Soul Loss – The Sanctuary of Vindos

Soul retrieval is a central practice within core shamanism. It was (re)introduced to the West by Michael Harner in the 1970s following his study and practice with indigenous shamans around the world.

From a shamanic perspective, one of the main causes of illness is soul loss. This occurs in moments of trauma wherein the pain is so great a part of the soul departs from the body in order to preserve the intregrity of the whole. Soul loss can occur as a result of major trauma such as accidents, near-death experiences, war-time experiences, abuse and neglect. It can also be brought about by ongoing traumas such as bullying and being trapped in a controlling relationship. What constitutes trauma for one person might be different for the next. We can also, consciously or unconsciously, send soul parts away in order to fit in with family, friends, or the demands of society. These are often child parts, sensitive parts, or wild parts that do not cohere with social norms.

Within a shamanic context the soul parts can depart to various places. They can remain stuck at the site of the trauma here in the Middle World or take flight to a favourite place where they feel safe. They can also go to the Upper World or the Lower World. It is common to find they are looked after by guides or ancestors or protected by guardians.

The technique for bringing these missing soul parts back is called soul retrieval. It is possible for spontaneous soul retrieval to happen – for soul parts to come back on their own – and for a person to be able to find or call back their own soul parts. However, most often, because a person has sent their soul parts away and they no longer trust them or believe being with them is safe, it takes the skill of a shamanic practitioner to bring them back.

In a soul retrieval the practitioner journeys into the spirit realm with their guides to find the lost soul part. Negotiations with the protectors and with the soul part itself are usually needed to persuade it to come back. Soul parts will rarely return if the client is in the same conditions as when they left – for example trapped in abusive relationship or in an intolerable job. The soul parts frequently ask that the client make life changes to accomodate them (if they have not already done so) and might also ask that they make room for their needs – such as time for play or for spirituality or creativity. They might also ask for ritual acts such as the client eat their favourite food on a particular day, wear their favourite clothes, or do a favourite activity. Once the negotiations have been completed the soul parts sometimes need healing. After this, the practitioner returns and blows the soul part into the client’s body (usually a chakra) then rattles around to seal them in. The journey is then discussed with the client and they are advised on integration.

The main symptom of soul loss is feeling like you are not all here or a part of you is missing. Other symptoms include lost or fragmented memories and recurring dreams. Often, talking therapies fail to work because they are not addressing the parts that are missing. This fits with what, today, we call PTSD. In fact, the concepts of soul retrieval and soul loss fit very well with contemporary findings in neuroscience which demonstrates that trauma causes certain parts of our brain to go offline (causing parts of ourselves to disappear). Also, with psychotherapy, particularly Internal Family Systems, wherein protector parts are negotiated with and exiled parts integrated back into the whole. Following soul retrieval it is common for a person to feel more grounded and whole, for memories to return, and recurring dreams to ease.

Like most people I’ve experienced a fair amount of trauma. I’m autistic and was bullied throughout school and have also been bullied in the workplace. As a result I was often disassociated and retreated into fantasy to escape. I also depended on alcohol to self-medicate my anxiety for most of my life. Having a soul retrieval with my mentor and retrieving a soul part from one of my past lives have helped me to be happier and more present in the world.

My patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd, gathers the souls of the dead in the Brythonic tradition. He played a role in my soul retrieval, guiding my mentor to one of my lost soul parts and bringing it back to me. This experience was very emotional. Afterwards I realised that gathering lost soul parts was also His role. From thereon I knew soul retrieval was to be an important part of my work.

For my training towards becoming a shamanic practitioner I completed ten case studies. Soul retrieval proved popular because so many people relate to the concept of soul loss and recognise they are suffering from it. Finding and returning lost soul parts has been challenging but beautiful and inspiriting work and a fulfilment of service to both my clients and my God.

At first I was anxious about doing this healing for a couple of reasons. Firstly, there was the fear that I’d be completely useless at it and unable to find the soul parts. This was assuaged a little when one of my crow guides joked that I’d find it easier finding the soul parts than the people they belonged to.

