I’m very excited to be presenting a new offering. This is tarot and oracle card readings with an optional shamanic journey. I’ve been reading the tarot for myself and friends for fourteen years and, more recently, have been reading for clients too. I have also been journeying to the spirits of the cards to ask for advice in my personal practice.
I’d been uncertain about how to integrate this into my shamanic work and this morning the idea came to me – tarot and oracle card readings with an optional shamanic journey to gain guidance from the spirits of the cards.
The decks I will be using are the Wildwood Tarot and the Shaman’s Oracle. The Wild Wood Tarot is inspired by the shamanic wisdom of the pre-Celtic cultures of Western Europe and features ‘classic forest archetypes’ such as the Green Man and Woman, the Hooded Man, and the Seer. It also includes animal spirits such as Wolf, Lynx, Hawk and Salmon.
The Shaman’s Oracle is based on prehistoric cave paintings from around the world. Figures in your Caves of Earth, Rivers, Hearthfires, Winds and Ice will lead you into the darkness to inspiration and insight and back out again. Spirits you might meet include the Spirit of Truth, the Ancestor of Guidance, the Dancer of Joy, the Hunter of Conflict and the Shaman of Purification.
Readings will include an email consultation establishing a question and a spread. A reading will take 45 minutes to an hour and a reading with a shamanic journey will take an additional half an hour. I charge £15 an hour. I can provide in person, online, and distance options. Contact: lornasmithers81@gmail.com
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, flying at me like a mad dog, just one tooth at the end of a wooden haft, the spear that was thrown long ago, that should have pierced me before I started running.
It’s finally caught up.
It opens me and inside I am empty and hollow as the old yew tree on which my ragged carcass is hung.
And of course the ravens come.
And of course He’s amongst them – my God who hung on the yew in raven form for nine nights pierced by the same damn spear.
I always knew my turn would come.
And so He comes to sit beside me and I go to visit Him and we are one – the tree, the spear, the hung, the void, the hollowness within and without.
And this moment is within us.
This drawing and poem record a rite I undertook before the Winter Solstice in 2025 – nine days in meditation at the Abyss with my God. Looking back, on the one hand it had worth as a devotional offering, but on the other it wasn’t the healthiest of impulses. It opened a can of worms leading to my recent insights about how my monasticism and asceticism had partly been driven by the unhealthy restrictive and self-destructive impulses that also drove my eating disorder.
Most people in today’s world who have an eating disorder have heard that voice. A lot of people who don’t have an eating disorder have likely heard it too.
Not feeling thin enough is an obvious driver of eating disorders such as anorexia, bulimia and binge eating disorder. We live in a culture where we’re surrounded by a surplus of food with the most readily available foods such as take aways and things in wrappers being processed and full of fat and sugar. Yet, we’re pressured to be thin. Thin bodies are associated with self-discipline, with eating ‘good’ foods like lean meat and salads, with being active. Fat bodies are associated with a lack of control, with eating ‘bad’ foods like chips and chocolate, with laziness and avoidance of exercise. This drives people to unhealthy dieting, which can lead to an eating disorder.
Yet, thin societal ideals have only been around for a couple of centuries. Eating disorders haven’t always mainly been about thinness. They might instead be related to other feelings of not being enough. Examples throughout history of anorexia mirabilis, ‘wondrous’, ‘miraculous’ or ‘holy anorexia’ were more to do with not feeling holy or special enough.
The earliest known example is Blaesilla, a Roman woman who lived in the 4th century. She was the daughter of Paula of Rome, a saint and Desert Mother, who became abbess of a convent of nuns under the strict ascetic regime of Saint Jerome.
Paula of Rome and her nuns
Blaesilla led a ‘merry life’ until, aged eighteen, she married, was widowed, then criticised by Jerome for her ‘frivolous’ behaviour. Like her mother, she began to follow the ascetic methods of Jerome. She took to wearing plain clothes, studied hard, prayed harder and fasted to extremes. The extremity of her fasting killed her at the age of twenty. It might be argued that not feeling holy enough in the face of the demands of Jerome and the status of her mother drove her to prove her worth by self-starvation.
It might, perhaps, be said that feelings of not being holy enough also drove other female religious figures in medieval times, such as Catherine of Siena, to starve themselves to death. Catherine gave up meat at a very young age. In her later life, she barely left her cell and went almost entirely without food or sleep. She wrapped an iron chain around her body and scourged herself until she bled. Still, her penances weren’t enough. She eventually came to reject all food except for the bread and wine of the Eucharist, for which she, unsurprisingly, developed such an extreme and unseemly hunger some members of the clergy refused to give it to her. She died at the age thirty-three.
In Hellenistic culture and during the medieval period, restrictive dieting and the resulting thinness were associated with self-discipline and religious purity. Fasting and being thin made a person feel more holy, more enough.
The ‘fasting women’ of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such as Martha Taylor, Anne Moore and Mary Thomas, who were renowned for surviving for extended periods of time without food were seen as living ‘wonders’ or ‘miracles’. Their fasting has been linked to illness and trauma, but also might be seen to be related to feelings of not being enough.
At this point, it’s worth highlighting that the majority of historic examples of people suffering from eating disorders are female and this continues today with 75% being women and 25% men. I believe this to be a reflection of the patriarchal nature of Western European culture since the dominance of Christianity.
Women, subordinate to men, have rarely felt they are enough. Thus, female religious, unable to become clergy, turned instead to proving their worth and holiness through extreme ascetic practices including self-starvation. Later women starved themselves as they had no other means of leading wondrous lives.
Over the last couple of centuries, the media has constantly been sending out the message that we’re not enough – not thin enough, not fit enough. Social media influencers reinforce this by showing off their toned bodies and food and exercise regimes. This can lead to restrictive eating and over-exercising and thereby to Anorexia nervosa and Anorexia athletica. Feeling we are not enough can also cause us to comfort eat, over-eat, or binge, which can lead to Bulimia nervosa (for those who purge) or to binge eating disorder. It is common for a person to switch between eating disorder diagnoses.
