In most cultures there are stories about the power of the word. In the Norse tradition, galder and seid were used to shape reality – both to heal and to harm. In Sámi and northern shamanism, people often speak of gann – a form of energy or thought transmission that can affect others, consciously or unconsciously. Gann can be strong, magnetic and targeted. It can be sent through a prayer, a curse – or just as easily through a word.
When people speak about one another with clenched jaws and sharp tongues, something happens in the energetic space. What on the surface may seem like "just talk" – small comments, exchanges of opinion or trivial observations – can in reality be powerful movements of energy with effects far beyond what the speaker understands.
In shamanic work, one learns early that energy follows attention. Where the thought goes, so too goes the power. Thus what our modern world calls backbiting becomes, in practice, a form of unconscious magic – and in some cases a dark form of it. Not because it is necessarily evil, but because it springs from fear, insecurity and the need to lift oneself up by dragging others down.
The psychology of backbiting – a portrait of fear
The one who backbites often does not act out of ill will alone. Behind the words lies an urge to protect one's own self-image, a fear of being exposed, abandoned or overlooked. When someone feels small, out of control, or threatened by another's light and strength, the simplest strategy for the ego can become an attempt to dim the other's radiance.
This dynamic is ancient. In many spiritual traditions it is described as a "lack of centering" – a state in which one has lost contact with one's true self and seeks to regain power through indirect means. One manipulates energy through words, narratives and half-truths. One builds ego, not spirit.
Often this arises in close relationships where trust once existed. When a person feels hurt or rejected, the fear of losing status or the relationship can transform into an urge to "get even." What could have been vulnerability turns into defense and projection. Instead of seeing one's own contribution to a rupture or conflict, one turns the attention outward – and tries to restore balance by speaking the other "smaller."
But the shaman knows: energy sent out in fear always returns. It spins like a boomerang through the energy field – and will, sooner or later, demand balance.
When words become energy
In shamanic understanding, language is not just sound. Every word carries vibration with it. In our voice lies intention, and in the intention – power. This means that when we speak about someone, we are in reality sending out a bundle of vibrations in that person's direction. These vibrations can be warm and supportive, or cold and toxic.
When someone backbites with a mixture of envy and malicious glee, the words take shape as small arrows of energy. They carry a charge – not only mentally, but also emotionally. In energetic terms this creates an imbalance between the one who speaks and the one who is spoken of. The one who sends such arrows gradually loses power, because one splits one's own energy in two – one part held in the fear, and one part sent out into the struggle for control.
Thus the power of gann grows – not as a conscious curse, but as an unintended distortion of the energy flow. It happens because one lets low-frequency emotions such as jealousy, anger or fear govern consciousness. The ancients knew this: you do not need to perform rituals to gann; it is enough to put words to something you truly wish to harm or weaken.
When this happens between people who once stood close to one another, the effect is amplified. Energetic bonds between former friends, family or colleagues function as channels. Once they were filled with love, but when fear takes the room, the same channel can be used to draw energy in the opposite direction.
When the helper becomes the target
A particularly painful pattern arises when the backbiting is directed at a person who has actually helped the one now speaking negatively. Many shamans and helpers recognize this experience. They give time, energy and care – but when, after a while, they set boundaries or see that the relationship is imbalanced, the feeling turns. The one who was helped suddenly experiences the help as a mirror they can no longer bear to look into.
Where the help once created safety, it now feels like a threat. Instead of gratitude, shame arises – and from there it is a short way to projection. One wants to protect one's own image, and the story "the other is the problem" becomes a shield against feeling the unrest that truly belongs within oneself.
For the one who is backbitten in such a dynamic, it feels like a betrayal. But seen from an energetic standpoint, it is also a liberation. When one works in light and truth, relationships built on fear and dependency will inevitably crack. It is like the way the darkness withdraws as the sun rises.
Such situations teach the shaman not to react, but to observe. Words cannot stop energy, but stillness can lead it back to the sender. The one who backbites will sooner or later meet their own outgoing force – often in the form of emptiness or the loss of others' trust.
The fear that drives it all
What, then, does this fear consist of, the fear that so often lies behind gossip and slander?
It has many faces:
The fear of invisibility. When someone feels that their own voice is not heard, talking about others can become a way to reclaim attention.
The fear that someone will take one's place – because they shine more brightly, perform more strongly, or simply carry a light that makes one's own pale in comparison.
The fear of losing control. When the world feels unpredictable, one may try to create "order" by mapping out others' faults – so that one appears safe and unaffected oneself.
The fear of exposure. When one carries sides of oneself that one will not acknowledge, it becomes easier to point at others' weaknesses than to see one's own.
The fear of losing belonging. Many use gossip as social currency. By sharing stories about others, one tries to secure one's place in the flock – an ancient instinct from times when being cast out meant death.
From a shamanic standpoint, all of these fears are expressions of the same thing: a loss of energetic centering. When our roots lose contact with the earth, we begin to seek power from outside. Then we also lose trust in our own inner fire – our inner drum, as many say. The result becomes a desperate attempt to find balance in the energy of others.
