I'm finally starting to learn that when I'm off-kilter, I'm not alone and that there are bigger forces and patterns going on. This past week, for instance, has been pretty turbulent, but at the same time that I'm riding from the crest to the trough to the crest of the waves again, I'm noticing a lot of topsy-turviness in the lives of friends around me. Two different friends ended relationships on the same day, and another friend found out she has to move because the government is buying her land for a levee. Crazy life-changing stuff.
Still, whatever is going on, I need to deal with my own manifestations of this energy of change, and I have to admit to not dealing with it very gracefully. Deep, dark things have been coming up --things left over from childhood that I thought I'd dealt with. Self-criticism and judgement have fueled heavy feelings of worthlessness and sapped any sense of confidence. Today I found myself exhausted and totally stressed out, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Finally, on my lunch break, I went out to my car intending to nap, but as I dozed in and out I decided to contact the soul part of my four year old self, who had recently returned in a soul retrieval, to see how he was faring through all of this.
I found my four year old at a table drawing and coloring (If I remember correctly, this was my Kindergarten classroom). I sat in a miniature chair next to his low table and started asking him how he was doing. "I'm fine!" He said, too engrossed in his artwork to look up, at least until he finished his drawing of some sort of vehicle that I couldn't make out, and held the paper up horizontally with both hands, excitedly repeating, "Brum!Brum!Brum!" as he turned it back and forth like it was flying.
He returned to his crayons as I asked if he knew what was going on. He looked up at me then with this "I'm sorry, I thought you knew" kind of look on his face. I don't recall his exact words, but he explained how these things are coming up because of his return into my life. All the junk that had collected and had basically taken up the space left by his absence, was now being flushed to the surface by his reappearance -- like Archimedes' bath water -- to be cleared away.
I thought about this as he went back to drawing. It made sense. It wasn't easy and, at times, was even kind of scary, but it did make sense. And while I pondered this further I felt a tug on my sleeve. Young Patrick had turned away from his table and, still holding my shirt sleeve in his little hand and looking into my eyes with a total expression of earnestness, he told me, "Don't be scared. I will protect you."
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Dis Members Only
Whenever I hear someone say, "I want to be a Shaman!" I just have to shake my head, and whether I say it out loud or not, I think, "No, I don't think you do." I don't think a lot of people have the complete picture of what shamanism encompasses.
First of all, it truly is not something you can choose. It chooses you. I think about growing up Catholic, and particularly in my family where we were very close friends to many of the parish priests and nuns. I learned at an early age what a vocation was, listening to these holy people talk about their individual callings to the sacred life, and their feelings of "coming home" when they answered that call. Indeed, I felt a resonance with them, having heard a spiritual calling from an early age. My mom tells me the priest who baptized me did so fully convinced I was destined for the priesthood. As a boy I had the entire Mass memorized and I would mouth the words along with the priest. Even in college, at a Benedictine Monastery, I very seriously considered entering the brotherhood and becoming a monk. Eventually my path took me beyond the parameters of the Church and further down my 'Golden Thread Road' to a more shamanic context of spiritual clergy, but the spiritual calling was always there. To deny it is to deny myself. It's who I am, not what I do.
But besides all of that, and despite the romanticized image and the rewards of living the Way of the Shaman -- And I am the first to sing the praises of the shamanic life with all its beauty, and depth, and meaning, and healing -- it is not for the faint of heart. I've heard it said that shamanism is a continuous chain of deaths, but you don't usually read about that in the owner's manual. In fact, in many cultures, to become a shaman you have to literally be brought to the brink of death, via an accident or disease or whatever, and through spiritual means return to the land of the living. This is why shamans are often called "The Wounded Healers." And in most culures, or so I've heard, when one realizes they are being called to be a shaman the reaction tends to be more of an, "Oh crap!" rather than a "Woo-hoo!"
It has been quite the challenging winter, as winters seem to tend to be for me, but with Imbolc (February 2nd, and the first day of spring on the Wheel of the Year) in sight I believed I had weathered it, and, in any case, it was coming to an end with brighter days ahead -- literally. This sigh of relief was short-lived, however. On the day of Imbolc itself there was a seemingly minor incident at my day-job, but it set off a chain reaction in me that was colossal, rending the illusions of my life and bringing into sharp focus what was real, and how I could no longer pretend to give validity to what wasn't. It was a very snake-like vision, watching parts of my life shred around me and slough off like a snake's skin as I grew beyond them and they could no longer contain me. It was a freeing yet scary experience, and I can hardly put into words the clarity of reaching for this light -- my light -- my essence -- for it is the only reality. Yet it was quite disorienting, for my material/physical life no longer seemed to fit, and though I had this guiding light, what I could expect in my day-to-day life was in total darkness. I had no idea what it might look like and what changes would occur. In an act of surrender I needed to let go of everything I knew. Everything! It reminds me of a saying from A Course In Miracles, "Nothing real can be threatened, nothing un-real exists." The only thing that was real at that point was me, my essence, the Truth of my Being. Everything else was transitional, a dream, shadows on the wall.
That night at the Imbolc ritual of my adopted coven, I barely held back the tears as we stood around Brigit's cauldron, ablaze with flames of blue, and in my turn prayed my intentions for the year to surrender to my path, the path of my heart -- which is the heart of the Goddess.
