26/05/2026
There is something I feel I need to say clearly because the word “Shaman” has become heavily misunderstood in the West.
I was born into a traditional shamanic lineage.
I did not fly to Peru or another under under-developed country, attend a plant medicine ceremony, pay someone in a struggling village to tell me I was a shaman or whatever my ego wanted to hear, then return home claiming a title I had not truly embodied or earned.
Shamanism for me was never a trend, a costume, a workshop certificate or a spiritual aesthetic.
It is blood.
It is lineage.
It is lived experience.
It is responsibility.
It is sacrifice.
It is spirit.
This path has lived in my veins since birth.
Ironically, when spirit first guided me to begin teaching shamanism in the West, I doubted myself deeply. I felt unworthy. So I sought out other “shamans” to learn from, hoping they would somehow confirm what spirit had already told me.
Very quickly I realised something difficult.
Most were not shamans.
Many had simply learned fragments of practices from tribal people, then brought those practices back to the West and built identities around them.
That is not the same thing as living a shamanic life from birth.
From the very beginning of my life, spirit demanded embodiment from me.
Before I was even born, I was pronounced dead in the womb by the midwife caring for my mother. Yet when I arrived, alive and healthy at 8.5lb, the missionary nun who delivered me called me a miracle because there were three true knots in the umbilical cord. No oxygen should have been reaching me.
Yet spirit had other plans.
Throughout my life I have endured and survived things many people would not believe. I have been struck by lightning. I have experienced energetic attacks from people working with dark forces who sought to steal my power when I was still a child and teenager. I have faced immense challenges that forced me to either break apart or awaken more deeply into who I truly was.
Every hardship became initiation.
Every wound became medicine.
Every lesson became wisdom.
I was also taught by family members who are now my ancestors and who still guide me from the spirit world today.
So no, I was never eager to take the title of Shaman.
Those who truly understand what that word carries are usually the least eager to claim it.
Spirit told me I had to stop hiding from my birthright.
When spirit named me Bearclaw, they told me it was time.
Every word within my course manuals came through spirit guidance. Spirit guided me to become an accredited training provider. Spirit guided me to teach in a way that honours soul truth rather than control.
Because I come from an authentic shamanic bloodline, I do not force students to become copies of me.
I encourage them to remember themselves.
To listen to their own soul.
To trust their own inner knowing.
To reconnect with the medicine they already carry within them.
True spiritual teaching should never create dependency.
It should create remembrance.
A true shaman understands that this path is not about ego.
It is about service.
It requires immense responsibility and an unbreakable heart capable of love, compassion, patience and forgiveness even when facing darkness.
We speak truth because we answer to something higher than ourselves.
We hold space for people.
We listen deeply.
We bring healing and guidance directly and honestly.
And our silence, patience or kindness should never be mistaken for blindness.
It comes from wisdom.
It comes from understanding the deeper workings of the universe.
For those who are genuinely curious about my lineage, my origins or my path, my inbox is always open.
Come and speak with me properly for a while.
Let us share time, the most precious thing any of us truly possess.
Let us use it wisely.
My love to you all.
~ Bearclaw
(Photo of me before the stroke)