***
My eating disorder began when I was six as a slightly tubby autistic child. I was neither thin enough nor normal enough to fit in, so I got bullied. This led to comfort eating, binge eating, then to binge eating disorder. I started restricting and over-exercising when I was thirteen because I wanted to be thinner and more normal (thin = normal) but the binger won out again. In my twenties I ‘conquered’ the binging at the price of slipping into mild anorexia.
My life continued to be dominated by destructive patterns of dietary restriction, excessive exercise and binge drinking. These were driven by a feeling of failure – not getting funding for my PhD, not succeeding in a career with horses, not being able to make a living as a writer, failing at a second attempt at a career – this time in conservation.
Taking up strength training and adopting a monastic lifestyle helped. Instead of being thin, I determined to become a strong vessel for the inspiration of my Gods. But I was never monastic enough. I was never holy enough.
Having moved on from monasticism I can see how much of my asceticism – giving up certain foods and alcohol, keeping a strict meditation and exercise regime, getting rid of clothes and books and cutting out entertainment – was driven by the same restrictive principle that, in extremes, becomes anorexia, starving oneself of all life’s sustenance.
The apogee was when I spent nine days in meditation at the Abyss with a spear in my belly – a representation of the impulse within that can lead to death through self-starvation.
Having realised that monasticism wasn’t entirely healthy for me and decided to focus on becoming a good shamanic practitioner, the voice remains, telling me I’m not shamanic enough. Trying to force upon me its ideals of what a shamanic practitioner should look like (which, of course, is thin, signifying purity and self-discipline). Mocking my more muscular body and red face. In opposition to this, my Gods and spirits tell me I have to be strong in body and mind for myself and my clients.
As I’ve deepened into my path, the unwavering support and unconditional love of my patron God, Vindos, my helping spirits, my mum, a good friend and my shamanic mentor, and kind words from clients, have helped me to feel more worthy, more enough.
I’d like to say that I have reached a point where I feel I’m of intrinsic worth and value but I’m not there yet. Being able to control my weight and my exercise routine remain a crutch. But being able to say “I’m enough” occasionally is a step forward.
A few months ago, I learnt how the new weight loss jabs not only help people to lose weight but dampen ‘food noise’. I hadn’t heard of ‘food noise’ before and quickly found out that the term was coined in the 2000s and relates to ‘food-related intrusive thoughts’ – the constant chatter about food that goes on in a person’s mind even when they’re not hungry. I recognised it immediately as something I used to experience (along with ‘alcohol noise’) and still experience to a certain degree. It has been labelled in eating disorder communities as ‘the eating disorder voice’.
Other the past few years, I had worked out that my food and alcohol related thoughts were just a couple of the varieties of the many types of noise generated by my over-thinking mind and had learnt to quieten them with meditation. Thus, I was shocked and intrigued to find out that an injection can mimic the effects of a practice I had taken a number of years to develop and still struggle with. This got me researching how the weight loss jabs work and how they affect the same neural pathways that are affected by meditation.
The medications in the weight loss injections are called GLP-1 receptor agonists. They are synthetic variants of GLP-1, an essential gut hormone, which lowers blood sugar, reduces appetite, and brings about feelings of satiety. Variants include semaglutide (Ozempic and Wegovy) and tirzepatide (Mounjaro).
When a person eats a meal, GLP-1 is released, and travels through the bloodstream and the vagus nerve to the brain, where it causes appetite suppression. It also goes to the pancreas, which produces insulin, lowering blood sugar.
GLP-1 ‘effectively shuts down areas in the brain involved in feeding response, homeostatic controls, energy balance and decision-making about food—as well as the liking and wanting of food and impulsive behaviours associated with eating.’ Thus, it dampens cravings and food-related thoughts.
Researchers have identified that GLP-1 shuts down the Default Mode Network – the background setting of the brain which drives mind-wandering, ruminating on the past, planning for the future, and self-reflection. This is responsible for us getting stuck in negative thought loops and food-related thoughts.
Like GLP-1, meditation, which involves training the mind to concentrate on one object of thought of a time, also shuts down the Default Mode Network. It not only stops ‘food noise’ but all other types of noise as well.
GLP-1 has also been shown to have an effect on the reward pathways that are not only associated with addiction to food but with other addictions. ‘Neurons that produce dopamine—a chemical with pivotal involvement in motivation and pleasure—project to the nucleus accumbens, a midbrain structure important for experiencing reward… Like other brain structures, the nucleus accumbens has GLP-1 receptors. Studies have shown that in animals, dopamine release peaks after they eat a sweet meal of sucrose—and after they are exposed to cocaine or opioids.’ GLP-1 dampens this effect, meaning the peak to such rewards is no longer received, weakening these pathways.
Meditation strengthens our ability to recognise cravings as just thoughts and not to act on them, thus weakening the neural pathways of food addiction. Both could thus be helpful for people with binge eating disorder and bulimia.
It’s notable, here, that restrictive eating disorders, such as anorexia, re-wire the brain to get the dopamine hit from restricting food intake and / or over-exercising to lose weight. Meditation can also help with addiction to restricting and excessive exercise.
It has been shown that people who use weight loss injections usually gain weight afterwards if they do not continue to follow a healthy lifestyle. Combining taking a GLP-1 receptor agonist with learning meditative techniques can help people to lose weight and keep the weight off.
River-watcher, what have you and your predecessors seen of the water-dwellers?
Was it from you the tribe was sprung?
A couple of weeks ago, when I was walking beside the river Ribble, my eyes were drawn to this splendid river-watcher, an alder tree covered with brown-golden catkins and still bearing the dark brown cones from last year. Its trunk was splotchy with a white crustose lichen and bore several mosses.
This got me researching the natural history of alder, its role in myth and folklore, and pondering how it was perceived by the early inhabitants of this land, the Setantii tribe, ‘the Dwellers in the Water Country’, and their successors.