Secondly, I was nervous about interacting with other people on such a deep level as an autistic person with social anxiety who has little experience of interpersonal relationships. Would I be able to show adequate care and kindness towards my clients and the lost and wounded parts of their souls? To make the shift from being an anxious and defensive person who has survived in a neurotypical world by masking to being more open-hearted I had to put a lot of trust in Gwyn and my guides and the people I was working with. Following my prayers I was able to drop down from the chatter in my head to working on a more intuitive and heart-centred level. This enabled me to interact with clients empathetically face-to-face and during the journeys. Not only that, on many occasions, I shared their emotions – both joy and sorrow, and even ended up hugging a couple of people afterwards (I never hug!).

During the healings I recovered soul parts from various places. Some remained at the site of trauma in the Middle World often within urban landscapes. Others had chosen to remain in or had fled to familiar places Middle World such as family homes, woodlands and beaches. A couple had escaped to fairytale landscapes in the Upper World. Some had gone to or were stuck in the Lower World – being submerged in underwater places or trapped in underground tunnels were common themes. Some of the soul parts had otherworldly guardians. Others had been looked after by ancestors, animal spirits, or favourite pets who had passed over.

The soul parts varied in age and appearance. Many were child parts. I was surprised to find a foetal part. I’d come across very young and baby parts but had been unaware that parts could leave whilst in the womb. I was equally surprised by the appearance of an elderly part. I hadn’t realised we contained or could lose parts older than our current age but this made sense within the context of the soul containing all our possibilities within it. Whilst most appeared as human some at first appeared as objects or essences.

In order to return, some of the soul parts simply wanted loving and nurturing. Others asked the clients to make room for emotions such as fear and joy. In some instances specific rituals were given which helped with the integration.

I didn’t have any problems journeying and so far have not returned without any soul parts. Contrarily, after discussing the healings with my mentor, in a couple of cases I feel I might have been overtrying, pushing too hard to find the soul parts, rather than letting the journeys unfold at a slower pace and allowing for distractions that might provide other revelations about a client’s problems.

Another thing I noticed was my reactions to the feedback (provided a month later). I was really attached to my clients providing positive comments and assuring me that all the classical effects of a soul retrieval had been felt. In a couple of instances life stresses had got in the way or clients had felt less certain about whether the soul parts had returned making me feel I’d failed.

When I spoke to my mentor about this she reminded me that spirit does not follow the Western model of cause and effect. Shamanic healing isn’t linear. When we’re working with spirit / energy / the web of life, if we change or unpick something in one place it will alter something elsewhere in space and time but it might not be the thing we expect. Also, it is common for clients to have ups and downs and for the healing work to bring up issues that need to arise and to be integrated and processed. These issues of having certain expectations and being attached to results are something I need to work with.

Overall I felt the soul retrievals were a success. On all occasions my clients had powerful and moving experiences and experieced the return of soul parts. In my feedbacks it was repeated that they felt safe and comfortable working with me, that they were listened to, that I was calm and… patient. I still have alot to learn but my foundational training in soul retrieval is complete and I’m looking forward to further developing my skills with this practice.

I am now offering soul retrieval at a student rate of £30 for a 2 hour session (1/2 hour online interview and 1 1/2 hour healing online or in-person for local people).

It’s the last day of March. It has been a week since the lockdown to contain coronavirus began in the UK. I wake at 4am, as has become my habit, and lie awake with my mind running through all the things I need to do and all the worries that it is useless to worry about and then I beat myself up for worrying about them. By 5.30am I’ve had enough and decide to get up and do something useful.

Breakfast, my morning prayers to my gods and the spirits of place, my daily too often failed attempt to sit and breathe and listen. Then I fire up my laptop, open Firefox, and click on the link to gmail. ‘This webpage is unavailable’. Agh. How the hell am I going to send my patron newsletters? Now my conservation internship has been cancelled until who knows when I have no route into paid work and my Patreon account is my only source of income. My heart’s racing and I can’t breathe as I check the modem (green lights on) and my network connection (fine) then turn the machine on and off.

Thankfully it starts working. I can breathe again. And now I’m looking back at my reaction. What the fuck? How, in the space of a few days, have I gone from being happy in a role that involves making positive changes out in nature alongside likeminded people – building a hibernaculum for newts, planting wildflowers, installing an outdoor classroom – to being completely dependent on something as ineffable and fallible as the internet not only for money but for a place in society?

