Mystical Practices

Common threads that unite and strengthen communities of faith shape the foundation of all mystical practice, concepts and approaches found in Sufism, Christian mysticism, Taoism, Vedanta and other systems of Yoga, Buddhism, Hermeticism, Wicca and other forms of Earth-centered spirituality, and Kabbalah.

Hulikal Nataraju, from India's Miracle Research Center, displays a piece of burning camphor on his tongue during a 2004 event titled "Secrets of Miracles" in Bangalore, India. The event was organized to show students the science behind tricks used to cheat rural people. Real fire eaters do not use a protective gel; the dangerous art involves knowing that hot air rises-and keeping it rising! Fire eating was a common part of Hindu, Saddhu, and Fakir performances to show spiritual attainment. It became a part of the standard sideshow acts in the late 1880s and is often seen as one of the entry-level skills for sideshow performers.

Other than sound fire safety precautions and some practical advice regarding the laws of physics, there are few secrets to eating fire. There is no such thing as "cold flame" nor is there any special substance in the performer's mouth other than saliva. According to Daniel Mannix's 1951 sideshow memoir Step right up!, the real "secret" to fire eating is enduring pain; he mentions that tolerating constant blisters on your tongue, lips and throat is also necessary.

Like fire walking, a bed of nails can thrill onlookers, but understanding the physics of the stunt takes away some of the "wow" factor. The trick is to use a large number of nails, thus distributing the body's weight among many points, ensuring no single nail will pierce the skin - even when a cinder block is placed on one's chest and shattered by a hammer. The most difficult aspect of the practice is learning to get into - and out of - the recumbent position safely.

A bed of nails is typically an oblong piece of wood, the size of a bed, with nails pointing upwards out of it. One use of such a device is for magic tricks or physics demonstrations. Some "beds" have rails mounted at the sides to help users lie down and get up safely. The bed of nails is also used by some for meditation, particularly in India and other parts of Asia.

Like many Asian mystical practices, fire walking is not an end in itself; it is a symbol of the mind's ability to triumph over physical reality. Skeptics point out that the hot coals are often covered by insulating ash, and that wood ash is a very poor conductor of heat. It also helps that sensible fire walkers follow the age-old advice of New York City subway motormen: Step lively!

Each May in some northern Greek villages revelers walk barefoot across a bed of burning wood coals as part of a three-day celebration in honor of Saint Constantine and Saint Helen. "They believe that the power of Saint Constantine — the religious power — allows them to do it and that that is a miracle," said Loring Danforth, an anthropologist at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine.

The festival is just one of the many events around the world in which people walk across a fire pit without getting burned. Danforth has extensively studied fire-walking rituals, including the event in northern Greece and the more recently established fire-walking movement in the U.S. As interest in fire walking has grown, he said, scientists have attempted to demystify the phenomenon and tease apart the allure of the ritual. But no amount of debunking can take away from the empowerment a fire walker can feel, Danforth says.

Tolly Burkan is the founder of the Firewalking Institute of Research and Education in Twain Harte, California. He promotes himself as the creator of the U.S. fire-walking movement, which he says dates to 1977. "I was the first person to come along and make it available to John Q. Public by offering fire-walking classes that anybody could attend," he said.

Burkan dismisses the idea that the low conductivity of coals is a reason that fire walking is possible. As evidence, he points to an incident in which members of his institute successfully walked repeatedly on a heated metal grill without getting burned. According to Burkan, the basic physical principle behind fire walking is the same that allows an egg to boil in a paper cup when placed atop red-hot coals. The boiling water keeps the cup at 212 degrees Fahrenheit (100 degrees Celsius) — hundreds of degrees cooler than paper's burning point.

Burkan says that circulating blood likewise keeps the flesh on a fire walker's feet from reaching its burning point — as long as the walker is relaxed enough to allow strong blood flow and as long as the walker keeps walking. "What controls [the ability to fire walk] is more than physics, it's your state of mind," Burkan said.

Willey, the Pittsburgh physicist, said such mind over matter theories have nothing to do with why fire walking is physically possible. He allows, though, that self-confidence is required to take that first step. "You've got to believe you're going to be OK, otherwise you wouldn't do it," he said. "But what your mind-set is has got absolutely nothing to do with whether you're going to burn or not."

Danforth, the Bates College anthropologist, said that scientific explanations do not "debunk or diminish or invalidate the value of the ritual. [Fire walking] can have the power to affirm one's life. It can change lives, give confidence, all kinds of things," he said.