Alder was one of the first trees to re-populate Britain after the Ice Age. A pioneer species, it is able to grow in barren and soggy ground due to its partnership with a bacterium called Frankia alni, which absorbs nitrogen from the air and exchanges it with the tree for sugars produced by photosynthesis. Alder then fixes nitrogen into the soil and enhances the fertility, meaning other trees and plants can follow. The nitrogen-fixing nodules of Frankia alni are visible on the roots.
The wood of alder would have been viewed as particularly sacred across Britain and Ireland, wet and boggy countries, as it does not rot in water. Since prehistoric times, it has been used for the building of crannógs (lake dwellings), in fish sluices, and for building trackways across bogs.
Near the river-watcher, in the location of Riversway Dockland, a brushwood platform, suggesting the presence of a Bronze Age lake dwelling was found. That the twigs and branches hadn’t rotted away suggests they may have been alder.
Alder was also used to make bowls, domestic vessels such as the Pallasboy vessel, and wooden idols. One of the most famous is the ‘Red Man of Kilbeg’ from Ballykean bog in Ireland. It has been suggested that alder was used to craft this idol because red droplets that resemble blood ooze from the wood when it is cut, associating with the human bleeding and with death. In this context it also interesting that, in early Irish lore, the first human was believed to have been born from alder, a story that might be linked with its flesh-like qualities. The Scottish Ballachullish Goddess was also made from alder.
Alder was used to make shields. In medieval Welsh mythology, Bran the Blessed, a gigantic son of the sea-god Llyr, carried an alder shield. Bran and his army were compared to trees when they crossed the sea from Britain to Ireland. Bran, like an alder tree, allowed his body to be used as a bridge by his warriors across the river Shannon. His sister, Branwen, had a son named Gwern (which means alder in Welsh) who was cast into a fire. Alder thus seems to be bound up with the mythos of the Children of Llyr.
Lancashire’s Dwellers in the Water Country were likely, too, to have made their shields from alder and to have traversed the waters between Britain and Ireland. Place-name evidence from my local area such as ‘Alderfield’ and ‘Carr Wood’ (relating to alder carr) suggests that this species has long been held in particular favour and has been abundant.
I did wonder whether the sluices for the canals and for Riversway Dockland were made of alder but the former is Baltic Pine and the latter is Greenheart.
Alder is of value not only to human but other-than-human water dwellers. Where it grows beside water, its roots provide shelter for fish and nesting sites for otters. When its leaves fall, it provides food for river flies and aquatic beetles, who are feasted upon, in turn by fish such as brown trout and salmon.
Its catkins provide nectar for bees and its seeds for finches, such as the charms of goldfinches who can frequently be seen beside the Ribble. It is the food plant of insects, such as the alder leaf beetle, which I have seen on alders on peatland nature reserves. I found a red beetle on the river-watcher’s trunk and suspect it is a leaf beetle from the Chrysomelidae family.
Alder is also the food plant of the larvae of several moths, including alder kitten, pebble hooktip, the autumnal, and the blue bordered carpet moth.
Alder trunks are frequently covered in white splotches which might be mistaken for the colour of the bark but are, in fact, crustose lichens. On the river-watcher, I found a white spotted lichen called Lecidella elaeochroma. Also a patch of Parmelia sulcata. On nearby trees was Trentepholia aurea, a green alga that appears orange and is a photosynthetic partner with Graftis scripta, another lichen that is also often found on alder trees. I identified these with the help of a friend who is studying lichens.
All these factors, together, suggest that alder has long been a special tree to Lancashire’s water dwellers and thus it remains in the hearts of many.
In the Way of the Buzzard Mystery School it is associated with foundations and with being a spiritual warrior. This fits with it providing a platform for lake dwellings and with Bran’s shield and I will be drawing upon its support and protective qualities as I prepare to take my shamanic offerings further into the world.
Soul exchange is a shamanic healing for soul loss and might be seen as a form of soul retrieval. In this instance, the focus is on a loss of soul to another person who we have been in a relationship with. It’s based on the notion that as we move in and out of relationships with other persons we can pick up parts of each other. Persons can include family, friends, lovers and pets, and groups and organisations. This is a natural process. Soul exchange is needed if we become overly attached to, bound up with, or intertwined with another person and the attachments feel unhealthy. It’s a little like giving somebody’s possessions back at the end of a marriage.
A soul exchange, as I have been taught it, takes place in a neutral location in the Otherworld. Both parties have the opportunity to return soul parts that do not belong to them. In terms of what we mean by ‘soul parts’ in this context, I like Nicholas Breeze Wood’s definition ‘packages of personal energy’ (1). The soul parts appear as objects and are metaphorical.
The practitioner journeys the client to the location and the spirit of the person with whom the soul exchange is to take place is invited to attend. It is important to note that soul exchange is the only shamanic healing that does not require permission from the person in physical reality. This is firstly because the spirit of the person has free choice whether to join in and secondly because you are giving something back that belongs to them and are not taking anything of theirs. This makes possible the process with persons who may be reluctant in this world but are willing in spirit.
Once the spirit of the other person is present, the process has been explained to them, and they have agreed, the soul exchange can begin. The client takes the first turn, giving back any soul parts that do not belong to them. They do this by reaching into themselves and bringing forth the parts in the form of objects. These are given, one by one, to their power animal, who takes them to the power animal of the other person, who hands them over.
Another point to note is the importance of the exchange taking place between the power animals. This is to maintain distance and prevent re-entanglement or re-traumatisation if the relationship was traumatic. Direct speech and eye contact between the client and the other person should be avoided.
The recipient then has the choice of whether or not to take the soul parts. Any parts not taken are transformed or disposed of by the power animals or left in the Otherworld for the spirits of place to deal with as they see fit.
Once the client has unburdened themselves of all the soul parts that do not belong to them, the other person is invited to give back any soul parts they might have taken in the same way.
Once the soul exchange is done, it is also helpful to check for any unhealthy energy cords between the client and the other person and to ask the power animals to cut, dissolve, or transform them in some way.
Once the process has been completed, the spirit of the other person and the spirits are thanked and the practitioner and the client journey back to this world.