Over the past few days I have been reflecting on how much of my identity and reason for being have become bound up with this blog, which provides a platform for my voice as an awenydd in service to Gwyn and the gods and spirits of my landscape and my online communities, as well as for book sales.

Its small successes have partly been down to my use of social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter. Over the past few years the former, in particular, has had a massively detrimental effect on my mental health. For me it’s the virtual equivalent of walking into a large, noisy crowd in a magical castle that has no walls but the multiplicity of glass screens that grant us access and contain us.

Attempting to find friends and acquaintances at some illusory fairy feast where the food looks its tastiest but cannot be touched and interacting only with their reflections in their best party gear. Like the speechless dead their mouths do not move and their facial expressions do not change one bit.

Yet words appear on the page and conversations take place, stuttering, dragging on for days, as people blink in and out of existence, moving between the worlds, like ghosts. Being able to flit in and out of the crowd, of groups, creates a perennial nosiness. It takes up an incredible amount of headspace trying to keep up, to find the right answers, to argue against points of disagreement, to read responses in the absence of real faces. When I get offline a part of me remains in the glass castle, a shadow of myself arguing with shades of my own imagining, exhausted, distracted, lost.

I recognise this. But it’s only when coronavirus hits and so many people are forced online for work and to communicate due to the social distancing rules I realise just how powerful the internet has become. To the point we can neither earn a living nor live without it. The web has made it possible for us to work and meet without travelling (which is also greener) and set up groups for mutual support. I admit these are very good things yet something within me is screaming a warning about the surrender of our power to the invisible rulers of the halls of the internet on their glass thrones.

I make the decision to leave Facebook. It’s hard. I know the costs. I will lose contact with people, I will miss events, I will be giving up opportunities for publicity. Less people will see my blog posts and buy my books. These are the teeth, like a monster of Annwn, it has sunk into me. These are the tendrils of dependency that the beast beneath the glass castle has coiled around me, extending from my virtual being to my well being in Thisworld. It hurts when I pull them off, although there is no blood.

I return to Peneverdant, to the green hill in this virtual space between Thisworld and Annwn. I look back at the times I’ve been lost in the ether of pointless arguments and at the good it’s done. Through it I’ve helped real people connect with real lands and real gods and put real books in their hands. But at the cost of the loss of a piece myself, the surrender of part of my identity, to the glass castle.

Looking forward, to the promised ‘when this is all over’, I realise, if I survive, I no longer want to be ruled by the web. I want to walk again amongst the people of Thisworld and Annwn. To put down firmer roots in my land and my community – I determine that I will carry on volunteering for the Wildlife Trust whether it leads to paid work or not and put my name on the waiting list for an allotment. I will continue my service of blogging here but I will not let it rule or define me.

I whistle to that lost piece of my soul and pray to my god, Gwyn ap Nudd, to guide it back to his glass castle in Annwn where our souls are reunited and the dance of the dead reconciles illusion and truth.

Only once this process is complete do I feel ready to face the scary now this piece self-indulgently avoids. The escalating infections, the escalating deaths, of course relayed in figures and graphs by the internet. The rising numbers worldwide, across the UK, here in Lancashire. I see people are infected in Liverpool, Salford, Bolton, Wigan, Chorley, Blackpool, dying in the Royal Lancaster Infirmary.

That soon it will be here in South Ribble and Preston. That people will be fighting for their lives and dying in the Royal Preston Hospital, where the day centre has been allocated to coronavirus patients. I fear for my elderly parents, friends who are old or have health problems, know I’m not immune.

I’m asked to provide a pagan perspective on faith requirements in relation to excess deaths as a result of COVID-19 for the Lancashire Resilience Forum (Lancashire County Council’s emergency planning service). A small useful thing I can do. I revive my Microsoft laptop to attend a Skype meeting.

Right now there is no avoiding using the halls of the internet’s glass castle to bring about physical changes. All over the world fellowships are founded with people we may or may not see on the otherside. I walk these spaces more mindfully, my eyes on the goal, not allowing myself to get lost. I pray that one day some of us will meet on the green hills of Thisworld and, if not, on the hills of Annwn.