For Thanksgiving day this year I made another list of 101 things I'm grateful for. Then I was sooo grateful to be let out of my day-job early that I forgot to take the list home with me. But following is a reconstructed list:
1. Oatmeal Scotchies 2. Pirate Movies 3. Alexandre Dumas 4. Joseph Campbell 5. Horse Whisperers 6. My Parents... 7. ...and My Siblings -- and the fact that we all get along so well 8. My Growing Family of Friends 9. That there are too many people in my life that I'm grateful for to name them individually here 10. Uillieann Pipes 11. Magpies 12. Fire Flies 13. Firefly 14. Reunions through Facebook with people I never thought I'd connect with again 15. Synchronicities 16. Kindred Spirits and Mateys 17. The Faery Folk who blink and flash through my apartment 18. Ewan McGregor's Voice 19. Everyday Magick and Miracles 20. Gene Roddenbury 21. The satisfying 'thunk' of a loosed arrow sinking into cardboard and straw 22. Curling 23. Tarzan, who kept my young heart wild 24. Charles Schulz 25. My Celtic Irish Heritage 26. Santa 27. Still being in the Land of the Living after the trials of the past few months 28. Campfires 29. Wood Smoke 30. The majestic silence of the woods 31. When Mount Rainier turns strawberry red in the setting sun's light 32. Jackalopes 33. Rainbows 34. Unicorns 35. Egg Nog 36. Chai 37. Egg Nog Chai 38. Hope 39. Inspiration 40. Drum Circles 41. Shamanism 42. All my teachers and guides, physical and non-physical, human and non-human 43. Faerieworlds 44. Skinny Dipping 45. Crullers 46. Bollywood Numbers 47. Story Tellers 48. Flying Reindeer 49. Herbie 50. Mr Rogers 51. All the Disney movies that instilled in me the importance of wishing on stars and knowing dreams come true 52. Whose Line Is It Anyway? (the Drew Carey version) 53. Kissing 54. Bare Feet on the Earth 55. Lao Tzu 56. Big Dogs 57. Abraham Hicks 58. The Spirit that lives in all things 59. Hurdy Gurdys 60. That there are people in the world who speak fluent Klingon... 61. ...and Who go to the trouble of translating Shakespeare and Dickens into it 62. Bruce Lee 63. Graphic Novels 64. That Love is the greatest power in the Universe 65. That Love is the only power in the Universe 66. Grandmother Moon 67. Shooting Stars 68. MY Furry Feline Children 69. Minnesota 70. Movies in the theater 71. Reiki 72. Lisa Williams 73. That no matter how afraid or freaked out I get because of what I think is going on, or what things look like, I am always safe and nothing can threaten who and what I truly am 74. Deloreans 75. Sun Dappled Forest Floors 76. Feathers and Beads 77. IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations -- it's a Star Trek thing) 78. African Wild Dogs 79. Snuggling 80. Mucha 81. Barristas who give me a grande chai when I ordered a tall 82. Dr Suess 83. Dr Doolittle 84. Dr Quinn 85. My Awesome Naturopath 86. Weird Al 87. Brad Paisley 88. Ewan McGregor's Smile 89. Filk Songs 90. Celebrating both Christmas and Solstice 91. Pinky Promised Fiancees 92. Ecstatic Dance 93. Rituals with lots of dancing and singing and laughing 94. Quantum Physics 95. The Oxford English Dictionary 96. Romantic Comedies 97. Sarah Brightman 98. Wagner 99. Hugs 100. Puppets (especially Muppets) 101. That there are soooo many more things I'm grateful for than fit in this list!!
...And a very special Thank YOU for reading my blog! xo
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
All My Relations
There are many lessons coming out of my recent experiences with a potentially life-threatening situation, some of which I'd already known on a mental level, but that were really brought home by this experience. The one, though, that has really struck the deepest is the one about the true Oneness of the Universe.
A few months ago I posted about how I'd done a shamanic journey to meet the spirit of Zoloft (Quest For The Hol-Z Grail), and inspired by that experience I wanted to connect with the spirit of Warfarin - the blood thinner I am on to give my body the chance to reabsorb the blood clot they found in my leg. I didn't do a full journey, but I went into a meditative state and asked to meet the aforementioned spirit. What happened next was nothing I could have predicted. A smokey, spiraling cloud rose up before me, reminiscent of I Dream of Jeannie, and then at the top of the pillar of smoke appeared the torso of a man. Though they were closed, I swear I rolled my eyes, because I recognized the man in question. It was Jeeves, the famous butler (...sorry - "Valet") from the P.G. Wodehouse books. Part of the eye roll was because I'd just been watching the television series starring Fry and Laurie.