Afterwards, the client has a chance to speak to the practitioner about their experience. They may or may not want to discuss the significance of the objects. If they do, the practitioner will guide them to make their own interpretation rather than interpreting the objects for them. The client will be encouraged to journal their experience and to meditate on, journey on, or create art around the objects if they are inspired to do so.
As always, after a shamanic healing, the client should take it easy for the rest of the day and eat nourishing food and drink plenty of water. They should keep an eye out for any effects and shifts in their energy levels and in the sense of their relationship with the other person and others around them. It’s also good to look out for nature signs, dreams and other coincidences.
***
My first formal experience of soul exchange was under the guidance of my mentor. (I had tried it alone informally but hadn’t got it right). We decided to work with a family member with whom I have a difficult relationship, to check in whether either of us was holding on to soul parts that don’t belong to us.
The process was not straightforward because one of the person’s ancestors turned up and it turned out that an additional soul exchange needed to take place between the two of them before the one with me could be carried out.
Since the soul exchanges, the family member has had more energy and there have been less arguments between us, although our relationship hasn’t improved. I think that’s because 44 years of ingrained habits are difficult to unstick.
The soul exchanges overseen by my mentor gave me a good grounding for working with clients. I began by working with volunteer clients then moved on to charging a student rate. I have so far conducted soul exchanges for clients with a variety of persons, including family, friends, partners and an organisation.
When I first started out with soul exchange, I saw it as an accessory process to soul retrieval that was not quite on a par with the core shamanic techniques in the Harner school of shamanism. Having worked with it myself and with clients, I’ve come to realise that it is just as useful and just as powerful.
One of the things I like most about soul exchange, as an autistic person, is that it has a structure that is easy to follow. Because it takes place in a set location and follows a set procedure, it isn’t quite as unpredictable as soul retrieval, which can take you anywhere in the spirit world and anything can happen.
However, this doesn’t mean that things can’t get intense. The soul parts and the process of release can bring up strong emotions, as can cutting the cords, and the final parting (if it is made) between the persons involved. In these instances, I have intuited, with the help of my guides, when to speak and when to allow the client space, providing patient and compassionate support. I have also learnt to trust in the wisdom of my own spirit helpers and those of the client and the other person, who know what to do when we do not. On several occasions they have displayed ways of disposing of or transforming objects and removing cords beyond the thinking of me or a client.
From my own experience and client work, I have learnt how different interactions can feel between persons in the real world and in spirit. In the latter, there is a sense of lightness, as another client noticed, a generosity, in contrast to when the two sides are weighed down by material concerns and dissensions.
Afterwards, benefits have been felt in terms of unburdening, letting go and release. Memories have felt less intense. There has been a sense of distancing and separation. Energy has returned, with an ability to move on.
It has been a pleasure and an honour to hold space for this sacred process. My training in soul exchange is now complete and I am looking forward to continuing to offer this healing as an important component of my shamanic practice.
Footnotes
(1) Nicholas Breeze Wood, ‘Soul Loss and Retrieval’, Sacred Hoop 131, p50
They Called Me Pig is a poetry collection charting the development of an eating disorder that began with childhood bullying and how I have begun to heal by building a healthier relationship with food, exercise and my body. I have written it as part of the inner work of my shamanic apprenticeship, as a way of processing trauma and transforming it into art. I’m hoping it’s a topic everybody can relate to on some level as we all have a body and need to eat and exercise to live. You might also have relatives or friends with an eating disorder who might benefit from reading it.
It is downloadable for free but if you enjoy it please consider reciprocating by passing on the link to a friend or by telling somebody about my writing and shamanic work.
If you’re interested in working with me on using shamanic work combined with art as a method of healing, transformation and self-expression, I offer sessions at £15 an hour. Please get in touch lornasmithers81@gmail.com
‘In Annwn below the earth… there is one who knows what sadness is better than joy.’ ~ ‘The Hostile Confederacy’
‘No mud, no lotus.’ ~ Thich Nhat Hahn
If I was to define my core purpose in life at present, I would say that it is transforming suffering, within myself and within others, in service to my Gods. When I met my patron God, Vindos / Gwyn ap Nudd, I was struggling with suicidal ideation. He showed me the Brythonic Otherworld. He made me His awenydd ‘person inspired’ – a poet and spirit worker in the Brythonic tradition. He gave me meaning and purpose. My vocation has given me the strength to begin to heal my own wounds and, more recently, to help others.
Gwyn is a ruler of Annwn (the Otherworld) and a guide of souls. In a medieval Welsh poem (1), He speaks of gathering the souls of the battle dead. He and His people, the spirits of Annwn, later known as fairies, who also appear as the Wild Hunt, are depicted taking the souls of those who have died suddenly or traumatically to the Otherworld.
I believe Gwyn is the one in Annwn, in the poem ‘The Hostile Confederacy’, attributed to Taliesin, who knows ‘what sadness / is better than joy’. He’s seen countless sorrows, carries the weight of the battle dead, has gathered the souls of countless suicides, murder victims, those who have died in tragic accidents. Thus, He has an investment in the transformation of suffering so that such untimely deaths are less likely to happen.
Gwyn, as the Fairy King, and the fairies, are also renowned for taking living people, often those who have suffered trauma, to Their realm, or for leading them to wild places, where they mostly recover and then return. (2)
Gwyn and His people are associated with trauma and its healing. This usually takes place in the Otherworld or the wild. This is also shown in a fragment from the fourteenth century Latin document, Speculum Christiani, which describes how common folk in Wales invoked Gwyn to cure the evil eye: ‘Some stupid people also go stupidly to the door holding fire and iron in the hands when someone has inflicted illness, and call to the King of the Benevolent Ones and his Queen, who are evil spirits, saying: ‘Gwyn ap Nudd who are far in the forests for the love of your mate allow us to come home.’ This passage suggests that those suffering from the evil eye are ‘away’ and that Gwyn, who has a distant abode in the wild, is able to bring them home.
