timboucher

My First Santeria Reading

I am at a crossroads. Personally, professionally, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. My life seems to be turning rapidly around an invisible pivot point - threatening at times to unbalance me entirely. It is only through brute force (and good old-fashioned hard-headedness) that I have managed to stay in the saddle these past six months.

The gory details of the whole thing are not especially pertinent to the casual reader, and could be easily interchanged with anyone else’s personal trials and turmoil. But for the purposes of narrative continuity, I will at least reveal that it has involved a (very) long-distance relationship and the attempts of two people to define, and re-define, their own identities and their lives together.

I went back to the East Coast in order to have a spiritual experience. Or, if nothing else, to sort my life out by revisiting things I’d lost and gained along the way, by spending time with the people who have shaped me up to this point. In the past, I have left my spiritual experiences up to chance, letting them find me where and when they would. More often than not, this has meant a lot of waiting around and wondering why the hell life seemed to be passing me by. Spurred on by the need for some kind of resolution at this point in my life though, and by the hope of achieving some kind of clarity, I decided this time to take matters into my own hands. I decided to consult a professional.

I didn’t exactly know what I was doing. How do you choose someone to help push you across the threshold you’ve been lingering on for so long? For me, I did it the way I do most things nowadays: I used Google.

Over the past year, one of the viewpoints which has most radically transformed the way I view spirituality has been that of the African Traditional Religions (ATR), such as Santeria, Voodoo, Candomble, Palo Mayombe and many others. At the risk of being overly broad, these are a loosely connected group of spiritual traditions born in Western and Central Africa, transmitted to the New World courtesy of the slave trade, and syncretically fused with Catholic myth and tradition.

Through on-going conversations with a friend involved in one of these traditions, I have successfully dismantled a great deal of fear and negative attitudes towards these religions which I inherited as a result of my rather more orthodox Catholic upbringing. It has been a slow process of opening myself up to the simple everyday realness of the spirit world, as practiced in the ATRs. But it has been very rewarding and I know there is still a long way to go.

So, it was with a sort of academic understanding and appreciation of the whole thing that I began searching online for a practitioner of an African Traditional Religion who lived in or near Baltimore - where I would be staying for a week. I initially began my search online for a Babalawo in the Baltimore region. A Babalawo, as I understand it, is a priest specifically of the Orisha Orunmila, and uses a complex divination system called the Table of Ifa to see through past, present and future. That search in turn lead me to the website of a santero (the term for a priest of Santeria), named Eric Lerner, who practiced a different, but equally intriguing, form of African divination called Dilogun.

Dilogun uses sixteen cowrie shells thrown onto a mat which provide numerical keys associated with proverbs and myths relevant to the spiritual situation of the querent. On his website, Lerner explained that he didn’t like to do Dilogun readings for people not officially initiated into Santeria, because he believes these shells speak with the voices of the Orishas and of the ancestors (unlike the tarot which he sees as more personally interpretive). He believes that their commands must be respected and “paid for” through the appropriate offerings and prayers. It’s a viewpoint that I respected because of how seriously he himself took it. He obviously didn’t believe that these readings were to be done simply for fun or to experiment casually with at a party.

I decided to email him, hoping he’d make an exception and do a reading for me. We spoke on the phone several days later, at which point he was kind enough to explain in some detail what happens in a reading, while still being discouraging enough to try and dissuade me if I wasn’t going to take the whole thing seriously enough. I convinced him that I was though and we scheduled an appointment for a couple days later. I spent those two days wondering anxiously what would happen, what the shells would reveal for me. He’d said something about how it was a “spiritual agency” which would answer the questions for me and that it wouldn’t be coming from him. He even noted that there was a slim possibility that he may become possessed by an Orisha during the reading. It was a possibility that I found both tantalizing and terrifying. But above all, I wanted to know what fate, the gods and my ancestors had to tell me. Cause I’ve been having a devil of a time figuring it all out myself lately.

