopathology nor do they involve a dissociative amnesia. Moreover, the aspirant
can, to a large degree, apply volitional control over the imaginal content and duration of SSCs: "Significant for the psychological perspective is that both
shamanistic embodiment and magical flight involve controlled visualizations, are lucid and non-amnesic" (Peters, p. 120). Peters also asserts that SSCs
are indicative of a transpersonal experience (i.e., transcendence of the spatial and temporal boundaries associated with the individual's self-identity).
Arguably the most sophisticated phenomenological research undertaken to date in the area of shamanism has been by Walsh (1990a, 1993a, 1993b,
1995), who engaged in the multidimensional mapping of shamanic journeying experiences and reported (1) an increase in concentration; (2)
"fluid" (moves freely between selected visual images) rather than fixed or "one-pointed" (e.g., the Buddhist jhanas) concentration; (3) volitional control
over entry and exit and partial control over one's phenomenology; (4) high levels of arousal and thus a decrease in calmness; (5) affect may be positive
or negative and is perhaps contingent upon the visual mental imagery encountered; (6) a self-sense experienced as a "soul" distinct from the physical
body; (7) visual imagery that is highly organized, often multi-modal (e.g., visual, auditory, somatic), and compatible with a shamanic cosmology; and (8)
a reduced awareness of the environment. (This last characteristic, however, is considered to be minimal, as the shaman still possesses the ability to
communicate with spectators.)
The salient point is that the key definitional elements of SSCs do not pertain to consciousness but rather the objects of consciousness, that is, content
of which a privileged observer may be consciously aware (e.g., visual mental imagery, body image, volitional control, affect). Consequently, if one uses
"SSCs" as a subsidiary part of the notion of consciousness as one being conscious of something (e.g., an internal or external event), then one has
committed the consciousness/content fallacy on the grounds that consciousness is implicitly held to be both: (1) the process that allows a privileged
observer to be consciously aware of content, that is, constituents of a privileged observer's momentary experience (i.e., definitions of consciousness);
and (2) the content itself (i.e., definitions of SSCs). That is, when the qualifier "shamanic states" is affixed to consciousness, "it" [consciousness] is held
to be an object. Thus, the term "shamanic states of consciousness" confuses consciousness and its content (or objects) by erroneously conceptualizing
consciousness as an object rendered perceptible, presumably, by "itself." The erroneous implication is that consciousness can become an object for
"itself." However, as previously stated, consciousness cannot directly experience itself as a perceptible object, for then it would cease to be the subject
(e.g., Kant, 1781/1933; Vasu, 1979). As Schopenhauer (cited in Feinberg, 2001, p. 140) explains:
If "shamanic states of consciousness" is not being used as a subsidiary part of the aforementioned notion of consciousness, then the definition of
consciousness that has been used to extrapolate a definition for shamanic states of consciousness needs to be explicitly stated.
To reiterate: we have argued that if the term "shamanic states of consciousness" is applied as an extension of the conscious awareness component of
consciousness, then this results in a theoretical confusion of consciousness and its content; that is, consciousness is mistaken for the content of
consciousness. Consequently, we argue that what has typically been referred to as a "shamanic 'state' of consciousness" is not a state of
consciousness at all, but rather a specific pattern of phenomenal properties (e.g., visual mental imagery, body image, time sense).