From that point the shadows only deepened. I was attempting to go off zoloft for a more natural alternative, and though it was a more controlled fall than the last time I tried, it was still a slow descent into the underworld. Both my mental and emotional realms (air and water) became unstable and unreliable. I lost touch with my passions and motivation for doing things (fire) and I began questioning whether I could even take care of myself and hold down my job (earth). So here were all four elements spinning around me tumultuously, and it was very difficult not to get caught up in the storm. But the 5th element, Spirit in the center, the eye of the storm, was still, as always, a safe port. How many times in the past has Artemis talked to me about being the Eye of the Storm?
With the help of returning to my original medication and an awesome soul retrieval, I began a slow crawl out of the depths and, though a bit disappointed at the prospect of going back on a pharmaceutical, I heard the wisdom in a friend's comment that, "were this diabetes and insulin we were talking about, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
During this time I also reached out and left a phone message with a dear, shamanic practitioner friend, and received a beautiful email in response which included the following wisdom:
I know the discouragement your voice portrayed. I too have spent many times trying to get off of zoloft to no avail. It has been a really hard road and difficult to think that after all of this amazing work I do I still can't shake deep dark depression. You are amazing, patrick. Your light is huge and your laugh is medicine for the world. I don't know what all this means that we sensitive types also need medication to live in this world, but I do know it is damn important we are here.
This encouragement uplifted and carried me considerably!
Finally, in the past couple weeks especially, I have returned from the underworld, Persephone emerging into the light, and the word that most seems to fit me now is "reborn." Then it struck me. This has all been one, long, slow-motion, dismemberment!
Dismemberment is something that happens in shamanism, but I hadn't really considered it outside of a shamanic journey. In a dismemberment journey one of your guides basically takes you completely apart, down to the atoms, in order to put you back together better and stronger than you were before (insert 70s flashback to The Six-Million Dollar Man and "We can rebuild him. We have the technology."). It can seem kind of gruesome and shocking if you don't know what is going on, but it is painless and when you surrender to it, it is so healing. I've had Nathaniel, my reindeer, rip me apart with his antlers (and in one odd journey I watched the inside of his mouth light up just before he blasted me Godzilla-style, instantly dematerializing me) and the amazing thing is realizing that even without a body, I was still there. Once you're put back together, it's like the feeling after a good dental cleaning. Everything that isn't actually part of you has been cleared away from between every atom and you are fresh, new, and feeling stronger than before.
And that is exactly where I am now. I feel stronger, more confident, and happier than I did before this 'real life' dismemberment journey began, and am excitedly looking forward to the near future and stepping into my power as I officially open my shamanic practice.
Shamanism may be "a continous chain of deaths" but then it is also a continuous chain of rebirths. It is both, in an ever turning cycle, while in the center of it all sits the unwavering Spirit, the eye of the storm, and our true, indestructible identity. It is a whole, and must be considered in it's entirety when embarking on the shamanic life. To live shamanically you must be willing to die repeatedly to everything you thought you knew, thought you were, up to that point. You must be willing to be dis-membered in order to re-member who you truly are.
"Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found."
~Pema Chodron
First of all, it truly is not something you can choose. It chooses you. I think about growing up Catholic, and particularly in my family where we were very close friends to many of the parish priests and nuns. I learned at an early age what a vocation was, listening to these holy people talk about their individual callings to the sacred life, and their feelings of "coming home" when they answered that call. Indeed, I felt a resonance with them, having heard a spiritual calling from an early age. My mom tells me the priest who baptized me did so fully convinced I was destined for the priesthood. As a boy I had the entire Mass memorized and I would mouth the words along with the priest. Even in college, at a Benedictine Monastery, I very seriously considered entering the brotherhood and becoming a monk. Eventually my path took me beyond the parameters of the Church and further down my 'Golden Thread Road' to a more shamanic context of spiritual clergy, but the spiritual calling was always there. To deny it is to deny myself. It's who I am, not what I do.
But besides all of that, and despite the romanticized image and the rewards of living the Way of the Shaman -- And I am the first to sing the praises of the shamanic life with all its beauty, and depth, and meaning, and healing -- it is not for the faint of heart. I've heard it said that shamanism is a continuous chain of deaths, but you don't usually read about that in the owner's manual. In fact, in many cultures, to become a shaman you have to literally be brought to the brink of death, via an accident or disease or whatever, and through spiritual means return to the land of the living. This is why shamans are often called "The Wounded Healers." And in most culures, or so I've heard, when one realizes they are being called to be a shaman the reaction tends to be more of an, "Oh crap!" rather than a "Woo-hoo!"
It has been quite the challenging winter, as winters seem to tend to be for me, but with Imbolc (February 2nd, and the first day of spring on the Wheel of the Year) in sight I believed I had weathered it, and, in any case, it was coming to an end with brighter days ahead -- literally. This sigh of relief was short-lived, however. On the day of Imbolc itself there was a seemingly minor incident at my day-job, but it set off a chain reaction in me that was colossal, rending the illusions of my life and bringing into sharp focus what was real, and how I could no longer pretend to give validity to what wasn't. It was a very snake-like vision, watching parts of my life shred around me and slough off like a snake's skin as I grew beyond them and they could no longer contain me. It was a freeing yet scary experience, and I can hardly put into words the clarity of reaching for this light -- my light -- my essence -- for it is the only reality. Yet it was quite disorienting, for my material/physical life no longer seemed to fit, and though I had this guiding light, what I could expect in my day-to-day life was in total darkness. I had no idea what it might look like and what changes would occur. In an act of surrender I needed to let go of everything I knew. Everything! It reminds me of a saying from A Course In Miracles, "Nothing real can be threatened, nothing un-real exists." The only thing that was real at that point was me, my essence, the Truth of my Being. Everything else was transitional, a dream, shadows on the wall.