My best friend John accompanied me to the reading, which took place in an unassuming suburb of Baltimore. I brought John along both for emotional support and to act as a scribe, taking notes during the reading, so that I myself could focus on the actual experience of the whole thing. We arrived at Eric’s door and were greeted warmly by him and his two small dogs. Eric was dressed all in white and wearing the necklaces common to initiates of Santeria. He asked us to run to the corner store and pick up some cigars which he needed to perform the ritual. I brought back a 5-pack of White Owl Sports and we all sat down around his kitchen table to begin.

Spread out on the table was a straw mat with eight white lines drawn on it and a cross marked in cascarilla. Next to that sat a small head representing the Orisha Eleggua, trickster god of the crossroads, mediator between humans and the divine. Also on the table were a multi-colored seven-day candle, a bowl of water containing the sixteen cowrie shells, and two other implements shaped like small heads, one white and one brown which I would use later in the reading.

After giving us a basic overview of what would happen, the santero began the ritual. He started by sprinkling Florida Water (an old perfume which became popular as a tool in Santeria) on the mat, in order to “sweeten the reading.” He encouraged us to apply a little to ourselves as well. Then began a long prayer in the Yoruba language. One by one, he pulled the cowrie shells from the bowl, dowsing each one with water from the bowl, and calling down the blessings of the Orishas, of spirit guides, of our ancestors, of all those who have died, of priests both living and dead. The list went on and on rhythmically. I began to feel myself fall into the rhythm of it all, my head nodding slightly almost of its own accord. I felt the distinct sensation too of a heaviness pushing slightly but not uncomfortably down on the top of my head, perhaps the beginning of a trance.

He then took the shells and touched them to my feet, my knees, legs, stomach, shoulders and head – connecting them to me and my particular destiny and energy. Also mixed in there somewhere (I forget where chronologically) were offerings to Eleggua of rum sprayed from his mouth, a cigar smoked backwards so that the orisha could in effect taste it himself, and the $121 that I had been instructed to bring. I folded the money three times over, which was a sign for it to come back to me threefold. The santero kissed it, crossed himself with it and left it in Eleggua’s little dish. Thus began the ritual. The prayers and actions which we took to begin had put me into a very calm and focused state of mind, with no trace of fear or apprehension. I had chosen my santero wisely, it seemed. I trusted him completely.

The Dilogun consists of two main throws of the cowrie shells. Each of these is associated with a number, an odu, and a proverb. The first throw establishes the main theme and the second describes the variations of that theme. The first throw found a number of cowrie shells sitting face up, like little mouths smiling up from the mat. The name and number of that odu I am choosing to keep hidden from the public eye, as I understand that these things are intended to be private keys to the energy currently operating in my life. As much as I feel the desire to share my experiences fully with others, I also want to respect the tradition and the spirits invoked by it. In any event, after only the first throw, the reading was already making sense to me. The next throw brought another round of shells smiling up at us. Between the two throws, a compelling picture of my life was beginning to unfold. And I’ll share as much of it as I feel comfortable doing so here.

We then used the white and brown implements, the two heads to determine the source of the problem. I shook the two heads together in my hands and let them fall naturally one into each hand, which I then hid behind my back. The santero determined that I had a blockage of some sort and used one shell to run through a list of possible sources of that blockage. Depending on how the shell landed, it indicated that I reveal which head was in either my right hand or my left hand. Each head stood for either “yes” or “no” as an answer to his queries. Was the blockage a result of something in my own consciousness? I shook the heads and put them in my hands. No, it was not. Was it from an orisha? More shaking and a shell thrown. No, it was not. Was it from my ancestors? Yes, it was. What could that mean? I wondered. More shaking and throwing and it was determined that an orisha would speak on my behalf and that it would be Eleggua who would help me. My santero explained that Eleggua was the most common consultant for people new to this tradition. And finding myself at such a crossroads in my life, it only made sense that the lord of the crossroads would see me through it.

Based on these two throws, personal interpretation and apparent intervention by the “spiritual agency” of Eleggua, the santero provided me with roughly two hours of information about my past, current situation and what I needed to do next. It’s been a rarity in my life that even a close friend could lay things out for me in such concise and meaningful detail as he did, let alone a complete stranger, reading esoteric signs in something so simple as seashells!

