As someone who grew up in two deeply spiritual locations (Hawaii and New Mexico), swings a pendulum for clarity on yes-or-no quandaries, consults two different decks of oracle cards, and employs a psychic, seeing a shaman was hardly out of the realm of my New Age adventures. That this particular shaman, Monterey-based Jon Rasmussen, happens to conduct a few sessions a month at Big Sur's super exclusive Post Ranch Inn was merely icing on my holistic layer cake.
The assignment was simple: Stay a night in one of the Inn's luxuriously appointed tree houses—funky rustic-modern cabins made of wood, glass, and patinated steel—and have my chakras cleared and/or my aura rebooted by the shaman. I've known others to be completely transformed by shamanic experiences. But in all my New Age adventures, I've yet to find one that bowls me over with actual measurable results. I keep trying out new mystical modes, tempting the universe to prove me wrong.
After a road trip down the coast from San Francisco, I checked into the Post Ranch Inn just after 4pm last Wednesday, leaving me just enough time before my shamanic session to replenish my blood sugar with a chocolate chip cookie and coconut juice from the complimentary mini bar and to take a quick stroll around the property: Two cliffside infinity spas—check; award-winning Sierra Mar restaurant—check; in-bloom wildflower gardens—check. To make my way to the yurt where Rasmussen was waiting, I traversed some winding trails through redwood forests and meadows, past the chef's garden (site of abundant herbs and vegetables, two old Pippin apple trees, and one future quail coop), past the swimming pool, past the beehives, and past some very interesting outdoor sculptures.
I knocked on the yurt door. Rasmussen waved me in. There was a faint smell of alcohol in the air. I didn't just wonder what the next 90 minutes had in store for me, I wondered if my shaman had a pre-ritual tip of the bottle. We sat facing each other on yoga bolsters and Peruvian blankets. I asked Rasmussen what a shaman does, and how, specifically, he became a shaman, given that his blond Cali-boy looks didn't exactly jive with my preconceived notion of what an enlightened being with the infinite wisdom of the ancients at his disposal should look like. In its simplest definition, a shaman pitchforks lifetimes' worth of energetic blocks and returns them to the earth for “mulching." After such a mystical sowing, you are free to grow your deepest desires. As for Rasmussen's path to shamanism, well, you'd seek a spiritual path too if you barely survived seven near-death experiences before the age of 20.
After revealing my innermost aspirations (which shall remain confidential—you know, shaman-client privilege), Rasmussen asked me to choose a few stones from his collection of 13, which he placed on my throat chakra (seat of personal expression), heart chakra (where love emanates), and base chakra (for grounding). To create a “sterile environment" for his assistants (a "spiritual team" that visits from another plane of existence), he put a drop of herb-infused Bacardi 151 to his lips and spit the homemade brew into the air, which explained the boozy whiff I got earlier in the session. After 10 minutes of chanting, feather waving, and hands-on energy balancing, Rasmussen instructed me to envision a crowd of my ancestors, thousands of lifetimes deep. I thanked them for their lives, forgave them for their mistakes, and kindly explained that I'd be following my own path now. As a final step, Rasmussen and I locked our left eyes to “retrieve" my destiny.
The only physical evidence of an energy reboot was a gradual shift in my body temperature, from chills to warmth. But I can easily chalk that up to natural biorythms. Otherwise, I didn't necessarily connect with Rasmussen's insights—apparently, in a previous life, I had been a wild woman, full of verve. My task in this life would be to reclaim that unbridled essence: Throw caution to the wind, confidently express what I feel, and unapologetically ask for what I want. Standard operating procedure for modern-day women, yes?
I'm also supposed to marvel at my new ability to effortlessly manifest my truest hopes and dreams. As a card-carrying pessimist, this promise is a little difficult to wrap my brain around, but as I mentioned, I'm happy to be proven wrong. With some due diligence—creating a new vision board, for example—I should start seeing results in two to four weeks. My byline coming soon to a New York Times near you? A walk-on role as Cookie's mouthy new assistant on Empire? A romantic Hawaiian getaway in the near future? Stay tuned. Best life ever, here I come.