That night at the Imbolc ritual of my adopted coven, I barely held back the tears as we stood around Brigit's cauldron, ablaze with flames of blue, and in my turn prayed my intentions for the year to surrender to my path, the path of my heart -- which is the heart of the Goddess.
From that point the shadows only deepened. I was attempting to go off zoloft for a more natural alternative, and though it was a more controlled fall than the last time I tried, it was still a slow descent into the underworld. Both my mental and emotional realms (air and water) became unstable and unreliable. I lost touch with my passions and motivation for doing things (fire) and I began questioning whether I could even take care of myself and hold down my job (earth). So here were all four elements spinning around me tumultuously, and it was very difficult not to get caught up in the storm. But the 5th element, Spirit in the center, the eye of the storm, was still, as always, a safe port. How many times in the past has Artemis talked to me about being the Eye of the Storm?
With the help of returning to my original medication and an awesome soul retrieval, I began a slow crawl out of the depths and, though a bit disappointed at the prospect of going back on a pharmaceutical, I heard the wisdom in a friend's comment that, "were this diabetes and insulin we were talking about, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
During this time I also reached out and left a phone message with a dear, shamanic practitioner friend, and received a beautiful email in response which included the following wisdom:
I know the discouragement your voice portrayed. I too have spent many times trying to get off of zoloft to no avail. It has been a really hard road and difficult to think that after all of this amazing work I do I still can't shake deep dark depression. You are amazing, patrick. Your light is huge and your laugh is medicine for the world. I don't know what all this means that we sensitive types also need medication to live in this world, but I do know it is damn important we are here.
This encouragement uplifted and carried me considerably!
Finally, in the past couple weeks especially, I have returned from the underworld, Persephone emerging into the light, and the word that most seems to fit me now is "reborn." Then it struck me. This has all been one, long, slow-motion, dismemberment!
Dismemberment is something that happens in shamanism, but I hadn't really considered it outside of a shamanic journey. In a dismemberment journey one of your guides basically takes you completely apart, down to the atoms, in order to put you back together better and stronger than you were before (insert 70s flashback to The Six-Million Dollar Man and "We can rebuild him. We have the technology."). It can seem kind of gruesome and shocking if you don't know what is going on, but it is painless and when you surrender to it, it is so healing. I've had Nathaniel, my reindeer, rip me apart with his antlers (and in one odd journey I watched the inside of his mouth light up just before he blasted me Godzilla-style, instantly dematerializing me) and the amazing thing is realizing that even without a body, I was still there. Once you're put back together, it's like the feeling after a good dental cleaning. Everything that isn't actually part of you has been cleared away from between every atom and you are fresh, new, and feeling stronger than before.
And that is exactly where I am now. I feel stronger, more confident, and happier than I did before this 'real life' dismemberment journey began, and am excitedly looking forward to the near future and stepping into my power as I officially open my shamanic practice.
Shamanism may be "a continous chain of deaths" but then it is also a continuous chain of rebirths. It is both, in an ever turning cycle, while in the center of it all sits the unwavering Spirit, the eye of the storm, and our true, indestructible identity. It is a whole, and must be considered in it's entirety when embarking on the shamanic life. To live shamanically you must be willing to die repeatedly to everything you thought you knew, thought you were, up to that point. You must be willing to be dis-membered in order to re-member who you truly are.
"Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found."
~Pema Chodron
Lex Luthor's Grand Revelation
I'm a cartoonist. So it should come as no surprise that I enjoy superhero movies and cartoons. Well, the other night I watched a movie called All Star Superman, based on a comic by the same name, and it brought home why I've always identified with Superman more than with Batman. I mean the darkness does have its allure, and I even remember a childhood dream where I was Batman, but I just am not a creature of the darkness -- of the night. And it's interesting that Batman's totem is the symbol for shamanic death -- which is a transitional state. I have been through the dark, but I don't live there.
On the other hand this movie brought to light, literally, what things look like from Superman's perspective. In fact, it was the undoing of Lex Luthor, Superman's Arch nemesis. The main point that I love about the story is that Lex concocts a serum that will give him Superman's power for 24 hours. As he is poised and on the brink of taking over the world, he stops. Suddenly he can see the world the way Superman sees it all the time -- the entire electromagnetic spectrum, atoms, clouds of possibilities and the fact that every thing -- every one -- is connected. Suddenly there is no point to taking over the world. How can you be anything but benevolent when you can see -- physically see -- that we are all one? What is left to take over?
I love when spirituality/quantum-physics shows up in our modern mythology of movies, television, books, and comics. In a way superheroes are some of the gods of our age, whose stories thrill us, and teach us, just as stories around the campfire have done for countless eons. They give us a glimpse into our humanness as well as give us not just the inspiration to move beyond our perceived limits, but the blue-print on how to do it.
So, speaking from my comic-book-geek-fan-boy, I understand now being more drawn to Superman, whose world view is based on unity and wholeness, than Batman, whose world view is based on separation.