When fear finds a choir
In the beginning there is usually one voice. One person who, driven by fear and the need for affirmation, begins to share their story about another. But words have a sound of their own – and this sound often calls for resonance. Before you know it, several have begun to hum the same melody.
When the backbiter brings others along, a field arises – a kind of collective echo. What was previously an individual imbalance now becomes a group pattern. Energetically, the field gathers around a common frequency: distrust, indignation, or a sense of "justice." In reality it is fear that has taken its place at the fire, and now it feeds on the many small sparks of unconsciousness from each participant.
From a psychological perspective, such groups can seem unifying. They give the participants an illusion of belonging – "we who know," "we who see clearly." But from a shamanic standpoint, something quite different is happening: the group forms an energy field that affects not only the one being talked about, but also everyone who takes part.
Energy that springs from low-frequency emotions is like smoke in a tent. It slowly fills the room, and everyone sitting there begins to breathe the same air. This explains why, after a meeting marked by gossip, one often feels drained, heavy or sad – even if one perhaps only "listened" without saying much. The field affects everyone. The words become carriers of a kind of shared unconscious magic, where the energy of one emotion is multiplied by many.
In traditional shamanic societies, such processes were taken with the utmost seriousness. People knew that energy gathered in a group could heal, but also harm. That is why it was a sacred practice to keep speech and thought clean: not for moral perfection, but to protect the life force of the community.
When a group gathers in negativity, the energy begins to run in a circle. It draws to itself more of the same frequency – like a small storm field. Those who take part are linked together through this darker web of thought forms. In the shaman's vision, it may appear as a tangle of gray threads between people, densely packed and sticky. They bind the energy, make it hard to breathe freely, and blur the difference between what is true and what is merely fear.
But just as surely, the potential for healing lies within this. For the moment one in the group awakens and breaks the pattern – refuses to feed the story – the wind begins to turn. The field weakens, the smoke lifts, and light gets in. The one who rises from the fire of words helps not only themselves, but cleanses the entire field.
Thus the collective dynamic of gossip reminds us that magic is never individual. Every thought, every nod and every silence takes part in the energy that is created. When we choose stillness, compassion and truth, not only does our own frequency change – the resonance of the whole group shifts.
Then the tongue once again becomes a tool for light, and the fire at the hearth warms instead of burns.
Energetic consequences
In the shamanic tradition, energy is understood as living and intelligent. It reflects the consciousness behind the action. When one speaks ill of others, a temporary bond is established between the speaker and the one spoken of. This bond is loaded with low-frequency vibrations – fear, envy, guilt, shame – which gradually weigh down the energy field of the one who created it.
The consequences are experienced differently:
The speaker may feel empty, irritable or drained.
Relationships in the immediate circle may begin to stagnate or wither.
Manifestations and intentions lose power, because the energy leaks out through the words one has sent out.
The shaman knows that all such energy must find balance. It returns, not as punishment, but as learning. That is why certain people who constantly spread gossip gradually end up in isolation or lose credibility. Their energy field has taught them what happens when words are used to manipulate rather than to lift.
Cleansing and responsibility
When you become the target of backbiting, the first instinct is often to defend yourself – to explain, defend or fight for the truth. But in the shaman's practice, the power lies in standing still in your own light, in withdrawing. But do not be too hard on yourself; remember you are human too. The stillness will call the light back.
Cleansing can take place on many levels: through drumming, a fire ceremony, washing with smoke or water, or simply by turning your attention to the heart and saying: I give back what is not mine.
For the one who discovers that they themselves have fallen into the current of gossip, the journey begins with acknowledgment. No one is immune to fear, and anyone can be caught in the need to be seen. But once you understand the mechanism, you can choose anew. You can call your power home, withdraw the words, and cleanse the bonds that were created. In that process, integrity grows, and fear loses its grip.
A word as healing
Shamanic work is not only about exposing darkness, but about integrating it. The same word that was used to wound can be used to heal. When we speak truly, with the heart open, our words are like shining sprouts that restore balance.
That is why many shamans learn to use speech as a form of light-gann – a positive transmission of energy, in which one sends good thoughts, forgiveness or thanks. This practice transforms the field not only for the other, but also for oneself. For in truth there are not two fields, but one. When you lift another person with your words, you also raise your own frequency.
Backbiting and gossip work in the hidden, but they affect both individuals and entire communities. From a shamanic perspective, this is no trifle – it is real energy exchange, a form of low-frequency magic that wears on both parties.
The one who truly walks in balance knows that every thought is a prayer, every word a power. That is why stillness and sincerity become such precious tools. When we learn to meet the fear within ourselves with love, the need for backbiting loses its power.
The word once again becomes what it was always meant to be – a song to life.
This article is based on the author's own experiences and understandings from shamanic practice, and should be read as a spiritual and reflective perspective – not as an absolute truth.