He explained to me that I was allowing myself to be marginalized, that I was skirting the edges of many life situations when I should instead be firm and commanding, anchored in the center. Without knowing anything about my past or personal situation, the analysis was exactly accurate. Six months I spent in Seattle, subletting and staying with friends. A year and a half I spent in Pittsburgh, staying with my brother before that. Two months before that in Baltimore on a friend’s couch. A year before that in NYC in a giant loft with no rooms or privacy. I felt like I had gained a great deal in all my wandering, but that my nomadic lifestyle was taking its toll on my personal identity. Who was I? Where did I really belong? What should I really be doing? These questions plagued me night and day and had saw to the near ruin of a very intense and important romantic relationship.

He saw into that relationship too, explaining that I had for too long been letting other people influence me or outright manipulate me away from what I knew myself was right. I was allowing myself to be too much of an empty vessel. They didn’t do it maliciously, he explained. They were actually trying to help me, because they recognized this lack in me and were trying to fill it. But it had become stifling, painting me into the corner of an impossible situation from which I could see no way out. The way out, he explained, was by renewing my connection to the earth, by offering my fears and worries and problems down to its vastness. I had to only forgive myself for what had happened and the earth would support and protect me. But I needed to be strong and meet it halfway. He gave me some oddly specific advice about being careful not to step in holes, not to twist my ankle (especially if I was hiking in the woods - which was the first thing I did with friends when I arrived back in Seattle), and to engage in some kind of exercise regimen to strengthen my physical connection to the ground, as well as boost my self-image and esteem. Gardening, too, he recommended – which I’d long wanted to get into myself as well.

He told me that I could place a glass of water with drops of clove oil and a mirror in it by the front door, to reflect away the negative intentions and influences of others. I should also read about tricksters so I could gain a more immediate understanding of how people manipulate one another and how to diffuse and control those situations. He told me too that I needed to stop couch-surfing and get my own space, which would in turn enable me to become more firm and established. Same too goes for my career. He suggested that I needed to dream as big as possible and make solid decisions and moves to enact my vision. When I explained that I was a writer and otherwise officially unemployed at this point, he told me that I needed to focus on polishing the formal structure of my work, and that I needed to get my work published by other people in new places. He’s a writer himself and I told him that those were the exact two things I was working on right now.

Other pieces of his advice were also very specific, perhaps in a weirder way. I had to stay away from eating peanuts, he said. And watch out for food poisoning and stay away specifically from Thai restaurants. Don’t buy anything second hand for at least a month, because it might be stolen. Strangely enough, on the ride over, I had told John how I wanted to buy a used bike on Craigslist when I got back here. And I’d also asked my friend if he’d been to a Thai restaurant we passed. He said he hadn’t, as it upset his digestive system.

The santero also told me that I was under intense scrutiny right now, that people may not have the best intentions towards me and that I had to be careful in everything I did. Don’t let any of my bills lapse. Be extremely careful about entering into legal contracts. I should carry an image of San Ramone on my person. If a beggar approached me asking for money (especially if he was crippled, had sores or dogs with him), I should give him some, as he may be the Orisha Babalu Aiye come to check up on me in disguise. “God sometimes sends a spy,” he said. Also very intriguing to me, he said I had more traveling I needed to still do in my life, and that where I would ultimately make my home was a place I hadn’t even thought of before, and that I might need to cross an ocean to find it. He also instructed me on the creation of a mesa blanca, an altar set up to my ancestors with an odd number of glasses of water and offerings – as well as an altar set up specifically to Eleggua. I could put a coconut behind my front door, as Eleggua lives in the coconut and would watch over the threshold for me.