And then there's Wonder Woman. She is something else all together. But I will reserve that, as well as Batman and Shamanic Death, for another time. :)
On the other hand this movie brought to light, literally, what things look like from Superman's perspective. In fact, it was the undoing of Lex Luthor, Superman's Arch nemesis. The main point that I love about the story is that Lex concocts a serum that will give him Superman's power for 24 hours. As he is poised and on the brink of taking over the world, he stops. Suddenly he can see the world the way Superman sees it all the time -- the entire electromagnetic spectrum, atoms, clouds of possibilities and the fact that every thing -- every one -- is connected. Suddenly there is no point to taking over the world. How can you be anything but benevolent when you can see -- physically see -- that we are all one? What is left to take over?
I love when spirituality/quantum-physics shows up in our modern mythology of movies, television, books, and comics. In a way superheroes are some of the gods of our age, whose stories thrill us, and teach us, just as stories around the campfire have done for countless eons. They give us a glimpse into our humanness as well as give us not just the inspiration to move beyond our perceived limits, but the blue-print on how to do it.
So, speaking from my comic-book-geek-fan-boy, I understand now being more drawn to Superman, whose world view is based on unity and wholeness, than Batman, whose world view is based on separation.
And then there's Wonder Woman. She is something else all together. But I will reserve that, as well as Batman and Shamanic Death, for another time. :)
Thursday, March 8, 2012
...M - O - U - S - E
Earlier this year I did a Medicine Card spread for myself to find out what I needed to know at that point. I even went to the trouble of laying the cards out on a piece of leather, clicking a photo of it, and uploading it here as a draft, intending to come back later and write about it. Stuff happens and time passes. Then out of curiosity I look into this draft of a post to find just this photo (well, and I had written "LA LA LA" over it... ) and, considering all the time that's passed since I had originally intended to write about this reading, I was about to delete it, when I looked at it again. Holy crap! This particular reading has as much, if not more, meaning to me now as it did the month or two ago that I'd done it.
So this is how I read it --
Balancing this in the West, the realm of water and emotion is Coyote, the trickster. His medicine is about the need to lighten up, usually manifesting itself in the 'Wile E' style of tripping oneself up or getting caught in one's own snares. Probably indicates some turbulence and confusion, though in the upright position shows purpose in the chaos.
And balancing this in the North is Porcupine. This is where it gets really interesting. Porcupine is basically the inner child, full of innocence and playfulness. It speaks of a return to the simplicity of a child, and seeing the world with eyes of wonder and adventure. Now, I had no plans for this at the time of the reading, but a couple of weeks ago I received a soul retrieval, and I was reunited with my four year old self. The shamanic practitioner who did this for me saw my four year old running through the woods, with a total sense of freedom, as well as knowing my oneness with everything around me -- the essence of Porcupine!
Finally, in the Center, the hub of the wheel that connects all the other directions, sits Mouse. Mouse is about paying attention to whats in front of you, the here-and-now, and your own little world. It is staying centered and cleaning your own house, so there's no room for empires here. Lay low and let the bigger picture take care of itself. I have things to do, at a fundamental level of my personal world, before I can move forward with any plans of world domination (insert "Pinky and the Brain" theme song here).
And now, more complete with my child-like heart at the wheel, I set out to focus on taking care of myself -- who I am becoming and what I am called to do, not what I'm suppose to do, once more at the center of my own life, learning not to sweat the small stuff and let the big stuff take care of itself.
In the East, the realm of air and mind, reversed, is Elk. Elk medicine is about power and stamina, Elk's main defense being running and out distancing any predators, so in reverse this shows a lack of those qualities, and perhaps the need not to run.
I see these two working together -- I've got a lot of career plans for the near future and have been in a hurry to get going on them, to the point of feeling behind schedule, but this combination was showing me to slow down. I recently tried to go off of zoloft, which I've been on for about seven years, and, with the help of my Naturopath, try some more natural alternatives. I ended up back on zoloft and the past couple months have been a bit turbulent emotionally -- all my energy going to balancing my emotional self -- so I have not had the mental focus to stride ahead with my empire building intentions.
Then in the South, the place of fire, passion, and action flies Hummingbird. "Follow your bliss," she hums in my ear. "Do what brings you joy!" This comes as I question everything, including what it is I truly want to do with my life. Recently things have started taking on the feeling of duty, like some outside higher authority is dictating that I must do and become certain things, and some of that was bleeding into my career aspirations. And I had a realization somewhere in the past couple months that all I've ever wanted to do is draw comics. That is my joy. That is my bliss. And I am passionate about shamanism. I just need to follow my heart and not worry about living up to outside standards of what any of that should look like. My heart is my authority.
And balancing this in the North is Porcupine. This is where it gets really interesting. Porcupine is basically the inner child, full of innocence and playfulness. It speaks of a return to the simplicity of a child, and seeing the world with eyes of wonder and adventure. Now, I had no plans for this at the time of the reading, but a couple of weeks ago I received a soul retrieval, and I was reunited with my four year old self. The shamanic practitioner who did this for me saw my four year old running through the woods, with a total sense of freedom, as well as knowing my oneness with everything around me -- the essence of Porcupine!
Finally, in the Center, the hub of the wheel that connects all the other directions, sits Mouse. Mouse is about paying attention to whats in front of you, the here-and-now, and your own little world. It is staying centered and cleaning your own house, so there's no room for empires here. Lay low and let the bigger picture take care of itself. I have things to do, at a fundamental level of my personal world, before I can move forward with any plans of world domination (insert "Pinky and the Brain" theme song here).
So it is interesting that, having forgotten about this reading, I have lived it, being rather sequestered for a number of months in my own little world, seeking out my joy, as well as a balance of my mental and emotional realms. And as the haze begins to clear from my mind, a hint of happiness and freedom bubbles to the surface and I remember I don't have to save the world. As Sandra Ingerman says -- "It's not what you do but who you become that changes the world."