In medieval Welsh literature and later folklore, the Otherworld is depicted as a place of green hills and lush forests where there are sparkling rivers of wine and mead. The fortress of its king, with towers of glass, lit from within, is the centrepiece. Within are shining treasures, an endless feast of meat, fruit and mead.
Activities in the Otherworld include: hunting, feasting, dancing and carousing. Coming back from the land of no pain is difficult. Some people crumble to dust, some go insane, others pine away, those who survive become poets. The saying ‘Dead, mad, or a poet’ summarises the outcomes.
In the Brythonic tradition, poetry provides the means of processing trauma, transforming suffering and giving voice to experiences of ecstasis and healing. Medieval Welsh bards, such as Taliesin, Aneirin, Myrddin Wyllt, and Llywarch Hen all gave voice to personal and cultural trauma. In, and through them, their suffering and the suffering of their people was transformed into some of the most tragic, beautiful and potent works of poetry within our heritage.
I also found that poetry could help me to transform my suffering and that of the land and the ancestors but, alone, it was not enough. A bardic lifestyle of drinking too much and writing and performing poetry, unsurprisingly, proved to be detrimental to both my mental and physical health. At this point in time, I was very good at having ecstatic, often drunken experiences, and writing lots of poems, but not very good at coming home.
I began building a better relationship with my body and a meditation and mindfulness practice during the period I was a nun and began training as a shamanic practitioner. ‘Being present for Gwyn’ became one of my core practices.
Gwyn, through His likeness with Shiva, guided me to the yogic and Buddhist traditions. Over the last few months, I have been greatly inspired by the works of Thich Nhat Hahn and the Dharma teachings from Plum Village. Unlike other forms of Buddhism I have come across that preach negation of the body and the world to achieve enlightenment and view animals as inferior, the Plum Village tradition is embodied, trauma informed, and is based on inter-being in respectful relationship with the world and all beings. Joy and enlightenment can be found in the present moment at any place and time.
The Plum Village teachings centre on mindfulness, which involves the practice of coming home to our breath and to our bodies in the here-and-now. Mindfulness is the key to transforming suffering. In his book, No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering, Thich Nhat Hahn outlines the Buddha’s teachings on suffering and its transformation in the Four Noble Truths.
The first Noble Truth is that there is suffering. Suffering exists within us on physical, mental and spiritual levels and outside us, in our families, friendship circles, within our ancestry, within our culture and within the environment. In the West, rather than being taught how to handle our suffering, we are sold countless forms of numbing and distraction. We drink it away, stuff it down, or lose ourselves in social media and other virtual entertainment.
In the place of distraction, Buddhism posits mindfulness – ‘the capacity to dwell in the present moment, to know what’s happening in the here and now… with mindfulness you can recognise the presence of suffering… it’s with that same energy that you can tenderly embrace the suffering.’ He speaks of taking care of our suffering as being like a mother holding her child.
The second Noble Truth is: ‘there is a course of action that generates suffering’. We are encouraged to look deeply at the roots of our suffering. These often lie in past trauma, ancestral trauma, and the fears and habits that result. They can also lie in our attachments to materialist ideals. Gaining insight into the causes of our suffering helps to prevent us from making the same mistakes.
The Third Noble Truth is: ‘suffering ceases (ie. there is happiness)’. The key to true happiness is that it isn’t an aim for the future, ‘I will be happy when this problem is sorted, I have my dream job, my health is better.’ Happiness lies in dwelling mindfully in the present moment and if we can’t do it now, this very minute, we won’t be able to do it when that future moment arrives either.
This was a big learning for me because I have always been future orientated and placed my happiness in the future at the expense of ignoring the now. ‘I will be happy when I have my shamanic practitioner qualification’. ‘I will be happy when I am earning a living from my vocation’. No. ‘If I can’t be happy with my life now I won’t be happy if I achieve these aims in the future.’
The Fourth Noble Truth is: ‘there is a course of action leading to the cessation of suffering (the arising of happiness’)’. The Noble Eightfold Path, provides a tried and tested framework for generating happiness. It consists of Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness and Right Concentration. Mindfulness and ethical living form its core.
For me, the art of transforming suffering lies in a combination of mindfulness and shamanic work. Being able to go to the Otherworld and come home. Then, once I am home, making art out of the insights I have been gifted with.
When I gave up being Sister Patience, it was a shock to the system coming back to Lorna Smithers and all her shit (which I thought I’d transcended). Yet the shit has made good compost and flowers have grown from it in the form of three books (3) written in the last few months as well as recent articles.
If you’re interested in the process of transforming your own suffering through shamanic work, creativity, and coming home, I’m currently providing shamanic guidance sessions for £15 an hour at a student rate (contact lornasmithers81@gmail.com).
(1) The Conversation of Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir (HERE). (2) For example, see Sir Orfeo and the mythos surrounding Myrrdin Wyllt (HERE). (3) A memoir – The Edge of the Dark (HERE), a poetry collection – They Called Me Pig (soon to come), and an epic novel called The Lost Shrine of Nodens, which will be published through Sul Books in May 2017.
I hope everybody out there is well and enjoying the early spring flowers and lightening days.
Now is a good time to be tapping into the energies of the green things growing, the sap rising, the birds singing, the amphibians coming out of hibernation, the animals perking up. The Brythonic Goddess, Creiddylad*, who is associated with flowers and fertility, is taking Her first steps from Annwn (the Otherworld), so this is a great opportunity for connecting with Her.
I’m writing this post as I’m approaching the end of my shamanic apprenticeship and will only be charging student rates for a few more months (£15 for one hour shamanic guidance and £30 for a two hour shamanic healing).
I’ve got some spring offerings that might be helpful for you:
Shamanic Guidance Offer
If you’re struggling to establish a regular spiritual practice why not book three shamanic guidance sessions to get you on a roll? These can cover anything from meeting animal spirit guides, tree and plant allies, ancestors, and Gods and Goddesses, to divinatory journeys on life issues. Book three and get one half price (£37.50 in total). More info HERE.
Shamanic Healing Offer
Have you got a feeling you need a shamanic healing but you’re not quite sure what it is? Book a divinatory journey session to find out plus the shamanic healing session and get the journey session half price (£37.50). More info HERE.