One of the most compelling pronouncements he made was that he believed that someone had passed away and that spirit, an egun, had an unhealthy attachment to me. They needed to be brought into the light and I needed to be cleansed of this influence, as it was interfering with me in my personal and romantic life. He prescribed a dry bath to alleviate this problem, the ingredients of which he determined during the course of several additional throws of a smaller sub-set of the shells. I was to gather together mixed dried beans, dry flowers, rosemary and sage, find a dark place indoors and remove all my clothes. I had to lay a purple cloth underneath me, kneel down and pray to God to help lift the negative influence from this egun who had attached themselves to me as I poured the mixed ingredients over my neck and back. Then I would gather it all up in the purple cloth, tie it off and place it in a construction site, preferably in a place where a new foundation was being laid. The symbolism there is obvious, of course, as the point was to help me build a new foundation in my own life. A few days later, I gathered up all the ingredients from around the neighborhood and followed his instructions as closely as possible. I found an old purple t-shirt from a benefit program at the Johns Hopkins Hospital entitled “Hearts on the Move” and pressed that into service as my purple cloth, depositing the finished product at a construction site location on the JHU campus.

Also through subsequent throws of the shells, the santero determined that he was to give me a fetish sacred to Eleggua. He gathered together pieces of dried coconut shells, roasted corn and a feather from a bird that had been “fed” (sacrificed) to Eleggua. I was to put these magically-infused items into a red bag along with an image of St. Anthony of Padua or Eleggua himself and keep them in my left front pocket. We got directions to an occult bookstore nearby where I found the bag and I’ve been carrying it in my left hip pocket ever since.

I realize it’s difficult to convey the enormity of this experience through simple description. And to the cynic and skeptic, a lot of it is going to sound like nonsense. Which is fine by me, because this experience was specifically tailored to me and it had the desired effect of pushing me forward on my spiritual journey by making concrete so many things I’d only ever read about or grappled with intellectually. Here instead were the implements and rituals laid out in front of me by someone who was extremely knowledge and serious about the whole thing. It was honestly a very welcome change from the typical airy debates, speculation and blase experimentation which I’ve so frequently encountered (and engaged in myself) in the realms of cyberspace. I realized in a very immediate way that spirit and magic weren’t things that you simply sat around thinking and talking about; they are things that you do, things that you are. It’s a small and probably obvious point that I had somehow missed (or simply been afraid of) for too long and which made all the difference in the world for me in re-tooling my point of view.

Here I am a week later, and I really do feel that everything is now different in my life. I have been invisibly transformed by this experience, as well as the larger and longer experience of travelling about the East Coast. I really do feel like I am on an escape vector from old patterns which have constrained me, and am laying a new foundation for myself, bringing myself more powerfully into the center of my life.

I have even experienced immediate effects on the subtle realm, one of which was a dream I’d like to share that I had the day after my reading. In it, I found myself in a darkened room with an old woman. I couldn’t recognize her but she seemed familiar. I helped her sit down and get an IV drip started for her as she watched soap operas. I then woke up – but only in my dream – to hear my friend John speaking with a strange mischievous child. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Tim caught the egun.” At that, I realized that the old woman was the spirit who’d attached itself to me, and who’d been interfering in my life. I called out, “John, say that again!” He repeated the word “Egun!” three times, after which I suddenly felt strong enough to stand up. I did so and said in a commanding voice, “Egun! Egun! Egun!” three times, at which point I felt the power of the negative spirit break and vanish and I woke up. I told John the story and remembered that I had fallen asleep asking my grandfather help me find and deal with this spirit, just as the santero had instructed me.

I realize now, I’m done debating whether or not spirits exist, or are simply psychological processes inside of us. I will leave such speculation to others who still need it to transform and heal their thinking and excuse myself hereafter to the realm of those who simply accept the spirit world as a reality, sometimes tangible, sometimes more subtle, but always intersecting with our lives everywhere we turn. And as I continue to feel my own life turning, I feel myself becoming stronger and more able to handle it. I feel myself becoming more grounded, more solid, more sure of myself and my path from this point out. I am sure I will find myself at other crossroads in life, maybe equally or more difficult than the one I have just passed through, but I know now that there are others traveling with me: gods and spirits and priests and fellow-travelers and the earth itself who are all there to help me, and who I am there to help. We all move forward, struggling – and celebrating – together.

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• Augmented Reality & The Memory Palace
• Santeria Reading Follow-Up
• The Chatter: Hearing Voices