And now, more complete with my child-like heart at the wheel, I set out to focus on taking care of myself -- who I am becoming and what I am called to do, not what I'm suppose to do, once more at the center of my own life, learning not to sweat the small stuff and let the big stuff take care of itself.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
2012 -- Year of the Cormorant
So much has happened in my life in 2011, accelerating particularly during the latter half of the year, and I'm feeling poised on a launch pad of sorts waiting for things to really take off. And something keeps telling me, "THIS is the year!"
New Year's Eve, and I found myself extremely restless. I had to get out of my apartment and found myself at the nearby park, looking over the still waters of Clark Lake at Grandmother Moon, and speaking to Her of all the things I had to be grateful for over the past year...
A couple weeks prior, realizing all the growth I'd been through and the significance of the possibilities of all the things to come that perched somewhere on my horizon, I recognized the timing was right for a rite of passage for cleansing and releasing the past in order to move uninhibitedly into the coming year. Enter a sweat lodge ceremony at a magickal place I knew of on Bainbridge Island in Puget Sound. It had been a while since I'd been in a sweat lodge, but I found myself excited, and a bit nervous, at the prospect of such a perfect ritual with such perfect timing. Even as we were taking our turns touching our heads to the ground at the door of the lodge with a prayer, "Aho Matakwiasin, All My Relations," and crawling into our places in this womb of the earth, I was nervous and excited.
It is an amazing thing to sit in the semi-dark with like-minded folks in the trust and innocence of nakedness as the glowing stones are passed through the small door into the pit at the center of the lodge, the kiss of sweet grass and lavender upon the stones tingeing the air with invigorating and soothing scents, before the door is closed, leaving us in total darkness aside from the stone people's soft, orange glow. Then the water sings on the heated surfaces with a woosh of billowing steam a mere moment before the wave of heat hits my body, and I breathe the hot dampness through my mouth all the way into my lungs, realizing that sweat is pouring out of my every pore. My hands dig into the coolness of the earth to balance the heat, and I roar, and cry, and sing, the river of sweat carrying from me all that needs to be released to make room for the blessings and promises of the new year.
After two of the four rounds I check with my guides and, feeling my time inside the lodge is complete, I leave, again pausing at the door to touch my forehead to the earth and whisper a prayer to All My Relations. Then, after the exhiliration and freedom of literally running naked through the woods, I put on a robe and take a place next to fire where the lodge stones are being heated, feeling cleaned out and content.
Once the the lodge is finished and everyone is in various states of getting dressed and gathering their things, I head up to the main house where we will share a pot luck meal, and stepping out of the meadow into the trees, am struck by the pure enchantment of the woodland path being lit by the half-full moon. That took my breath away even more than the lodge itself did.
Once home, one of the first things I reach for is a book on Animal Spirit Guides. On my way across the Sound that morning, standing on the bow of the ferry, a movement caught my eye, and I watched a cormorant sail in a graceful arc right in front of the boat, just inches above the water. First animal guide of the year! I wonder if it will set the tone of 2012 for me. The full significance of this didn't strike me, though, until I opened the book to find out what Cormorant medicine was.
Aside from the lesson I'm already aware of, and taking care of, of taking breaks for myself between work and projects (cormorants are famous for standing in the sun after fishing in order for their outstretched wings to dry), the main power this bird brings is the ability to reach and attain seemingly impossible dreams...
...THIS is the year!
New Year's Eve, and I found myself extremely restless. I had to get out of my apartment and found myself at the nearby park, looking over the still waters of Clark Lake at Grandmother Moon, and speaking to Her of all the things I had to be grateful for over the past year...
- I have published some of my comics through an online publisher
- I was able to strengthen my path by taking courses from a couple of shamanic teachers whom I've admired for a very long time
- In one aforementioned course I learned Soul Retrieval, which, besides making me feel like an "official" Shamanic Practitioner, allowed me to witness and experience amazing results in people's lives
- Another course allowed me to expand my horizons by arranging my own flight and accommodations, which were not only not to Minnesota to visit family, but were to a state and city I'd never been to before
- In the aforementioned course I met someone who could very well be the love of my life
- After the aforementioned course I was accepted into Sandra Ingerman's Two Year Teachers Training program
- I taught my first Shamanic class
A couple weeks prior, realizing all the growth I'd been through and the significance of the possibilities of all the things to come that perched somewhere on my horizon, I recognized the timing was right for a rite of passage for cleansing and releasing the past in order to move uninhibitedly into the coming year. Enter a sweat lodge ceremony at a magickal place I knew of on Bainbridge Island in Puget Sound. It had been a while since I'd been in a sweat lodge, but I found myself excited, and a bit nervous, at the prospect of such a perfect ritual with such perfect timing. Even as we were taking our turns touching our heads to the ground at the door of the lodge with a prayer, "Aho Matakwiasin, All My Relations," and crawling into our places in this womb of the earth, I was nervous and excited.
It is an amazing thing to sit in the semi-dark with like-minded folks in the trust and innocence of nakedness as the glowing stones are passed through the small door into the pit at the center of the lodge, the kiss of sweet grass and lavender upon the stones tingeing the air with invigorating and soothing scents, before the door is closed, leaving us in total darkness aside from the stone people's soft, orange glow. Then the water sings on the heated surfaces with a woosh of billowing steam a mere moment before the wave of heat hits my body, and I breathe the hot dampness through my mouth all the way into my lungs, realizing that sweat is pouring out of my every pore. My hands dig into the coolness of the earth to balance the heat, and I roar, and cry, and sing, the river of sweat carrying from me all that needs to be released to make room for the blessings and promises of the new year.
