Working with the Soil of Your Soul
The Sacred Alchemy of Soil, Shadow, and Rebirth
In the quiet corner of every garden sits the compost heap: the designated collector of everything we cast aside. The fibrous stalks and tough trimmings we cannot eat, the bruised windfalls, the spent garden plants, the tangled prunings, and the wet piles of autumn leaves. Left untouched in a neglected mound, this matter compacts down cold and slimy, choking out air and life.
But when you plunge a fork into that heap, turn it over, and invite breath and light back in, a quiet alchemy begins. The core heats up, the biology awakens, and what was once discarded as useless rubbish breaks down into dark, crumbly, sweet-smelling humus—the rich medicine that feeds the roots of next season’s bloom. Our inner landscape works in precisely the same way.
Too often in modern life, through the need to survive, we learn ways to ignore and suppress our past wounds, burying them in silence or endlessly turning them over through words alone. Yet in shamanic practice, we view our emotional scraps differently. We do not simply excavate our suffering to re-traumatise ourselves by staring at the rot. We learn to compost it. We turn our heaviest pain into potent spiritual medicine, transforming the toxic past into the richest soil of our lives.
The Three Worlds and the Ecology of the Psyche
In shamanism, we walk between Three Worlds: the Lower, Middle, and Upper Worlds. This map mirrors our human consciousness in a way that psychologist Roberto Assagioli captured brilliantly in Psychosynthesis.
The Upper World corresponds to the higher unconscious—the cosmic heights of inspiration, purpose, and spiritual light.
The Middle World is our conscious everyday reality—how we show up in our physical bodies, our daily walk on this planet.
And the Lower World is our deep subconscious—the rooted realm of ancestral memory, primal instinct, and instinctual power.
True vitality demands balance across all three. There is a persistent temptation in spiritual circles to grasp only for the light—to bypass the messy dark and remain perpetually in the Upper World. But a tree with massive branches and shallow roots topples in the first gale. Those who chase only the light miss out on the deep, grounding nourishment that comes from digging into the earth. The Lower World is where our roots live; it is our compost zone. If we deny it, our roots starve, leaving us unanchored, exhausted, and unable to thrive fully.
The Non-Verbal Language of Transformation
Talking through our experiences has its place, and many progressive psychotherapists weave somatic and experiential tools into their work today because they know a fundamental truth: words alone are rarely enough. Deep trauma, wild rage, and profound grief reside in a realm far older and more primal than language.
This is why the shamanic path is so intrinsically linked to art. Artists know that you cannot simply think your way through suffering; you must shape it, paint it, or move it. Both art and shamanic ceremony offer non-verbal pathways to make the invisible visible.
One of the most profound ceremonies I work with is the creation of a living earth mandala. Together with the land, we tell our story without relying on speech. We might dig a deliberate shallow hole into the soil—a symbolic grave to lay down an old, outgrown version of ourselves or a memory that has held us hostage. We place biodegradable offerings—petals, twigs, seeds, fallen leaves—over that space, carefully weaving an altar of intention that honours what was, while visibly mapping out our blossoming into who we are becoming.
As we sit in meditation with this living art, our brain processes the shift on a neurological, symbolic level. The internal release becomes an external reality. We witness our pain being held and digested by something far greater than ourselves.
Our Elemental Allies in the Work
To make good compost, you need specific conditions: moisture, aeration, heat, and space. In ceremony, we do not compost alone; we call upon our Spirit Guides, our Power Animals, and the foundational elements of our universe—the very building blocks of our own bodies:
Earth: Our bedrock and sanctuary. Whenever anger rises in me, I walk outside, take a fork to the earth, and work my compost heaps. With no complex intention other than letting the physical surge move through muscle and iron into soil, the valve releases. The heavy charge dissipates into the ground, leaving behind a sudden, quiet spaciousness where light can enter again.
Fire: The great accelerator. Through fire ceremony, we offer dried sticks or botanicals carrying old patterns to the sacred flames, allowing rapid transmutation of dense energies into smoke and ash.
Air: The breath of life. We use conscious breathwork, sacred song, rattling, or the raw medicine of screaming our unfiltered pain into a roaring wind, letting the atmosphere carry away what words cannot articulate.
Water: The deep cleanser. Found in the medicine of tears, ritual herbal baths, and the steam of the lodge where water kisses hot stone to wash away the old skin and rebirth our spirit.
Ether: The cosmic container. Akin to the Buddhist understanding of emptiness (Śūnyatā)—the sacred, pregnant “no-thing” that holds all things. It is the vast, spacious awareness from which every form arises and into which all eventually returns. (Read more: Connecting With Our Ether Element)
Mama Earth: The Original Mother and Sorceress
Above all our allies sits Mama Earth—the most potent sorceress in existence. Her capacity to transmute is absolute. Under her heat and pressure, she takes a chunk of compressed coal and crafts a diamond; into her cool depths, she takes rotting matter and yields vibrant, nutrient-dense humus.
She is our original Mother. Long before we had biological families—who, being human, may have been limited, wounded, or unable to meet our every need—Mama Earth was already holding us. She is the steady presence I run to when I need unconditional love, shelter, nourishment, raw hope, and comfort. She asks for no explanations and casts no judgment. She simply takes whatever we cannot bear to hold, opens her arms, and gets to work breaking it down.
The indigenous Q’ero elders of the Andes taught me an invaluable lesson: shamanism is not a rigid dogma stuck in archaic rules. It is an intensely practical, progressive, living craft. You use what works, you discard what no longer serves, and you adapt. It is not about floating off into “woo-woo” realms to escape living; it is about getting your hands into the dirt to live more fully.
Medicine for Expansion
When we compost our past, the old stories don't magically vanish as though they never occurred. Instead, their texture and taste change. What was once bitter, jagged, and paralyzing softens into a rich, dark substance that feeds our wisdom, compassion, and courage.
Your past is not a life sentence of toxic waste. It is raw material waiting for breath, heat, and reverent hands. When we step into relationship with Mama Earth, turning the soil together, we discover that the very things that once threatened to bury us become the fertile ground from which we finally bloom.
Taking the Next Step: Working with the Soil of Your Soul
If you feel called to begin this alchemical process in your own life, there are several ways we can step onto this path together:
Create Your Own Living Mandala: If you would like to explore this non-verbal medicine at home, head over to my YouTube channel, where I walk you through how to create your own earth mandala step-by-step—offering your stories, grief, and intentions back to Mama Earth through a simple, biodegradable ceremony.
Bespoke 1:1 Ceremonial Healing: For those carrying deep-seated wounds, heavy life transitions, or past patterns that feel too dense to untangle alone, I offer tailored, one-to-one shamanic sessions. Together, we craft a bespoke ceremony, weave with the elements, and gently turn your inner compost to create direct, lasting medicine for your life.
The Shaman’s Way (Starting 9th October): If you are ready to immerse yourself deeply in these ancient, grounded practices, the next intake of The Shaman’s Way, a year-long journey across 13 moons, begins in just one month.
If your roots are calling out for nourishment, and you are ready to stop fearing the dark and start turning it into living gold, the circle is open. Reach out to book your 1:1 ceremony or secure your place in The Shaman's Way before we begin our journey together into the turning of the season.