Blessings of the spring flowers from Creiddylad’s garden.
*You can find out more about Creiddylad’s story HERE.
In the previous post, I talked about my personal experiences of an eating disorder, which began as binge eating disorder, then developed into mild anorexia. In this article, I’m going to be exploring the context of its development in relation to the rise of eating disorders in the 20th century and their prevalence at this time. I will begin by outlining what eating disorders are and how the different types of eating disorders are currently defined. I will then provide a brief history of eating disorders, focusing on how the shift of cultural ideals from fuller forms towards thinness has led to their proliferation over the last century. I shall discuss how the flawed BMI model has led to the demonisation of obesity and to healthy people being shamed as overweight and obese and to developing eating disorders. I will then talk about the disturbing phenomenon of the deification of anorexia as the goddess Ana, within the pro-Ana movement. Finally, I will focus on how the decline of religion in Western Europe has led to size becoming a religion, with its own commandments on food and exercise, as voiced by new idols on social media.
What is an Eating Disorder?
An eating disorder is defined by the Oxford Language Dictionary as ‘any of a range of mental conditions in which there is a persistent disturbance of eating behaviour and impairment of physical or mental health.’
Eating disorders often develop as ways of managing difficult or overwhelming emotions that stem from stress and trauma. They can be precipitated by dieting and may or may not be related to cultural ideals of thinness.
An eating disorder differs from dieting and other forms of disordered eating such as skipping meals, in terms of the severity, frequency and duration of the symptoms, the levels of psychological and physical stress, and the impact on the person’s capacity to function and their relationships.
The Types of Eating Disorder
The main types of eating disorder are anorexia, bulimia, and binge eating disorder. In the UK, two resources are used to diagnose eating disorders: the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Eating Disorders, 5th Edition (DSM-5) and the International Classification of Diseases, 11th Edition (ICD-11).
Anorexia is defined by ‘the restriction of energy intake relative to requirements leading to a significantly low body weight’, ‘intense fear of gaining weight’ and disturbance in perception of body weight and shape. Other symptoms include: amenorrhea, digestive issues, dizziness, fainting, feeling cold and numb, poor circulation and dry skin. In severe cases, anorexia can lead to osteoporosis, organ failure, cardiac arrest and death. Around 5% of patients with anorexia die within four years of receiving a diagnosis.
The main diagnostic criteria of bulimia are ‘episodes of binge eating’ followed by ‘inappropriate compensatory behaviour’. Binge eating is defined as eating within a 2-hour period ‘an amount of food that is definitely larger than what most individuals would eat in a similar period of time under similar circumstances’ and by ‘a sense of lack of control of overeating during the episode’. Compensatory behaviours include: vomiting, misuse of laxatives, fasting and excessive exercise. These episodes are driven by concerns about body weight and shape. They must take place at least once a week for three months to warrant a diagnosis. Other symptoms are similar to anorexia and self-induced vomiting can also cause a sore throat, swollen glands, tooth erosion, Russel’s sign on the hands and electrolyte imbalances.
The diagnosis of binge eating disorder is also based upon ‘recurrent episodes of binge eating’. These are not followed by compensatory behaviours. Binge eating episodes must be associated with three or more of the following criteria: ‘eating much more rapidly then normal, eating until feeling uncomfortably full, eating large amounts of food when not feeling physically hungry, eating alone because of feeling embarrassed by how much one is eating, feeling disgusted with oneself or very guilty afterward’. Marked distress about the binge eating must be present and the episodes must take place at least once a week for at least once a month. Binge eating disorder can lead to excessive weight gain and thus to high blood pressure, high cholesterol levels, breathing issues, joint problems, digestive diseases such as gallstones and gallbladder disease and type two diabetes.
There are also a number of Other Specified Eating and Feeding Disorders (OSFED). These include atypical anorexia wherein ‘the criteria for anorexia are met, except that despite significant weight loss, the individual’s weight is within or above the normal range’, bulimia (of low frequency and/or limited duration), binge eating disorder (of low frequency and/or limited duration), purging disorder, night eating syndrome, pica, rumination disorder, Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (AFRID), orthorexia and Unspecified Feeding or Eating Disorder (UFED).
A History of Eating Disorders
It’s likely that humans have restricted food intake, binged, purged, and over-exercised as a form of relief from stress and trauma since we have existed. However, for the most part, people did not engage in such behaviours to be thin.
Venus figurines, with large bellies, breast and hips, suggest that larger body shapes were idealised during prehistoric times. This might relate to food scarcity and to larger forms being associated with fertility and survival.
Venus of WillendorfVenus of Hohle Fells
Religious fasting has long been a common practice and differs from an eating disorder as it involves a conscious choice to bring a person closer to the divine rather being a coping mechanism or a method of weight loss. However, it can develop into an eating disorder when it becomes an addiction and spirals out of control and manifests as self-starvation.
From the Hellenistic period, we have the first records of religious fasting being taken to the extremes of emaciation and starving. Blaesilla, a Roman woman who followed the ascetic practices of Saint Jerome, starved herself to death. This has been interpreted as an early example of anorexia.
We also find examples of binging and purging that bear similarities to bulimia in wealthy cities such as Ancient Rome. The Roman emperor, Vitellius, was renowned for having three or four feasts a day, made possible by his vomiting. The emperor, Claudius, never left a meal until overfed, after which ‘a feather was placed in his throat to stimulate his gag reflex.’ These behaviours have more to do with gluttony – emptying one’s belly in order to fill it with more food – than with bulimia as a mental illness outside their control.
In medieval times, extreme ascetic practices remained common. Around the 10th century, Saint Wilgefortis, ‘bearded virgin’, starved herself to avoid marriage, leading to hair growing all over her body (a phenomenon known as languo – the body’s response to fat loss in order keep warm), including her face, leading to her growing a beard. Saint Catherine of Siena famously starved herself to death in 1380, attempting to survive only on the eucharist. This phenomenon has been referred to as anorexia mirabilis ‘holy anorexia’.