After two of the four rounds I check with my guides and, feeling my time inside the lodge is complete, I leave, again pausing at the door to touch my forehead to the earth and whisper a prayer to All My Relations. Then, after the exhiliration and freedom of literally running naked through the woods, I put on a robe and take a place next to fire where the lodge stones are being heated, feeling cleaned out and content.
Once the the lodge is finished and everyone is in various states of getting dressed and gathering their things, I head up to the main house where we will share a pot luck meal, and stepping out of the meadow into the trees, am struck by the pure enchantment of the woodland path being lit by the half-full moon. That took my breath away even more than the lodge itself did.
Aside from the lesson I'm already aware of, and taking care of, of taking breaks for myself between work and projects (cormorants are famous for standing in the sun after fishing in order for their outstretched wings to dry), the main power this bird brings is the ability to reach and attain seemingly impossible dreams...
...THIS is the year!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
First Class
I'm part of a newly formed group, Seattle Shamanic Teacher's Collective, whose objective is for one of us to be teaching an Introduction to Shamanic Journey class somewhere in the Seattle area once a month. Last Saturday was my turn, and my first shamanic teaching gig ever. Well, there was the talk I did a Summer or two ago when I was working a psychic fair, where all readers had to give a 15-20 minute talk, and I spoke about Animal Spirit Guides and led a guided meditation for people to find an animal guide. That was a great warm up for this latest experience. And like that time, as the magick moment approached I found myself more excited than nervous -- at least until the last minute.
Like I mentioned in an earlier post, teaching is one of the careers I day dreamed about doing when I was a kid (and now the only one left I haven't really done yet is acting -- not counting being the Little Drummer Boy in Fourth grade -- though I do have ideas about how to introduce puppets into my classes for children...), so rather than being a huge stretch into unknown territory, it felt more like stepping into a space that was waiting for me -- stepping into another aspect of my own power. I was born to do this. And it seemed a natural next step for me.
A little over two and a half years ago I went on a vision quest, and in the middle of it White Buffalo Calf Woman appeared to me (actually for the 2nd time) and she told me, "Your path is to be shared." Shortly afterwards I began this blog to follow through with that Divine request and to share my path. And now comes the opportunity to share my path in a new way. It just felt perfect.
So as the date approached a niggling voice in the back of my head started whispering in my ear, saying I wasn't prepared enough. I still needed to study up, make lots of notes to read from, etc, etc, etc. Though I was still very excited, the nerves started gaining strength and I started wondering if I really was prepared. Finally, the night before my debut I sat down with an outline given to me from another teacher, intending to write my own outline and notes to make sure I was covered, and to make sure it was worth my student's time. But as I looked over the outline, all I could picture was myself in front of the class lifelessly reading off the notes -- "Bueller? Bueller?" Talk about wasting my student's time! They might as well read a book. No, this was not a high school book report. This was a subject I was passionate about, a passion I wished to pass on and inspire others with. My goal was to empower the attendees, not bore them within an inch of their lives.
At a loss for what more to do in order to get ready, I decided to journey to Hortance, the spirit guide who recently introduced himself as my teaching guide (see my post Teacher's Pet) to get his insight. When I asked my question of him he walked up to me and placed his wing on my heart. Two and a half years ago,on that same aforementioned vision quest, amidst the chanting of the stone people in the sweat lodge as the first rays of daylight began to warm my shivering form, the spirits whispered my name in my ear, and now my owl invoked that name, saying to me, "Speaks His Heart must speak his heart. Trust your experience. Trust your knowledge. You will know what to say."
For the first time I was also made to realize what a significant step this was. This simple, seemingly
insignificant two hour class was nothing short of a full-blown initiation, another death/rebirth, a letting go of everything I'd been taught up to this point and stepping into the unknown where things, and I, would never be the same again.
Along with this epiphany came a mini movie and I watched this man (Me?!) walking toward a cliff. He had this heavy pack on his back. Though I didn't see anyone else there, a voice asked, "Would you set aside everything you've ever been told, or believed about yourself, if someone told you that by doing so you could fly?" Without hesitation the man laid down this ever increasingly heavy pack, in which he carried all his misconceptions and misperceptions of himself, and turning, stepped one foot of the cliff and with the other lightly pushed off the ledge, as if casting off a canoe, floating in the air before soaring off into the sky.
I returned to 'Ordinary Reality' and, with a sigh, tucked the outline away. "Alright, I'll try it your way," I said out loud to Hortance. Can owls smile? I'm pretty sure Hortance did. On one hand this had alleviated some nerves, but, as in all death/rebirth experiences I've had, there comes this anxious moment when you really have to let go of the past -- consciously part with the seeming safety of the way things 'have always been done' --and lay down the heavy pack of accumulated baggage if you are going to be light enough to fly into and embrace a new expansive future.
And as it turned out, of course, I really had nothing to worry about. My worry had been that I would run out of things to say, but we ended up going a half hour overtime because I got so carried away with talking and telling my experiences and answering questions, that I almost ran out of time to have each person experience their own journey. And every person did journey and met a guide, taking the first step on their personal shamanic path of empowerment. And what an honor, that the lessons of all my experiences,
enjoyable and not-so-much, find fruition in touching others' lives and lessons! And how grateful I am to those brave souls who showed their faith, in me and their own guidance, by signing up for this first leap off the cliff with me! Eternal thanks to my First Class!
