Shaman or Facilitator? Why I Don't Claim a Title

For nine years, I have accompanied people in healing and ceremony as a facilitator of ancestral medicines. I work with ayahuasca, kambo, bufo alvarius and San Pedro, and I teach non-duality during retreats in Europe, Asia, Africa and Latin America. I have passed my knowledge on to a team that now offers kambo sessions in Strasbourg, Nice and Paris, among other places, and travels wherever there is demand.

Throughout this time, one question keeps coming back: "So, are you a shaman?"

My answer is simple: no. And I don't feel the need to be.

It isn't a rejection. It is a choice that comes from what life has shown me.

Unexpected teachers

On my path, I have felt the visit of certain medicines that came to teach me. Ayahuasca, of course, which was the first great doorway. Kambo, the medicine of the Amazonian frog, which taught me humility and presence in the body. Chiric sanango, which came to show me how it releases fears.

And then, what always makes me smile: lavender.

Yes, lavender. It came in its own way, discreet and tender. It came to show me how I could use it, and how it could do me good.

There are others I could speak of: cacao, rose… Each with its own way of teaching.

I see a message in this: teaching is not reserved for what is rare, distant or impressive. It is everywhere. It is simply waiting for us to listen.

Why I don't want a title

If a garden plant can teach me, then this gift of listening belongs to no one in particular.

I deeply believe that we all have access to these gifts. To intuition, to our connection with the living world, to the inner wisdom that already knows what we need. A title could suggest the opposite: that on one side there are those who know, and on the other those who must wait to be given.

In the path I share, especially through A Course in Miracles, nothing truly separates us. What I recognize in myself, I recognize in you. I don't want to place myself above those I accompany. I want to walk beside them.

Shaman, healer, spiritual teacher, medicine woman… Why a title?

I have been given many names over the years. Shaman. Healer. Spiritual teacher. Medicine woman. Some with admiration, others with curiosity, sometimes with suspicion.

None of them quite fits me.

Above all, I have the feeling of doing what I have to do, when life asks me to do it. One day, it is holding a ceremonial circle. Another, it is listening on the phone to someone who hesitates to take the step. Another still, it is simply picking lavender. I don't always choose the form. I answer.

So I ask myself the question, and I ask it of you too: what does a title come to validate?

My experience? It is there, with or without a name.

My legitimacy? It shows in the way I accompany, not in the way I introduce myself.

Or is it a part of me that would need to be recognized, to be placed a little above?

If so, then the title wouldn't help me. It would separate me. And everything I teach invites me, on the contrary, to remember that nothing truly separates us.

I don't judge those who carry these names. Everyone has their own story, and sometimes a title is an honest way of saying where one comes from. For me, the question remains open, and I prefer to leave it open rather than close it with a word.

I honor those who carry this name

I want to say it clearly: I have deep respect for those who carry the name of shaman, curandero or taita, and for the traditions that trained them. These lineages have preserved, over centuries, a precious knowledge of plants and ceremonies. Without them, none of us would be here.

My choice not to take this title says nothing against them. It only says something about my own place.

Shamans and facilitators: stepping out of competition

What troubles me is not a word. It is the war being waged around it.

Shamans versus facilitators. Who is the most authentic? Who has the most legitimacy? Who is the greatest? We see these debates multiplying, sometimes with great harshness.

I understand where they come from. There are real questions of transmission, respect for cultures, and safety. But when the discussion turns into competition, it takes us away from what matters most: the person who arrives, often fragile, full of hope, simply looking for a little peace.

This person doesn't need us to argue over who deserves them. They need a safe setting, sincere listening and someone who remains humble.

Accompanying is not healing in someone else's place

What I have learned in nine years is that I am not the one who transforms anyone. I hold the space. I watch over safety. I listen. But the path is walked by the person, with their courage, their openness and their willingness to look at what arises.

Putting myself at the center would take away something that belongs to them.

Frequently asked questions

What is the difference between a shaman and a facilitator?

The word shaman traditionally refers to a person trained within a lineage, often Amazonian in the case of ayahuasca. A facilitator accompanies ceremonies without claiming that role: they hold the setting, watch over safety and support each person on their own path.

Do you need a shaman to experience an ayahuasca ceremony?

What matters most is a safe setting: an experienced person, a prior interview, attention to medical contraindications and follow-up after the ceremony. The title matters less than these guarantees.

How can you tell whether a facilitator is serious?

Ask about their experience, about contraindications and about what happens if difficulties arise. That is why I offer a phone conversation before anyone signs up for a retreat.

Neither above nor below

So no, I am not a shaman. I am a woman who has been taught by plants, medicines and encounters, and who tries to pass this on with honesty.

Neither above. Nor below. Simply beside.

And if only one thing should remain from this article, let it be this: what you are looking for outside, you already have access to.

Further reading: Ayahuasca Integration: What to Do in the Days After a Ceremony.