The Shaman Speaks: A Message for the Cleveland Guardians

What does this team need?

I sat at the feet of the shaman as he slowly smoked his pipe filled with mapacho tobacco.

He looked at me and said, “There is something bothering you, little brother.”

I was quiet for a moment, trying to verbalize what I was feeling... and then said, “Yes… there is. But it’s kind of strange.”

He nodded. “Tell me. I’m listening.”

“My favorite team is the Cleveland Guardians,” I said. “At the start of this season, you could see they were having fun. They were playing with joy—playing with love. But now, over the past few weeks… they’ve become lost. Not just on the field—but in their minds, in their hearts. They’re making mental errors. They can’t hit. They aren’t having fun. They’re losing games they used to win, and I can feel that something’s weighing on them… but I don’t know what it is, or how they can change it.”

The shaman sat in silence for a moment and then said, “Yes... I understand. Even though I’m from the jungle, I know that this life has many different paths. And the path these baseball players are walking—it’s no different from any other path in life. In any walk of life, there are always highs and lows. That’s part of the journey. For example... you can’t be happy all the time. If you were always happy, you’d eventually forget what true happiness is. Sometimes, we have to feel sadness so we can truly appreciate joy. If it’s always sunny, we forget what the warmth of the sun feels like—because it’s all we know. To enjoy the warmth of the sun, we have to feel the cold as well. The cold is what helps us remember how good the sun feels when it returns.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I get that. But also… sometimes in life you have to actively change something, don’t you? When something’s not working, you have to act. This team—this group of players—they’re not enjoying the game right now. They’re stuck. And they don’t know how to get out of it.”

The shaman gave me a long, thoughtful look. “Yes, little brother. That’s true. But let me ask you something important: What is the purpose of life?”

I paused. I had no answer. And so I told him the truth. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that question so many times. Why are we here? What is all of this for?”

He smiled warmly and leaned forward in his chair. “The purpose of life is to learn. To evolve. Every experience we have carries a lesson. And if we learn that lesson—and apply it—we move forward. But if we don’t… we get stuck. We repeat the same cycle until we finally understand.”

I sat with his words, surrounded by the smoke from his pipe. Then I said, “So what you’re saying is… the players on this team haven’t learned the lesson yet. That’s why they’re stuck.”

He nodded slowly. “Exactly. But there’s another part. Sometimes, when we try so hard to succeed—when we push too hard to get unstuck—we forget how to relax. We stop flowing. We tighten up. We force things. And in doing that, we block the process. We create tension. To move forward, we have to relax. And to relax... we have to breathe.”

He continued, “These errors the Guardians are making—they’re not from a lack of talent. They’ve already proven they have the ability. These errors are rooted in tension—tension in the body, which comes from the mind, which comes from the breath. When Ángel Martínez makes a high throw, it’s not just a throwing error. It’s a breathing error. His body is tight. His breath is short. And when we’re tight, we lose our focus. We stop flowing.”

I nodded again. “That makes sense. But what else can they do? It feels like they’re trapped in that state and nothing is working. Can breathing really be enough?”

“Breathing is the foundation,” the shaman said. “But it’s not the whole solution. To break free from a stuck state, we sometimes have to do something completely different. We have to experiment. We have to change something because what we are doing isn’t working. If we don’t, we stay in our comfort zone—and nothing changes there.”

He leaned forward. “Let me give you an example. I don’t play baseball, but I love to play fútbol. And my right foot is my dominant side. But sometimes, I force myself to use my left foot instead. It’s awkward at first. I feel clumsy. I have to focus. But when I train my left side, something amazing happens. My right foot improves too. Why? Because I’m building new neural connections. I’m strengthening both sides of my body—and my brain. Sometimes we have to do the opposite of what we normally do. That’s where the hidden lessons are.”

I nodded once more. “So doing something contradictory actually strengthens the whole system.”

“Exactly. Or... sometimes we have to go all the way back to the beginning. Imagine a tower you’re building. It keeps getting taller. But if the foundation is weak, eventually that tower will collapse. You have to go back and rebuild your foundation...strengthen the base...and then rebuild—stronger than before.”

I smiled. “You know, that really hits home. I was a pole vaulter in college. I remember hitting a ceiling—eventually I couldn’t jump any higher. And when that happened, I had to go back to the simplest drills. The basics. It felt silly… but it worked. I guess in baseball, that’s almost like hitting off a tee. It might sound ridiculous for a professional to return to something that basic—but if the foundation has a crack, you’ve got to go back, face it, and fix it.”

“Exactly, little brother,” the shaman said. “Now you’re learning.”

I looked up at him. “But right now, we’re sitting at .500—we’re 40 and 40. And when you look at the standings, we’re really far behind Detroit. It’s a huge mountain to climb. Honestly… it’s overwhelming.”

“Yes,” he said. “But to climb any mountain, you have to start in the valley first. That’s where every ascent begins.”

“But how do we climb it?” I asked. “How do we even begin when we’re so far down? Just thinking about it feels daunting.”

“We don’t climb by staring at the top,” he said. “If you focus only on the summit, you’ll never reach it. Because the magic isn’t at the peak. It’s in the process. Every hero in every story has to go through trials. Struggles. Pain. And that’s what prepares them for the final test. That’s what gives them the strength to eventually rise victorious. If the hero skips the struggle, they never gain the tools they need to succeed in the end.”

He looked me in the eyes.

“So don’t look at the summit. Look at your feet. Look at where you are right now. Right now, you’re in the valley. Good. That means it’s time to grow. And to leave the valley, you take just one step. You give that step your full attention. You learn the lesson that each moment offers you. And then you take the next step. Just one step at a time. And you keep going—because you are strong. Because you are capable. Because you have the power to learn, to apply the lessons, to grow—and to rise to the summit. And if you do that, little by little, you will get there.”

The shaman leaned back and smiled.

“There’s one truth in this life: everything is always changing. If you’re in the valley now—perfect! That means the ascent comes next. And when you do reach the top of the mountain, remember: that, too, will change. We aren’t meant to stay at the top forever. But if you choose to walk this path with patience, courage, and intention—

You will learn.

You will rise.

The joy will return.

And when the time is right…

You will conquer the final test.”