Like I mentioned in an earlier post, teaching is one of the careers I day dreamed about doing when I was a kid (and now the only one left I haven't really done yet is acting -- not counting being the Little Drummer Boy in Fourth grade -- though I do have ideas about how to introduce puppets into my classes for children...), so rather than being a huge stretch into unknown territory, it felt more like stepping into a space that was waiting for me -- stepping into another aspect of my own power. I was born to do this. And it seemed a natural next step for me.
A little over two and a half years ago I went on a vision quest, and in the middle of it White Buffalo Calf Woman appeared to me (actually for the 2nd time) and she told me, "Your path is to be shared." Shortly afterwards I began this blog to follow through with that Divine request and to share my path. And now comes the opportunity to share my path in a new way. It just felt perfect.
So as the date approached a niggling voice in the back of my head started whispering in my ear, saying I wasn't prepared enough. I still needed to study up, make lots of notes to read from, etc, etc, etc. Though I was still very excited, the nerves started gaining strength and I started wondering if I really was prepared. Finally, the night before my debut I sat down with an outline given to me from another teacher, intending to write my own outline and notes to make sure I was covered, and to make sure it was worth my student's time. But as I looked over the outline, all I could picture was myself in front of the class lifelessly reading off the notes -- "Bueller? Bueller?" Talk about wasting my student's time! They might as well read a book. No, this was not a high school book report. This was a subject I was passionate about, a passion I wished to pass on and inspire others with. My goal was to empower the attendees, not bore them within an inch of their lives.
At a loss for what more to do in order to get ready, I decided to journey to Hortance, the spirit guide who recently introduced himself as my teaching guide (see my post Teacher's Pet) to get his insight. When I asked my question of him he walked up to me and placed his wing on my heart. Two and a half years ago,on that same aforementioned vision quest, amidst the chanting of the stone people in the sweat lodge as the first rays of daylight began to warm my shivering form, the spirits whispered my name in my ear, and now my owl invoked that name, saying to me, "Speaks His Heart must speak his heart. Trust your experience. Trust your knowledge. You will know what to say."
For the first time I was also made to realize what a significant step this was. This simple, seemingly
insignificant two hour class was nothing short of a full-blown initiation, another death/rebirth, a letting go of everything I'd been taught up to this point and stepping into the unknown where things, and I, would never be the same again.
Along with this epiphany came a mini movie and I watched this man (Me?!) walking toward a cliff. He had this heavy pack on his back. Though I didn't see anyone else there, a voice asked, "Would you set aside everything you've ever been told, or believed about yourself, if someone told you that by doing so you could fly?" Without hesitation the man laid down this ever increasingly heavy pack, in which he carried all his misconceptions and misperceptions of himself, and turning, stepped one foot of the cliff and with the other lightly pushed off the ledge, as if casting off a canoe, floating in the air before soaring off into the sky.
I returned to 'Ordinary Reality' and, with a sigh, tucked the outline away. "Alright, I'll try it your way," I said out loud to Hortance. Can owls smile? I'm pretty sure Hortance did. On one hand this had alleviated some nerves, but, as in all death/rebirth experiences I've had, there comes this anxious moment when you really have to let go of the past -- consciously part with the seeming safety of the way things 'have always been done' --and lay down the heavy pack of accumulated baggage if you are going to be light enough to fly into and embrace a new expansive future.
And as it turned out, of course, I really had nothing to worry about. My worry had been that I would run out of things to say, but we ended up going a half hour overtime because I got so carried away with talking and telling my experiences and answering questions, that I almost ran out of time to have each person experience their own journey. And every person did journey and met a guide, taking the first step on their personal shamanic path of empowerment. And what an honor, that the lessons of all my experiences,
enjoyable and not-so-much, find fruition in touching others' lives and lessons! And how grateful I am to those brave souls who showed their faith, in me and their own guidance, by signing up for this first leap off the cliff with me! Eternal thanks to my First Class!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Third Eye's The Charm
I had just experienced one of the most wonderful weekends I remember. Yet all good things must end. Perhaps it was having to say good-bye to my guest, or nerves about my upcoming teaching debut, or just the encroaching darkness of this time of year, but what ever it was, something left me with a constant sinking, churning feeling in my stomach -- a familiar sensation from my days of panic attacks and depression -- when the weekend was over.
"Crap! Aren't I done with this stuff yet? Do I really have to go here again?" But that's where I went for the last few days -- at least far enough to dip my feet into that familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being cloaked in this buzzing, erratic, jagged energy that squeezes my shoulders, disturbs my stomach, and clouds my head. Blech!
I kept trying to remind myself that this is how I feel before making a great leap forward. It's like my energy retreats inside of me, coiling for a spring, yet this withdrawal of energy leaves me feeling vulnerable and only partially present. Double Blech!!
So finally I did what I should have done all along -- asking for guidance. I talked to Goddess, to Artemis, to Nathaniel, to any and all guides hanging around -- "Please show me what I need to do to heal this."
Shortly after that, I had a sudden memory surface from the most recent shamanic workshop I'd attended. We had done a journey asking for information on what we can do to on a daily basis to remember our Divinity, and one of the answers that came to me was, "Every morning when you wake up, open all three eyes!"
