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A story is told from long ago about two old healers who

The Forest in Winter

met one night to discuss the way of things. One was a Sherpa, the other a Shaman. The story goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a deep, dark forest that grew next to vast grasslands. The grasslands were bright, with breezes and sunlight. All who lived in the grasslands believed they saw things clearly. They felt they were very clever indeed.

The forest was uninhabited, infinite, dark, and unknown. There were no roads there. Tales were told among the grassland dwellers that the forest held great secrets and wonderful riches deep within it. It was believed, however, that if one ventured there, things changed, and one was never again quite the same. Sometimes folk went into the forest and never came out. They were spoken of in hushed voices. It was best, tpeople said, to avoid the forest altogether. There were those, however, who longed for the knowledge of the forest, and who would go there. They were called the “Travelers” and the wise ones among them sought the guidance of Healers to help them with their journey.

The Healers knew the ways of the forest. They did not live there, but they knew its ways, and knew many of the secrets there. The Healers were of two kinds: either a Sherpa or a Shaman. Each approached the knowledge of the forest in a very different way. A Traveler hired a Healer to guide him when he went in search for the treasures of the forest, for to go unattended held great risks.

Now, as the light faded on this particular evening, you can imagine this grassland, and you can imagine this deep dark forest. You can, if you will, let your imagination place a small, warm campfire in that narrow ribbon of land that is neither forest nor grassland but, lying just between them, is a little of each. The fire is low, yet enough for two old Healers to warm themselves. Perhaps they have just finished their meal.

The Shaman was thoughtful. He poked the fire with a stick, and sucked his teeth. Finally he sighed and spoke. “A Traveler has come to me,” he said, “who seeks my assistance. He says he seeks knowledge. He says he seeks to change his life through maturity and wisdom.” He sat, thinking to himself. He thought of his work with this Traveler—piercing the darkness of the forest in search of just the right tools, the most useful secrets or bits of knowledge to bring to the Traveler. “I am a Shaman, and I have traveled the dark forest alone for him, at grave danger to myself, to bring to him what he needs to accomplish these things.” There was another pause and the Shaman spoke again, heavily. “He won’t use them. He won’t use these things I bring him.”

The Sherpa listened, pondering the notion of going into the forest alone. Alone? Why did the Traveler not travel? How could any Healer know what to look for, for another? How would a Healer know what tools or visions a particular Traveler might need? How could a Traveler change himself, who does not work for that knowledge but is only given gifts?

The Sherpa said nothing for a long time. “Perhaps,” She said, “your Traveler is not unhappy enough to risk such change.”

The Shaman though about this a while and then chuckled. He now knew what he could do to remedy the situation.

The Sherpa arranged her shawl against the cooling night air. “I, too, have a Traveler.” She sighed. She considered the pains she took, leading the Traveler through the forest’s deepness, guarding him from danger, so that he might see for himself into the mystery within. How careful she was to coax this Traveler into seeing for himself what he needed, and claim it as his own. How gently she had taken him to choose the most useful tools for himself! “I am a Sherpa,” she said, “I traveled with my Traveler and showed him many things. I presented him with choices and tools to use. I pointed out the landscape and hoped that he would see what he needs.” She poked at the fire with a stick. “He, too, will not use them.”

The Shaman thought about this. Who would take an untrained Traveler into the forest? How would he be able to concentrate? How would he know what to do? How would the Traveler know what is needed to accomplish the goals of the journey? Finally he spoke. “Perhaps,” he said, “your Traveler is not unhappy enough to risk such change.”

They both chuckled in the firelight, for the Sherpa now knew what she could do to remedy the situation. They parted company the next day in good spirits.

A year later the Sherpa and the Shaman met again at the edge of the forest. They ate their dinner and waited for the fire to die down. “Well,” asked the Sherpa, “How is your Traveler doing these days?”

“Who?” The Shaman replied, “Oh, him! I told him that he was right not to use what I brought him. I told him his problem was too great for my skills. I told him to find a greater Healer than I, and he would do well. How about yours?”

A smile grew on the Sherpa’s face as she thought of this. “The same,” she said, “the same. I, too, told him to find a Healer with greater skills.”

There was a long silence in the night. The Sherpa and the Shaman poked the fire, sucked their teeth, and thought their thoughts in the gathering darkness.

The Shaman finally spoke. “Yes,” he said, “and he’s doing very well with me, you know.”

“I thought he would,” said the Sherpa, “And so is yours, and so is yours, with me.”

They both chuckled softly.

This is an excerpt from the book: 20-20 Insight, Advanced Theory and Practice of Hypnosis, by this author Kate Bowditch. See more on the page above: Book about hypnosis.