Beginning
After The End
Five
days after the performance of the Shaman Mother story I woke up thinking about
the three shaman workshops I have gone to. I thought about how the telling of
the Shaman Mother story was at least equivalent to being at those workshops in
terms of an experience of shaman reality. Perhaps even telling it may
be superior to being at the workshops.
What
follows is the documentation, in present time, of my preparation and
performance of the Shaman Mother story.
Come
follow me in my journey toward a deep personal experience of shaman reality.
I Prepare …
1.
I
find a National Geographic story of Shaman Mother’s tribe, the Reindeer
Chukchee. The article has pictures of her people and text about the importance
of the reindeer to her people. I also find pictures of an ancient burial. A
horse is being buried to be with the dead person in the land of the dead. Both
these elements are part of Shaman Mother’s story.
2.
I
research clothing worn by Reindeer Chukchee woman. It happens that I have
elements of this clothing. I set these aside for the costume.
3.
I
rewrite Shaman Mother’s story twice. I choose, discard and add what feels right
for my telling of the story.
4.
I
learn the story as I have written it.
I Rehearse …
I am teaching storytelling and have other storytelling commitments.
So I have no time to rehearse in costume until the afternoon before the
performance.
I rehearse once. I decide to use the drum when Shaman
Mother uses the drum in the story.
I Perform …
I show the audience the pictures I found of the Reindeer
Chukchee and the ancient burial of the horse. I read aloud text on the role of
the shaman in his or her society. I want the audience as embedded into the
world of Shaman Mother as I will be when I transform into her through my use of
mask and drum.
Then I have one of my storytelling students drum the
heart beat while I change behind a screen. I come out as Shaman Mother. In her
clothing. In her face. In her fur head dress. In her boots. I begin to speak
her story.
The litany of Shaman Mother’s words pours out of me.
Some Of The
Litany Of Shaman Mother’s Words
“I know from his words that my son is dead.”
“A great wail rises from my throat.”
“Let me rest, I say.”
“Rest?” says my husband. “You are a shaman. You have no
need of rest. Do something!”
“I beat my drum and go to the land of the dead. But I cannot
find my son’s soul body.”
“I tell my husband to slaughter one of the reindeer teams
so that I can travel on them in the land of the dead.”
“Then I drum and travel on the reindeer team.”
“I find my son’s soul body. It is in the house of a
female monster. She has trapped him.”
“I free my son and take him with me.”
“The female monster comes after us. She says, ‘I will
break your bones and swallow both of you.’”
“My brave son says, “Mother let me fall and she will come
after me and you will be safe.”
“No!” I say. “If we die, we die together.”
“The sky is blood red. My animal allies have killed the
female monster. I go back to my village and begin to drum over my son’s body.”
“When his body is restored, I snatch his soul and place
it in his body.”
“‘Wake up! Wake up!’” I say. “You have slept long enough.”
“My boy wakes, alive and well.”
“I embrace him and I tell him how proud I was of his
courage against the female monster.”
“I am tired. Now I go to sleep.”
The End …
I leave the performance
area.
I remove the costume and
the mask.
I become Rita again.
______________________
How I Felt
During The Telling Of Shaman Mother’s Story
Five days after the
performance, I wrote in the present tense, the following words. It is as I
remember it.
The words of the story are like a river I ride on. I
travel down it.
When I come to the word ‘diver’ I remember that I had
wanted to explain this word to the audience and that I had forgotten to do so. So
I added the explanation, saying “diver - a water bird who dives under the water”.
The word ‘diver’ was like a stone in the river of words.
I allow the river of words to flow through me. I accept
the feeling of these words.
Not my words but the real Shaman Mother’s Words.
That is the important part
of the experience. That She/I feel the words.
She/I feel desperate and tired when I say “A great wail
rises from my throat.”
She/I feel determination and sorrow when “I beat my drum
and go to the land of the dead to find my son’s soul body.”
And most of all. Best of all
...
She/I feel strength and rightness when I say “No! If we
die, we die together.”
And finally, when She/I bring the boy back to life and
praise him for his courage in the face of the monster.
She/I feel love and caring and pride in knowing this son.
For me, Shaman Mother was a real woman and a real
shaman. Shaman reality was her real
existence. So becoming her, through mask, made shaman reality my real
existence. Whatever she felt in the two worlds she traveled in, I felt too.
These feelings were so powerful that they will never ever
leave me. My experience of her realities - the world of the living and the
world of the dead - were so powerful, that they will never ever leave me.
The power of mask is to enter another world and to bring part
of it back with you.
______________________
Rita Grimaldi is a founding member of Peterborough Storytellers.
Rita welcomes your comments on this posting
and her many other articles posted here on 'Tales and Tips'
and her many other articles posted here on 'Tales and Tips'
about the art of preparing and performing in mask.
Rita's contact information is:
peterboroughstorytellers@cogeco.ca
