
Twelve people lie on the floor, one drums, and afterwards everyone tells whom they met. That's exactly where it goes wrong. Not with the drumming. With the interpreting.
Vision ritual. Indoors, lying down, all year round. The faster beat calls you back.
A drum journey is a guided practice. An even drumbeat helps you move your awareness deliberately. You lie down, cover your eyes, picture an entrance: a cave, a tree, a spring.
The drum takes you there. A faster beat brings you back. What you see belongs to you. And so does the interpretation.
The drum makes the journey, not the leader. Even, about four beats a second, fifteen to twenty minutes. Then the beat gets faster. That's the callback, and you come, whether you're done or not.
The drum journey is the most common way into shamanic work. Almost everyone starts with it, me too. And at the same time it's the practice where the most goes wrong, not during the journey, but afterwards.
The sequence is almost always the same. You lie down, cover your eyes, picture an entrance. The drum beats evenly, four to seven beats a second or so, and after a minute you stop counting them. Then you're on your way. Ten to twenty minutes. Some see landscapes and animals, some a single image, some nothing at all. Then the beat gets fast, that's the callback, and you come back.
And then comes the round. Everyone tells what they saw. And honestly, this is where everything is decided. Because now someone starts interpreting. Your bear means this, your seeing nothing means that. That's the moment you have to watch out. What you saw belongs to you. So does the interpretation.
Keep the image. Give back the interpretation.
The forms differ, the sequence is almost always the same. If you know what's coming, you can take care of what matters.
Short and once. Lie down, eyes closed, picture the entrance, go in. Expect nothing. Whatever comes, comes. Whoever explains for longer than five minutes is talking you into the journey.
Even. Not fast, not slow. After a minute you stop counting, and that's the moment it starts.
Ten to twenty minutes. Landscapes, animals, an image, or nothing. Any of it is a journey. I didn't see much on my first one either.
The beat gets fast, like a call. From outside you can see who was really away: the feet come back before the rest does.
Everyone tells. And here it gets tricky. Because now interpretations get handed out that nobody ordered.

Keep the image. Give back the interpretation.
Three for the person leading, one for you. A sentence is an answer, ten minutes aren't.
A sentence is an answer. Ten minutes aren't.
The five questions that apply to any leader have their own page: Look closely. Ask.
Write down what you saw. As precisely as possible, and leave the meaning open for now. Images from a journey keep working, often for days, and sometimes only make sense after weeks. Whatever you explain straight away, you stop seeing.
And if someone in the round gave you an interpretation: check calmly whether it's yours. It doesn't have to be. Usually it isn't.
A ritual is done when it's needed.
Around a hundred workshops with different teachers, many years as a student of two indigenous shamans in North America and Mongolia and of a teacher in the Moroccan desert. He has guided around two thousand people through rituals, safely in and safely back out.
Only what he knows from the inside himself is written here. What he hasn't done isn't here.
My intention with these pages: I share my knowledge so you can find the difference yourself. Between shamanic bullshit and something truly special.
In mentoring you practise exactly that for six months: knowing where you are, seeing what is there, and holding your own direction. Even when someone else in the room has the drum.
See the mentoring