Saint WilgefortisSaint Catherine of Siena
Intriguingly, in medieval tales wild men and woman who become geilt or wyllt ‘mad’ such as Suibhne Geilt, Mis, Myrddin Wyllt, and the knight, Owain, who retreat in madness into the wilderness, are described as hairy. This, no doubt, was caused by them living in a state of near-starvation. Living in the wild and extreme fasting are associated with initiation in some cultures. This might be seen as a temporary state of anorexia, which reaches an end when the person has a religious experience and returns to their community.
The illness we now know as anorexia nervosa was first described by Richard Morton, in 1689, in relation to a male and female who lost their appetite and wasted away without physical explanation from nervous consumption. The term anorexia nervosa (a nervous loss of appetite)was coined by William Gull in 1873 in relation to case studies of young women, aged 16 – 23, who suffered from fatigue, loss of body mass and weakness.
These diagnoses bore no relation to societal ideals of thinness. Up until the nineteenth century, the ideal female body shape was curvy and voluptuous, as shown by statues and paintings of women with fuller figures. It was during the Victorian period that slimmer ideals came into vogue, with hourglass figures, and women cinching in their waists with corsets.
The thin ideal came into being in the 1920s with the flapper image focusing on a slender, boyish shape. In the 1960s, Twiggy provided the defining look. The apogee was the 1990s, when extreme levels of thinness were reached, with waif-like, clinically underweight models, referred to as heroin chic.
Flapper (Alice Joyce)TwiggyWaif – Kate Moss
The first case studies of binging and vomiting were recorded by Bliss and Branch in the 1960s, and by Ziolko during the 1970s. In 1979, Gerald Russell coined the term bulimia nervosa (bulimia means ‘ox-hunger’ and the term has been translated as ‘ravenous appetite’)in a paper covering 30 cases. Binge eating disorder was first described in 1959 by the psychiatrist, Albert Stunkard.
During the 1970s, an ‘epidemic of obesity’ was declared. People were labelled as overweight or obese and this led to many developing eating disorders.
A sudden rise in eating disorders, driven by the derogation of fat bodies and the glamorisation of near-anorexic bodies, was seen between the 1960s and 1990s. Their prevalence has risen even more sharply, by 15%, since 2000. This has been driven by the anxiety and social isolation of the COVID pandemic and by the influence of social media promoting unhealthy ‘thin’ and ‘fit’ ideals. A 2017 study by Hay, in the UK, found that that 8% of the cases were diagnosed with anorexia, 19% with bulimia, 5% with binge eating disorder, 5% with ARFID, and 47% with OSFED.
The Demonisation of Obesity
Unfortunately, fat-shaming has been around for a long time. In Spartan Greece, between the 6th and 2nd centuries BCE, slim, muscular physiques were favoured and fat people were shamed and even fined.
However, this was not the norm across cultures and history. Generally, fuller forms that were able to survive food shortages and harsh weather were lauded. In Western Europe, it was only during the nineteenth century, when the food supply became better, that a thin-waisted female figure was promoted and fatness became seen as a moral failing, associated with laziness and lack of self control. This was bound up with colonial values. Larger Black and Brown bodies were seen as dirty and undisciplined.
As the food supply has increased, so have the divisions between the cultural ideal of the thin white person and its antithesis – the fat (often Black) person. This has reached its height with the discourse around an ‘epidemic of obesity’.
Since the 1970s, obesity has been framed as a major health issue, stemming from unhealthy eating habits and a lack of exercise and associated with poverty. ‘Morbidly obese’ people, frequently depicted in the media as being lifted from their homes by ‘bariatric rescues’, are often seen as objects of ridicule and portrayed as being of demonic proportions.
In a 2025, in a report from the House of Commons Library on ‘Obesity Statistics’, 31% of women and 39% of men were labelled as overweight and 30% of women and 28% of men as obese. Adult obesity prevalence was shown to have risen from 15% in 1993 to 29% in 2022. This was shown to be associated with social deprivation, disability, ethnicity (‘people in Black ethnic groups have the highest rates of excess weight’) and a lack of education.
This discourse is based on the faulty BMI model hat originated as ‘the Quetelet index’ in 1932 when the Belgian sociologist, Adolphe Quetelet, designed the weight-to-height ratio (kg/m2) to define the ‘average man’ and measure population norms. Notably, it was created by a white man to find a norm amongst other white men. The term Body Mass Index (BMI) was coined in 1972 by Ancel Keys and used it as a tool for population studies on obesity.
Quetelet never intended his model to be used to used to measure individual health or body fat. It has increasingly been criticised because it does not take into account muscle mass, bone density or different body types.
Self-identified fat doctor, Astrıður Stefa´nsdottir, who, according to the BMI scale is overweight, yet is perfectly healthy, points out how the current ‘scientific’ position has led to fat people who are in in control of their fates in ‘the kingdom of the well’ being reduced to ‘patients’ in ‘the kingdom of the sick’ ‘under the management of medical personnel’.
During the 1960s, the Fat Liberation movement arose. This was deeply intertwined with the Black Rights movement. Both critiqued the hegemony of thin, white ideals and called for equal rights for fat and Black bodies. This has more recently developed into the Body Positivity movement and has led to the establishment of groups such as Health at Every Size (HAES) whose core principles are: weight inclusivity, health enhancement, respectful care, eating for well-being, and life-enhancing movement.
Sangerin Lizzo
The Deification of Anorexia
On the other extreme, the pro-anorexia or pro-ana movement began developing online in the early 2000s. Therein, anorexia is re-conceptualised as a lifestyle choice as opposed to an illness and is seen as a skill and as a religion.
These sites provide ‘thinspiration’ and actively encourage followers to under-eat and over-exercise, casting this in terms of self-discipline, and providing weight loss tips. ‘Anorexia is a skill, perfected by only a few. The chosen, the pure, the flawless.’ ‘Watch other people eat and feel superior. You don’t need that food!’ ‘The pain is necessary, especially the pain of hunger. It reassures you that you are strong, can withstand anything.’ They actively deny the danger to health and longevity of anorexia. ‘The bests anas never die.’
