The Human Technology You Already Have

Occulted skills that are your birthright

I wasn’t looking for a spiritual practice. I was just trying to triage the trauma.

It was spring break, my early twenties, and I’d just lived through something I didn’t want on my timeline. I was in therapy — and still am, by the way (I’m a big fan of therapy) — but I knew this was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be solved by talking about it.

Around that time, my anthropology teacher, Hank Wesselman, had introduced our class to the concept of soul retrieval — an ancient practice rooted in shamanic traditions around the world. The idea being that when we go through trauma, parts of our soul sometimes step out for a bit to protect us, and sometimes they have trouble finding their way back.

He spoke of it gently, almost reverently. He said it was a way to call back lost parts of the Self. A way to heal the places that trauma had hollowed out… and my interest was piqued.

When I returned from break, I called Hank’s wife, Jill Kuykendall, who was a soul retrieval practitioner, and asked for help. I didn’t know exactly what I needed or what I believed. I just knew I needed something deeper.

Something older. Something sacred.

What happened next changed my life. It didn’t just help me through the trauma — it gave me a lifelong tool.

That tool is Shamanic Journeywork.

It’s not a religion, and it’s not an exclusive club for mystical elites, and most importantly - it’s not something outside of you.

It’s something your body already knows how to do — a built-in technology, part of being human. Shamanic Journeywork is a way of traveling inward, into the Dreamtime, to access guidance, healing, or insight directly. It’s not meditation, though it shares a few similarities. It’s more like lucid dreaming with intention.

Through drumming or rattling, the brain slips into a different frequency — that soft, suggestive, deeply intuitive state just below waking consciousness. From there, you enter what’s called the middle world, your own sacred inner landscape, and can travel to the underworld, the realm of earth, ancestors, and elements, or the upper world, where your higher self and spiritual council hang out, rolling their eyes fondly while you forget, yet again, that you’re divine.

You might meet guides. You might sit with the spirit of a plant. You might walk with your ancestors. You might ask a question and hear the answer echo back from the roots of the world.

And most importantly, you don’t need psychedelics (not that I’m against them), temples, or intermediaries. You just need a drumbeat, a quiet space, and a willingness to listen.

In this practice, the world is layered. The middle world is your inner garden — the place you tend to, and learn from. The underworld holds the ancient ones: rock, root, bone, soil. The upper world is the realm of light, where your oversoul and guides reside. You can journey to meet plant spirits (yes, really — oregano has wisdom). You can ask questions about your path, your relationships, your purpose. You can travel to aspects of yourself that are lost, wounded, or exiled, and invite them home.

And you can do all of this without anyone else telling you what your experience “means.” Because you don’t need an interpreter for the word of God, or the universe, or your own soul.

When I first began journeying, I was barely twenty, terrified, and chronically depressed. Over the next two decades, this practice became my lifeline. It helped me move through PTSD, lift out of morbid depression, and even change my relationship with addiction. It guided me toward the romantic partnership of my dreams — and out of the codependent cycles that used to define my love life. I’ve turned to this work during global crises and personal heartbreaks, and it always does the same thing: it brings me back to myself. It guides me out of the darkness.

Shamanic Journeywork isn’t about escaping the world — it’s about walking through it with more awareness, more facility. It’s how we learn to sit at the table with every part of ourselves, even the messy, contradictory, seemingly-unloveable bits, and realize that all of it is sacred.

Here’s a fun fact that still makes me laugh: when we drum, that steady bass beat doesn’t just calm our nervous system — it strengthens the mycelial networks under our feet. The mushrooms like it when we drum. Drumming improves human cognition and helps the planet’s nervous system. That’s not metaphor, that’s research. So the next time you’re lying on the floor, eyes closed, following that rhythm into the unseen, remember: you’re doing planetary repair work. You’re literally helping the forest.

Why I think it’s especially important right now?

We’re living through a time of mass disconnection — from ourselves, each other, and the living world. The world doesn’t need more fractured souls walking around pretending they’re fine. We need people who are whole. People who can hear the earth. People who can access their own wisdom instead of outsourcing it to gurus, governments, or Instagram.

And that’s why I created Dancing in the Dreamtime. A seven-week journey where I teach you this exact technology — this human inheritance — so you can remember how to access guidance, steadiness, and healing whenever you need it.

And this year, I’ve made it radically accessible. Last year this program was $555 and honestly that was a steal, but for this year only, I’m offering it for $222 — just over thirty bucks a week.

Because before it was a course, or a curriculum, or a circle, this work was my liferaft. And it might be yours, too.

This work has changed my life a dozen times over. It’s the most powerful, practical magic I know. And I’m not here to gatekeep it.

So if you’ve ever wanted to talk to the unseen — to remember your own strength, your own voice, your own connection — this is your invitation.

Come learn to journey.
Come Dancing in the Dreamtime →

This article was originally published on Substack. You can read the original here.