Snake charming is an ancient street amusement and is now dying out in India, its homeland. Its secrets: the poisonous snake, seemingly hypnotized by the music, isresponding to the movement ofthe flute. The charmer sits just out of striking reach; some remove the fangs from their co-stars. Now stuntmen, charmers were once healers and magicians.

Once an icon of Indian culture, snake charmers today are struggling for survival — a victim, they say, of stringent wildlife protection laws and the advent of cable television. The exotic sight of these mystical men enticing snakes to dance to the soulful music of gourd flutes has long captured the imagination of people in the West. The dexterity with which the charmers handle deadly snakes such as cobras and vipers has added to the allure of the street-side performances.

Large numbers of snake charmers once could be seen walking the streets of cities and towns, their cloth-covered baskets hanging from bamboo poles slung across the shoulders. But such sights are increasingly rare, as snake charmers become an endangered species. Romulus Whitaker, a well known herpetologist and director of Draco Films in Chengalpattu, Tamil Nadu, believes snake charmers in India are declining because of the enforcement of strict wildlife laws and strident initiatives taken by animal-rights activists.

At a site near the Jhandewalan crematorium in central Delhi where snake charmers have long gathered, those who still practice the traditional art have declined by an order of ten in the last decade or so, according to observers. Om Pal Nath, an illiterate snake charmer by profession, still inhabits the site. He said his life has become very difficult since the Indian government banned the keeping of pet snakes under the Wildlife Protection Act of 1972, which was not fully implemented until the past decade. He has handled snakes since he was a child, and snake charming performances have been the only source of income for his family. Today, he said, "I am on the verge of starvation since I can only make street performances on the sly for fear of getting arrested by the police."

The country's snake charmers say that besides wildlife protection laws, another factor is also helping to drive their occupation to oblivion: the growing market of nature-oriented television programs in India. "After seeing so many wildlife shows on television, city folk are losing their fear and awe they used to have of snakes," said Pitam Nath, a traditional snake charmer from the village of Morband on the outskirts of Delhi. "At this rate," he said, sitting in the forecourt of a temple, "I will not let my own children take to snake charming."

The practice of snake charming—catching snakes, keeping them in captivity for extended periods, and training them to perform—has traditionally been passed from father to son. For generations, it has provided a critical means of support for many Indian families. Now, however, "the younger generation no more considers it lucrative enough to make it a source of living," said Suresh Sharma, a herpetologist from Punjab. "I have seen a colony of snake charmers opting for rag-picking, collection of iron waste, polythene, and so on because it gives them a better remuneration."

Part of the problem, he explained, is that in an age of reality television, people are more skeptical of a practice that was once regarded as mystical and in some cases even divinely influenced. "Before the advent of Discovery Channel and National Geographic Channel, people could be hoodwinked by all sorts of concocted stories. Now it is hard to do," said Sharma. "People have started learning so much about snakes that it is not possible to fool people. They have started learning that there is no need to panic when you see a snake, that snakes are not as bad as they have been depicted by snake charmers." As a result, snake charmers have lost respect, he said. "People knew that if there was a snake at home, then it was the snake charmer who was God sent to save our life. Now people treat them on par with beggars."

A snake charmer usually rouses a snake by playing a long flute-like instrument in front of it. The snake appears to dance in response to the music. But according to herpetologists, snakes are unable to hear sounds in the same frequency band as humans. So, scientists say, what is perceived as a choreographed dance to the music is actually the snake reacting to the movement of the instrument.

S. K. Saraswat, a zoologist and director of the National Museum of Natural History in New Delhi, believes another factor that's contributing to the decline of snake charmers is that children today are too preoccupied by other interests to view snake charming with wonder. Recalling his own childhood, Saraswat said he used to have so much leisure time that watching a snake charmer's performance was irresistible anytime the sound of a flute was heard. But children now are so burdened with schoolwork that finding time to watch a performance is rare, he said.

Ram Nath, an aging snake charmer with a flowing white beard, said that a decade ago in his ancestral village of Rajpura, 50 kilometers west of Delhi, the heads of all the 200 or so families who lived there practiced a single occupation: snake charming. In recent years, however, only about ten percent continue the business, and earning a living has become almost impossible.

A similar lament is expressed by Durga Nath, the father of three children. He supplements his income from snake charming by selling traditional medicines, but still makes only about a dollar a day. Saraswat predicts that given the rapid attrition in the number of snake charmers, the specialized community of Rajpura could eventually disappear. "Snake charmers are becoming a rare sight even in villages," he said.

John Roach / Pallava Bagla. Why Fire Walking Doesn't Burn: Science or Spirituality? / India's Snake Charmers Fade, Blaming Eco-Laws, TV. . September 1, 2005 / April 23, 2002.

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