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The Shamanic Way of the Bee: Ancient Wisdom and Healing Practices of the Bee Masters - Hardcover

Buxton, Simon

 
9780892811489: The Shamanic Way of the Bee: Ancient Wisdom and Healing Practices of the Bee Masters

Inhaltsangabe

Reveals for the first time the ancient tradition of bee shamanism and its secret practices and teachings

• Examines the healing and ceremonial powers of the honeybee and the hive

• Reveals bee shamanism’s system of acupuncture, which predates the Chinese systems

• Imparts teachings from the female tradition and explores the transformative powers of the magico-sexual elixirs they produce

Bee shamanism may well be the most ancient and enigmatic branch of shamanism, yet it exists throughout the world--wherever in fact the honeybee exists. Its medicinal tools are now in common usage--such as honey, pollen, propolis, and royal jelly--and even the origins of Chinese acupuncture can be traced back to the ancient practice of applying bee stings to the body’s meridians.

In this authoritative ethnography and spiritual memoir, Simon Buxton--an elder of the Path of Pollen--reveals for the first time the richness of this tradition: its subtle intelligence; its sights, sounds, and smells; and its unique ceremonies, which until now have been known only to initiates. Buxton’s footsteps were first put on the Path of Pollen at age nine when an Austrian bee shaman cured him of a near fatal bout of encephalitits. This early contact prepared him for his later meeting with an elder of the tradition who took him on as an apprentice. Following an intense initiation that opened him to the mysteries of the hive mind, the author learned over the next 13 years the practices, rituals, and tools of bee shamanism. He experienced the healing and spiritual powers of honey and other bee products, including the flying ointment used by medieval witches, as well as ritual initiations with the female members of the tradition--the Mellisae--and the application of magico-sexual “nectars” that promote longevity and ecstasy. The Shamanic Way of the Bee is a rare view into the secret wisdom of this age-old tradition.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Simon Buxton, author of The Shamanic Way of the Bee, is the founder/director of The Sacred Trust in England, dedicated to the teaching of practical shamanism for the modern world. He is also the co-author of Darkness Visible. He teaches Darkness Visible workshops internationally and lives in England.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

SHAMANISM / PERSONAL GROWTH

A fascinating story of one man's journey into the shamanic realm and ancient wisdom.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer, author of The Invitation

An exquisitely written, powerful, and important book. It reveals for the first time a European form of shamanism and healing magic that arises lucidly and sweetly from the natural world immediately around us--the extraordinary details of which we so often overlook.
Brooke Medicine Eagle, author of Buffalo Woman Comes Singing

We search the exotic and distant for transformative secrets, well-being and healing. But are we perceptive enough to receive the gifts from the humblest of our own gardens? No matter. Simon Buxton has walked this path, from the primordial to the present, and freely grants us the exquisite treasures contained within The Shamanic Way of the Bee.
S. R. Harrop, chairman of the department of anthropology, University of Kent, England

Written in a beautiful, lyrical and poetic way, with personal vignettes, anecdotes, and sacred teachings which, in a way, are reminiscent of the Sufi tradition but with the hard edge of realism characteristic of the Keltic Way--the Way of the Hero. This book is an absolute must-have addition to any serious collection of shamanic wisdom.
Sacred Hoop magazine

Bee shamanism may well be the most ancient and enigmatic form of shamanism, existing throughout the world wherever the honeybee is found. Its medicinal tools--such as honey, pollen, propolis, and royal jelly--are now in common use, and even the origins of Chinese acupuncture may be traced to the ancient practice of applying bee stings to the body's meridians.

In this authoritative account, Simon Buxton, an elder of the Path of Pollen, reveals for the first time the richness of this tradition: its subtle intelligence; its sights, sounds, and smells; and its unique ceremonies, which until now have been known only to initiates. Buxton unknowingly took his first steps on the Path of Pollen at age nine, when an Austrian bee shaman cured him of a near-fatal bout of encephalitis. This early contact prepared him for a later meeting with an elder of the tradition who took him on as an apprentice. Following an intense initiation that opened him to the mysteries of the hive mind, the author learned the practices, rituals, and tools of bee shamanism. He experienced the healing and spiritual powers of honey, pollen, and other bee products, including a flying ointment used by medieval witches, as well as ritual initiations with the female members of the tradition--the Melissae--and the application of psycho-sexual nektars that promote longevity and ecstasy. The Shamanic Way of the Bee is a rare view into the secret wisdom of this age-old tradition.