On the heals of that memory came an older memory of another journey. In a shamanic class a couple years ago, around this same time of year, we journeyed to our guides to ask, "What gift do I have to help me get through the dark times without so much difficulty?" This is what I wrote:
So I went to Nathaniel, asked him my question, and he promptly flew into the air, zipping around in loop-dee-loops. "What are you doing?" "I'm helping you fly above everything to get perspective." "That's fine and all, but I'm not finding that very helpful at the moment. What else have you got?"
At that point he straightened out and stopped in the air. I'm not sure that I was on his back before, but I was now. He said "Look there." My eyes followed his nose to find it was pointing toward a very bright star. "That is your North Star. It will always help you keep your bearings."
Sometimes these otherworld experiences seem a little too convenient. My favorite book is Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck. On one hand I was thrilled to have found mine. On the other, was I just making it up because of the book? Still, I've found that usually these things turn out to be convenient, or obvious, because of the fact that they're true. I went with it.
As I looked at my North Star I realized what I was really looking at was my third eye. Nathaniel confirmed this saying when I get into confusion and turmoil, to open my third eye, as well as my crown chakra. "Where are your emotions?" he asked. Instantly my attention went to my chest and heart where the churned up past still swirled around my shoulders. "If you don't keep your upper chakras open, your head will become immersed in your emotions. By opening your third eye you maintain a distance, staying above them, and are able to see more clearly. You will still feel them, but being able to see will help clear them more easily."
Again the third eye! So I focused my attention on my forehead, maybe even closing my physical eyes to do so, and instantly felt this swirling, flowering energy there -- kind of like the opening of the worm hole on Star Trek Deep Space Nine. The effect was almost immediate. All the buzzing, static, interference that I'd been encased in for days suddenly evaporated. My stomach still felt off center and not totally right, but the weight and pressure of the building steam, like a pot of water put on to boil, just vanished as if my third eye, my sixth chakra, was a release valve allowing that pressure to escape and dissipate. Holy crap! How easy was that?!
That was yesterday. Last night I had one of the most peaceful night's sleep I remember. And today I not only felt 100% better, I also had a number of various intuitive hits and visions, allowing me to sink beneath the surface of reality and taste of the twinkling magick behind all things. It just took me opening my eyes -- all three of them -- to see it.
"Crap! Aren't I done with this stuff yet? Do I really have to go here again?" But that's where I went for the last few days -- at least far enough to dip my feet into that familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being cloaked in this buzzing, erratic, jagged energy that squeezes my shoulders, disturbs my stomach, and clouds my head. Blech!
I kept trying to remind myself that this is how I feel before making a great leap forward. It's like my energy retreats inside of me, coiling for a spring, yet this withdrawal of energy leaves me feeling vulnerable and only partially present. Double Blech!!
So finally I did what I should have done all along -- asking for guidance. I talked to Goddess, to Artemis, to Nathaniel, to any and all guides hanging around -- "Please show me what I need to do to heal this."
Shortly after that, I had a sudden memory surface from the most recent shamanic workshop I'd attended. We had done a journey asking for information on what we can do to on a daily basis to remember our Divinity, and one of the answers that came to me was, "Every morning when you wake up, open all three eyes!"
On the heals of that memory came an older memory of another journey. In a shamanic class a couple years ago, around this same time of year, we journeyed to our guides to ask, "What gift do I have to help me get through the dark times without so much difficulty?" This is what I wrote:
So I went to Nathaniel, asked him my question, and he promptly flew into the air, zipping around in loop-dee-loops. "What are you doing?" "I'm helping you fly above everything to get perspective." "That's fine and all, but I'm not finding that very helpful at the moment. What else have you got?"
At that point he straightened out and stopped in the air. I'm not sure that I was on his back before, but I was now. He said "Look there." My eyes followed his nose to find it was pointing toward a very bright star. "That is your North Star. It will always help you keep your bearings."
Sometimes these otherworld experiences seem a little too convenient. My favorite book is Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck. On one hand I was thrilled to have found mine. On the other, was I just making it up because of the book? Still, I've found that usually these things turn out to be convenient, or obvious, because of the fact that they're true. I went with it.
As I looked at my North Star I realized what I was really looking at was my third eye. Nathaniel confirmed this saying when I get into confusion and turmoil, to open my third eye, as well as my crown chakra. "Where are your emotions?" he asked. Instantly my attention went to my chest and heart where the churned up past still swirled around my shoulders. "If you don't keep your upper chakras open, your head will become immersed in your emotions. By opening your third eye you maintain a distance, staying above them, and are able to see more clearly. You will still feel them, but being able to see will help clear them more easily."
Again the third eye! So I focused my attention on my forehead, maybe even closing my physical eyes to do so, and instantly felt this swirling, flowering energy there -- kind of like the opening of the worm hole on Star Trek Deep Space Nine. The effect was almost immediate. All the buzzing, static, interference that I'd been encased in for days suddenly evaporated. My stomach still felt off center and not totally right, but the weight and pressure of the building steam, like a pot of water put on to boil, just vanished as if my third eye, my sixth chakra, was a release valve allowing that pressure to escape and dissipate. Holy crap! How easy was that?!
That was yesterday. Last night I had one of the most peaceful night's sleep I remember. And today I not only felt 100% better, I also had a number of various intuitive hits and visions, allowing me to sink beneath the surface of reality and taste of the twinkling magick behind all things. It just took me opening my eyes -- all three of them -- to see it.
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