There is probably no person who hasn’t experienced the magic of living fire at least once. When we look at a live fire in a campfire or fireplace, it warms us, fascinates us, and calms us. I felt this magic in my childhood during my first hikes with my father in the taiga when we went into the wilds of Khakassia for several days. By the fire, we needed to dry our clothes and warm up before sleeping. Most often, we would build shelters on aromatic fir branches. My father was born in a small mountain village surrounded by the taiga. That village no longer exists, but my father was always drawn to his native places. And he managed to introduce me to that wild beauty.
Many years later, in the same Khakassia, Tuva, and Altai, I would sit by the fire with local shamans. These were people who tried to revive the old traditions of Siberian shamanism. This was before the shamanism boom began in Russia. I remember how one Khakas shaman in the steppe used two fires: one for domestic use and one for sacred purposes. The first was for burning away anything unnecessary or cooking food. The second was used for the ritual of kamlanie.
The magic of a campfire at night in the taiga, by a river, or in the steppe was something I felt from early childhood. The kamlanie of Siberian shamans, honestly, didn’t add anything extra for me other than an element of ethnography. The fire itself and the wild surroundings had a much stronger impact on me. And I learned to meditate long before that. But I always respected people’s attempts to revive the once-powerful tradition of Siberian shamanism.
I have always loved the musical creativity of the indigenous peoples of Siberia. I remember one night by the fire with a famous Altai throat-singing group. The guys had had a little vodka and were in a great mood. They sang their beautiful songs from the heart. It wasn’t shamanism. They didn’t claim to be practicing that craft. But I remembered the beauty of that moment, and I am grateful to them for it.
Another time, a young Tuvan sang for me and my friend in the sacred places of Tuva. At 15, he was a young talent who had traveled to many countries, even performing in Japan. At 18, he fought in the first Chechen war, which dramatically changed his life. Since then, he almost never sang. But that time, he made an exception. It was valuable to me. He showed me places in Tuva near the Mongolian border, places you couldn’t access without a local guide.
Fire in Peyote Shamanic Ceremonies in the Tradition of the Wirrarika People
A real encounter with the magic of fire for me happened a few years later during peyote shamanic ceremonies in Mexico. Before that, I didn’t even imagine that such a connection with fire could exist, that fire could give us so much, tell us so much, and show us so much. It was important that I first attended peyote ceremonies already having the experience of hundreds of Ayahuasca ceremonies in Peru. I was ready for a strong transformative experience, and I found real shamans.
In the Wirrarika tradition, fire is grandfather Tatewari. He is older than the Sun, which is considered the father in the tradition. Tatewari is also called the first shaman. The other shamans in the tradition, called marakame, are just his helpers. Of course, marakame do very important work. Without them, one of the main elements of the ceremony would be missing. But they themselves acknowledge Tatewari’s primacy.
Large peyote ceremonies sometimes last about 24 hours, at least from sunset to sunrise. This means you spend the entire night in the desert or mountains by the fire. But you rarely feel sleepy. If you eat peyote, you stay alert. The more and longer you eat it, the more strength comes to you. But it’s not a stimulating plant. You gain strength because you enter the world of waking dreams. Your consciousness begins to embrace new possibilities for perceiving reality.
But unlike many other ceremonies, in peyote ceremonies, you’re not always passive. You can move, dance to the music, sing with the shamans. Powerful creative energy opens up within you. Alongside this, you remember and realize many things in your life. Important insights come.
Throughout the peyote ceremony, you maintain a very close connection with the fire. It protects you. It cleanses you of all the heavy feelings that surface from the past. The fire, together with the shamans, helps to transform negative energy into positive energy. And in the fire, often like on a screen, you see many vivid visions. You can see them with your eyes closed or open. At a certain stage of trance immersion, it no longer makes a difference.
An interesting fact is that even people completely unfamiliar with the mythology and cosmology of the Wirrarika often reproduce archetypal images in their visions. For example, many see a fire deer. He is called Kauyumari or elder brother. In the understanding of the indigenous people, he is essentially the spirit of Peyote. And Peyote itself has many names, but the word Hikuri is most commonly used.
Peyote ceremonies are similar to Ayahuasca ceremonies in helping us reconnect with nature and feel a deep connection with it. When we conduct ceremonies in the Wirikuta desert, coyotes often come close at night and sing their mournful songs. You can sing along with them to your heart’s content!
At some point in the ceremony, we say goodbye to the setting sun and greet the moon. Then a magical starry sky appears. In the altered state of consciousness, the starry sky looks completely different. It’s filled with indescribable messages for us. It’s stunningly beautiful.
Then comes the moment when the moon sets. This is the darkest time. And only the fire continues to light our way and accompany us on this journey through the world of our soul, leading us into its darkest corners. We meet parts of ourselves that we had long forgotten and seemingly never knew at all. And everywhere we bring the light and warmth of the fire, burning away all the old clutter accumulated in the soul.
And then the sun rises. With great joy, we greet the dawn. We thank the fire, the shamans, and our friends. Before we start breakfast ourselves, we offer food to the fire. The morning birds begin to sing. Hares and other small animals become visible around us. We made it through the dark night without closing our eyes, discovering another side of ourselves that is usually inaccessible to people.
It’s especially important to mention the songs of peyote shamans. I’ve attended ceremonies with shamans from different peoples and tribes. Some of them sing calm and deep songs, others fiery and fast-paced ones. But the songs of true shamans always touch the heart. They help us face the truth of life that we sometimes forget in the rush and narrowness of consciousness.