It is arguable, however, that phenomenal properties do not encapsulate the variety of mental phenomena that may be objectified by consciousness. For
example, as previously discussed, Block (2002) formulated the notion of access-consciousness whereby an entity is held to be conscious of nonphenomenal mental objects, for instance, information primed for the rational control of one's actions (Silby, 1998). Similarly, O'Brien and Opie (1997)
suggest that "phenomenal experience" does not refer to objects associated with self-consciousness and access-consciousness (e.g., self-concept and
information that may be invoked to control actions, respectively), but rather the "'what is it like?' of experience" (p. 269). For the purposes of this paper,
however, we will adopt Reber and Reber's (2001, p. 532) definition of a phenomenal field as "absolutely anything that is in the total momentary
experiencing of a person, including the experience of the self," and apply it to "phenomenal properties." As a result, we will define "phenomenal
properties" as the qualities of "absolutely anything that is in the total momentary experiencing of a person, including the experience of the self" (Reber &
Reber, p. 532). It is arguable that if one defines "phenomenal properties" in this way, then a "shamanic pattern of phenomenal properties" encapsulates
what has been referred to by Block (1995) and others (e.g., Lormand, 1996) as phenomenal and non-phenomenal objects of conscious awareness and,
consequently, the content of which a privileged observer may be aware during a SSC. (iv) One may then recommend that the term "shamanic states of
consciousness" be supplanted by "shamanic patterns of phenomenal properties." It would seem that by reconceptualizing the notion of an SSC in this
manner, the theoretical confusion between consciousness and content is negated.
Conclusion

The present paper reviewed numerous definitions of the term "consciousness" and argued that they all emphasize the distinction between
consciousness and the content of consciousness. It was further suggested that when the qualifier "shamanic states" is affixed to consciousness,
"it" [consciousness] is held to be an object; thus, the term "shamanic states of consciousness" confuses consciousness and its content. The erroneous
implication is that consciousness can become an object for "itself." This fallacy was referred to as the "consciousness/content fallacy." It was contended
that by reconceptualizing a shamanic state of consciousness as a shamanic pattern of phenomenal properties, the theoretical confusion between
consciousness and content is avoided, thereby negating the aforementioned fallacy. Clearly, such logic may be extended to other "states of
consciousness." For example, the term "Buddhist (e.g., jhanas) states of consciousness" may be replaced by "Buddhist (e.g., jhanas) patterns of
phenomenal properties"; "yogic (e.g., samadhi) states of consciousness" by "yogic (e.g., samadhi) patterns of phenomenal properties," and so on.
The consciousness/content fallacy has numerous theoretical implications for "states of consciousness" research in general and shamanic studies in
particular. Theories of SSCs, for example, would be enhanced by supplanting the term "shamanic states of consciousness" with "shamanic patterns of
phenomenal properties." Theories containing the consciousness/content fallacy would need to be revised to avoid fallacious contentions such as
consciousness is simultaneously: (1) the "cognizor" of shifts in, for instance, "subjective experience"; and (2) the shifts in "subjective experience"
themselves. If a particular SSC theory did not incorporate the term "shamanic states of consciousness" as a subsidiary of the concept of consciousness
as conscious awareness of something, then this would need to be explicitly stated. Fundamentally, SSC theories would need to be reformulated so that
the phenomenon being explained is alterations in phenomenal properties rather than alterations in consciousness.
In addition, the consciousness/content fallacy has implications for quantitative and qualitative research. A researcher who is cognizant of this fallacy
and wishes to develop a survey instrument to quantitatively measure, for example, shamanic experiences, would construct items pertaining to
alterations in phenomenal properties, rather than states of consciousness.v For instance, items such as "I experienced an extremely unusual state of
consciousness" would be omitted in favor of items addressing a range of phenomenal properties (e.g., "My subjective time sense seemed to slow
down"; "My visual imagery became extremely vivid;" "I felt great joy"). Similarly, consider a research situation in which, for example, an existentialphenomenological study of shamanic journeying experiences is conducted using semi-structured interviews for the purpose of obtaining non-numerical
data that may be organized into comprehensive constituent themes. A researcher who is mindful of the consciousness/content fallacy would not pose
open-ended questions about "shamanic states of consciousness" or "alterations in consciousness." Instead open-ended questions pertaining to
phenomenal properties would be asked. For example, "Can you please tell me about the visual mental images that you encountered during your last
journeying experience?"
The authors hope that this paper's elucidation and proposed resolution of the consciousness/content fallacy will encourage theoreticians and
researchers of consciousness from diverse backgrounds to address its implications.
REFERENCES