The Seat of the Shaman

He was not sitting there when I arrived for the first time
I had heard about this place
Built by him as a child
For his long life
With vast gaze in the lake panorama

Here, he could see at all directions
And be in peace with himself and with the world

I walked alone to the place of his seat
I could hear the friendly laughing voices close by
And the community of likeminded friends
Both in real life, flesh, here, and now
And those unseen, close-by, ethereal, in eternity, always present

The sun was shining and there was a gentle breeze
I felt invited to step to the sacred zone
But I did not dare to sit at his seat
There was a guardian, a Keeper of the seat
You wouldn’t believe, how small one.
It was an ant
enjoyining his path across the seat
And it was not to be removed
From a sacred place

As you never know
in these places
Things are not as they seem
And if you fail to respect
Even the tiniest form of life
How can you respect yourself?
So tiny in the cosmos itself?
And if you don’t really know
what that tiny one could be?
Maybe something much more greater
than an microscopic form of life?
A great jewel of life?
Maybe the shaman himself
If not the guardian of his seat?

So I looked around
To share this moment with you
That these kind of places exist
As they have always existed
The spirits of the Great Shamans are still Here
and their seats are made of ancient stones
Often built as children
And kept coming back as the child is maturing
Never forgetting the seat
The spirit of the lake
The guardian of the forest
The big holy ones
In the vastness of the sky
And the little friendly ants
Crossing their way
To become what they are supposed to become
Just themselves
You
Me
Every one

…Take your seat now
And remember to have fun!

*

Thank you for being here with us
And committing to this love

*

Photos and video are from a real seat of a shaman from North Karelia, Finland. Poem and pictures by Helena Karhu (2022).