Anorexia is, even more disturbingly, portrayed as a religion with its own ruling goddess, Ana. She is viewed as a creator: ‘I (Ana) have created you, this thin, perfect, achieving child.’ She has her own version of the Ten Commandments, the Thin Commandments, such as ‘Thou shalt not eat without feeling guilty’. She is also viewed as a demoness who haunts and possesses.
This toxic online movement has led to people with anorexia seeing their illness as a lifestyle choice that lifts them above the herd, elevating them into a community who view themselves to be superior to the rest of food-eating society. This makes them less likely to seek treatment and can lead to death.
Size and Shape as Religion
Having studied the context, I now understand better the cultural milieu in which my eating disorder developed. I grew up in a Christian country with nominally Christian parents but, hating church parade with Brownies, reached the conclusion that the Christian God was not my God and didn’t entertain the thought that there might be others until I entered my mid-twenties.
My primary school was not religious. Instead, it was ruled by size and shape. A tubby child with a pot belly, I was bullied ruthlessly, called a ‘pig’. Comfort eating, due to bullying, led to binge eating, and I became overweight.
I’m not sure how long fat people have been identified with pigs. Wild boar and pigs are, contrarily, revered and cast as destructive in the Celtic tradition. Although swine were likely always seen as boisterous and as having voracious appetites, I imagine that it was not until they were penned that they were associated with dirtiness and laziness. How long insults such as ‘fat cow, ‘sow’ or ‘pig’, ‘eat like a pig’ and ‘pig out’ have existed, I remain uncertain.
During primary school and throughout high school, during the 1980s and 1990s, the female ideal did not seem to be based so much on skinny catwalk models as the Playboy or Barbie Girl aesthetic symbolised by Pamela Anderson. It was thin, blonde, tanned, with big boobs. Many of the girls at school bleached their hair, wore orange foundation and fake tan, lots of mascara and push-up bras. I didn’t adhere to this ideal. My first attempts to lose weight, at the age of thirteen, were driven more by the desire to evade bullying and to look like the thinner riding instructors at my riding school.
It was only when I started college that I started looking for ‘thinspiration’ to cultural idols. Again, these were not the thin female models from the catwalk. They were male figures from the eighties, rock and goth scene, such as David Bowie, Marilyn Manson and Richey Edwards, who sported an androgynous look. Looking back, this strikes me as odder than I remember, and leads me to the conclusion that I’m slightly gender fluid.
David Bowie – Ziggy StardustMarilyn Manson – Mechanical AnimalsRichey Edwards
At this time, I lost about three stone in six months, then continued to eat a restrictive diet, but yo-yoed up and down for a number of years due to binge eating and binge drinking, until I managed to get the binge eating under control. As my eating disorder shifted entirely into mild anorexia, I became underweight.
Androgyny suited my body because I’m naturally a rectangle shape with small breasts, not much of a waist, narrow hips and longish legs. I found that, when I gained weight mainly due to binge drinking, fat gathered around my stomach and on my face, making me look like a round-faced barrel on legs. When I lost weight again, I emulated a thin runner’s ideal. At present, at my ideal weight, eating healthily and strength training, my figure is more athletic and remains boyish.
Goth period prior to being underweightHigher end of normal weightIdeal weight
As a gym-goer I could say a lot about the religion of shape and size in gyms. In the 2010s, following the 2012 Olympics, the ‘strong not skinny’ movement formed a shift away from thinness towards strength and athleticism. This values function over form, body diversity, and mental strength. It celebrates a number of body shapes such as ‘toned’, ‘fit’ and ‘built’. Yet, ‘thick toned hour-glass figures’ for women, with narrow waists and well-developed glutes and thighs, have become the new ideal. This is something I certainly can’t achieve.
The ‘strong not skinny’ movement has been subject to critique due to its exclusion of thin people and replacing one unrealistic standard, thinness, with another, fitness, when the latter is difficult to attain for people with busy lives. It has also been seen as promoting restrictive dieting and excessive exercise.
Personally, I’ve found it’s helped me shift from being thin to being stronger and healthier. When I go to the gym, I don’t feel pressured to fit into any ideal. What I love about my gym is that there are bodies of all shapes, sizes and colours there, together, working out, without criticism or judgement.
A Better Religion
In Goodbye Ed, Hello Me, (ED stands for eating disorder), Jenni Schaefer writes about how she did not manage to recover from her eating disorder fully until she found God. ‘I now know that a complete, full life for me means not only saying good-bye to Ed but also saying hello to God. I don’t think I would ever have been able to fully love myself without letting God into my life. First I let others love me, then God, and finally I was able to love myself.’
Similarly, finding my religion, Brythonic polytheism, and developing a loving relationship with my patron God, Vindos / Gwyn ap Nudd, has helped me to recover from my eating disorder and from alcohol dependency.
As I have served Him through my writing and shamanic work, Gwyn has made it increasingly clear that I need my body to be a strong vessel for inspiration from Him and my spirits. I need to be in good to health for Them and my clients. This means neither binge eating or drinking, nor restricting, nor exercising excessively. The latter is the hardest because I’ve got a hyper-active nervous system and exercise is my most effective form of stress relief. I also really enjoy it and, if I’m having a good day, I can get carried away. If I do over-exercise, I try to do my best to eat something to make up for it.
Conclusion – A Body in Service
It’s said that one of the keys to recovering from an eating disorder is shifting from how one’s body looks to what one’s body can do. I’m certainly at my happiest and have the least eating disorder thoughts when I’m immersed in something I love, whether that’s working out at the gym, writing, praying, meditating, doing shamanic work or going for a walk in my local area. This is all good so long as it’s done from a desire to serve my Gods and not to get thin, burn calories, restrict my appetites, or take my stress out on my body.
A question I keep coming back to is: ‘Who am I serving? My Gods or the ED?’
Each time I notch up a score for my Gods, I feel closer to full recovery.
The Sanctuary of Vindos 