Honoring the sacred roots of this path

The word shaman is powerful. It’s ancient. And like many sacred things, it’s often misunderstood—especially in the modern West.

In traditional Indigenous cultures, a shaman is not self-appointed. They don’t choose the title. It is given to them—by their community—after a profound, often life-altering initiation. This may involve serious illness, a near-death experience, or years of apprenticeship and sacrifice. A shaman is recognized not just for their ability to heal, but for having been through something so transformative that it changes the way they walk between worlds.

In contrast, I am a shamanic practitioner—and I say that with deep respect and intention.

What’s the Difference?

A shaman is often born into the role or initiated through traditional rites passed down through generations. Their work is embedded in the cosmology, practices, and language of their culture.

A shamanic practitioner, like myself, has trained in cross-cultural methodologies—approaches made accessible and teachable to those of us who were not born into Indigenous lineage. I studied under Sandra Ingerman, who was clear about this distinction. She taught that we are not shamans—but we can practice the sacred healing principles with reverence, discipline, and humility.

Why It Matters

In today’s spiritual landscape, it’s tempting to use titles for validation or marketing. But this work isn’t about claiming power—it’s about holding space for transformation. Healing happens when the ego steps aside. If someone leads with “I’m a shaman,” I gently suggest discernment. Authentic work rarely announces itself.

Calling myself a shaman would not only misrepresent my training—it would dishonor the cultures that birthed this path. I don’t need that label to do the work. The healing speaks for itself.

Walking the Path With Integrity

I’ve spent nearly 30 years in this work. I’ve apprenticed with a contemporary shaman, studied ancient East Indian healing systems, practiced soul retrieval, power animal connection, and spiritual counseling. But the real training has been life itself—its pain, its surrender, its guidance.

This path didn’t start with a title. It started with a calling.

So no—I don’t call myself a shaman. I call myself a practitioner, a servant, Honoring the sacred roots of this path

The word shaman is powerful. It’s ancient. And like many sacred things, it’s often misunderstood—especially in the modern West.

In traditional Indigenous cultures, a shaman is not self-appointed. They don’t choose the title. It is given to them—by their community—after a profound, often life-altering initiation. This may involve serious illness, a near-death experience, or years of apprenticeship and sacrifice. A shaman is recognized not just for their ability to heal, but for having been through something so transformative that it changes the way they walk between worlds.

In contrast, I am a shamanic practitioner—and I say that with deep respect and intention.

What’s the Difference?

A shaman is often born into the role or initiated through traditional rites passed down through generations. Their work is embedded in the cosmology, practices, and language of their culture.

A shamanic practitioner, like myself, has trained in cross-cultural methodologies—approaches made accessible and teachable to those of us who were not born into Indigenous lineage. I studied under Sandra Ingerman, who was clear about this distinction. She taught that we are not shamans—but we can practice the sacred healing principles with reverence, discipline, and humility.

Why It Matters

In today’s spiritual landscape, it’s tempting to use titles for validation or marketing. But this work isn’t about claiming power—it’s about holding space for transformation. Healing happens when the ego steps aside. If someone leads with “I’m a shaman,” I gently suggest discernment. Authentic work rarely announces itself.

Calling myself a shaman would not only misrepresent my training—it would dishonor the cultures that birthed this path. I don’t need that label to do the work. The healing speaks for itself.

Walking the Path With Integrity

I’ve spent nearly 30 years in this work. I’ve apprenticed with a contemporary shaman, studied ancient East Indian healing systems, practiced soul retrieval, power animal connection, and spiritual counseling. But the real training has been life itself—its pain, its surrender, its guidance.

This path didn’t start with a title. It started with a calling.

I don’t call myself a shaman. I call myself a practitioner, a servant, and a guide for those ready to remember who they are.Honoring the sacred roots of this path

The word shaman is powerful. It’s ancient. And like many sacred things, it’s often misunderstood—especially in the modern West.

In traditional Indigenous cultures, a shaman is not self-appointed. They don’t choose the title. It is given to them—by their community—after a profound, often life-altering initiation. This may involve serious illness, a near-death experience, or years of apprenticeship and sacrifice. A shaman is recognized not just for their ability to heal, but for having been through something so transformative that it changes the way they walk between worlds.

In contrast, I am a shamanic practitioner—and I say that with deep respect and intention.

What’s the Difference?

A shaman is often born into the role or initiated through traditional rites passed down through generations. Their work is embedded in the cosmology, practices, and language of their culture.

A shamanic practitioner, like myself, has trained in cross-cultural methodologies—approaches made accessible and teachable to those of us who were not born into Indigenous lineage. I studied under Sandra Ingerman, who was clear about this distinction. She taught that we are not shamans—but we can practice the sacred healing principles with reverence, discipline, and humility.

Why It Matters

In today’s spiritual landscape, it’s tempting to use titles for validation or marketing. But this work isn’t about claiming power—it’s about holding space for transformation. Healing happens when the ego steps aside. If someone leads with “I’m a shaman,” I gently suggest discernment. Authentic work rarely announces itself.

Calling myself a shaman would not only misrepresent my training—it would dishonor the cultures that birthed this path. I don’t need that label to do the work. The healing speaks for itself.

Walking the Path With Integrity

I’ve spent nearly 30 years in this work. I’ve apprenticed with a contemporary shaman, studied ancient East Indian healing systems, practiced soul retrieval, power animal connection, and spiritual counseling. But the real training has been life itself—its pain, its surrender, its guidance.

This path didn’t start with a title. It started with a calling.

I call myself a practitioner, a servant, a guide for those ready to restore peace, power, and wholeness.

The rest, I trust, will be felt.

—Maia