SIMON BUXTON is a beekeeper, the British faculty for Dr. Michael Harner's Foundation for Shamanic Studies, and the founder/ director of The Sacred Trust, a U.K.-based educational organization dedicated to the teaching of practical shamanism for the modern world. He lives in England and teaches internationally

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From Chapter One:

Last Night, As I Was Sleeping

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt--marvellous error!--
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey from my past mistakes.

--Antonio Machado

No clear sounds. Just the distant white noise hum of blood in my ears, a signal of sorts that I am still alive, at least. Sometimes, the sense of a song. No vision and no images coming in from the outside world. Just me, alone here, small and frightened, lost in a snowstorm of white light against the black sky of my eyelids.

I don’t know how long I have been here. I am nine years old and I have been in and out of this for days. Only years later will I come to know the name we give to this condition; encephalitis, a virus which attacks the brain. For now, the names and labels are meaningless. All I know is darkness. Nothing moves.

And then, something. A face I think I recognise. An old man who smiles at me as I drift here in the dreamscape, crying the silent, fearful tears of a small boy standing at the edge of a vast drop into the abyss of death. “Nothing to be afraid of, little one,” he says. The words are spoken in German. He takes my hand. Together, we leap into the abyss.

We never land, though. I open my eyes and look into his. They are no longer those of a human being. I am looking into eyes comprised of 26,000 magnificent hexagonal lenses, each one of them able to see deep into my soul. They are the eyes of a bee. And we are flying.

Effortlessly, we arrive at the other side of the abyss and gently float to the earth. I look into those eyes again, and now they are human. They are eyes I recognise, the eyes of a friend. They are the eyes of Herr Professor.

He looks at me and smiles. Kleine bubbe, ales gehst gut. Habst keine angst, he whispers. “Little one, all is well now. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Two days after this “dream,” I am fully conscious and well enough to eat. A week later, I am out of bed and back to being a life-filled little boy.

And so, I decide to visit my friend Herr Professor, after so long away from him. I walk through the woods which separate our two isolated houses, past the beehives he keeps in his garden, up to the dark wood door. Before I can even knock, the door is opened and Herr Professor stands smiling down at me.

“Ah, little one,” he says. “How lovely to see you. There, I told you there was nothing to be afraid of.”

I had met Herr Professor two years before this, when my family had moved from the north of England, to the forests of Vienna Austria. His was the only other house within a mile of our property, if you could call it a house. It was more a marriage between a wooden Tyrollean chalet and a jungle hut. It stood in its forest home, shrouded in creeping undergrowth that he maintained with precise care so that it remained as wild as possible, cultivated to the minimum. He was always a part of his surroundings rather than a master of them. He preferred it that way.

I had first met Herr Professor when my parents had befriended him after we moved into our home. Recognising him as a learned man, they had asked if he would teach me the German language. He had been happy to agree, though in reality we studied little German. Instead, we had adventures together where we would explore the wild forest places of this strange new territory. Or he would allow me to play the many drums he had at his home; huge flat drums from strange-sounding faraway places like Tuva and Lapland. Sometimes, too, he would hold me spellbound with stories of his adventures in the real jungles of Mexico and Peru, illustrating his talk of jaguars and snakes and dug-out canoes, ecstatic rituals and full-moon rites with the exotic curios and “objects of power” he had returned with: spears and shields, stones and vines and, most fascinating to me, a shrunken head brought back from a mysterious Amazonian tribe.

We became immediate friends. In the isolation of the woods, I was glad to have someone to talk to and take walks with. This wise man shared with me his knowledge of both the woods and the world, and exposed the richness of the strange gifts contained therein. Having lived in solitude for so long, the exuberance of youth was a joy to Herr Professor, and my company delivered a source of gentle amusement.

Of course, then I did not know him as Herr Professor (though I always referred to him by this title); I knew him more than anything as a friend. It was later that I learned his “true” identity. He had been a university professor, an extremely well respected man who had lectured to thousands of students for nearly half a century, as well as travelling the world in search of a personal truth. His travels had taken him to the five inhabited continents and the furthest corners of the world. He had lived with indigenous peoples, becoming one with their simple lifestyles until objective scientific study had given way to personal belief and immense respect as he had watched the shamans and wise men and women of these tribes perform their daily miracles which defied the laws of the Western science he had been educated in.

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