This Jeeves-genie looked at me, in his ever calm and collected manner, and with a very subtle hint of a smile, said...
Here was the spirit of an artificial, human-made, medication -- something I would have fought in the past -- connecting and assuring me 'he' was here to do his best to serve me and my healing. Now I am still prone to choose natural medicines over artificial ones, but what this reminded me -- as did the journey with Zoloft -- is that everything really is One and that the Universe will use whatever is in front of you to bring you home. One quote I've never forgotten came from a workshop I attended years ago with the channeled being Bartholomew. He said, "Whatever it is, it is God." There is only One substance, One energy, One being.
This just fanned the fires of my passion for Shamanism as I realized this whole approach to life is about connecting with things -- the spirits of things -- and recognizing the Spirit That Lives In All Things. Who is there to threaten or fight with us when there is only one of us here? As I wrote in a song many years ago...
When we know who we are
Then we are free
And there's no such thing as 'they'
Because there is only 'we'
And it reminded me of an experience I had drawn a comic about, from a guided meditation I'd done...
Recognition of the oneness of life and the Spirit of all things, is central to shamanism. And, though it has not hushed all my human and egoic fears and worries, I find that attitude ever more deeply rooted in the way I approach things. As I sat there one day, allowing my leg recuperation time, I realized that my body is not the enemy. Even the clot that, had it gone undetected could have eventually taken my life, was not an enemy. Everything happens with a purpose and there truly is a gift in everything.
And more importantly, there is Spirit in everything -- even according to Quantum Physics everything has consciousness, or perhaps more accurately is a consciousness. Everything is part of the same system, the same consciousness -- as I have heard from Jeshua for close to 20 years, "There is no separation." With no separation, the Universe and everything in it becomes part of a dance, not a battle. Everything is relative. Everything is my relative. No matter what it is, it is All My Relations!
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Bulldozers and Bodhi Trees
Recently someone posted a photo online that really affected me. I have been unable to find it again and don't remember who posted it (so if after my description you realize it was you, please let me know), but what it pictured, from a little distance away, was a massive bulldozer surrounded by forest, and some feet in front of it, in the middle of a swath of bared earth, a lone figure of a man standing straight and tall as if staring down the metal behemoth. The chills that ran up my spine were almost identical to those I experienced when I first saw that famous footage of the student facing down the tanks in Beijing.
The difference was that this was somewhere deep in the jungles. It was not being televised to countless numbers of others. With the exception of the photographer, there was possibly no one else here to witness, support, or do anything if the bulldozer continued in its path, and therefore no extra social pressure for the driver to stop. The world was not watching.
Now, for just a second, with all of that in your mind, place yourself in the shoes of this man...
Can you feel the absolute courage and surrender that is necessary for him to be standing in that spot at that moment? Of course fear is present too, but stronger is the conviction that this is worth facing death for, and the willingness to let go of everything he loves and holds dear in this life for one single instant of truth. Nothing else exists at this moment but this moment. The future hovers tauntingly over and around him, with a fork in the river of his life staring him in the eye with a cheshire grin... ...Okay, so I've experienced this moment...
Beyond the politics and particulars of this specific situation, there is a mythic dimension that beckons me with the question, "What bulldozers in your life are you willing to face down?" There is a cycle in my life where things just go along, dum-dee-dum-dee-dum, but slowly a feeling builds, an itchiness for something, and the fabric of my life, which has up to this point formed a seamless background, begins to unwind in the whiffs of illusion that it is, and I find myself at a point where, again, I must let go of the convenient smoke and mirrors of the untruths in my life and surrender to the bigger Truth of existence -- of my existence.
There comes a point when I begin to realize how many false beliefs I am holding -- how their weight drags me down and drains my strength in the heavy toll they demand for carrying them. Egoic beliefs such as how powerless, or how hopeless, or how stupid I am. The only thing to do, then, is to set them down, and stand there, waiting for my destiny, my Truth, to make itself known -- to find me. These are simultaneously the most vulnerable and most powerful moments of my life. This is the shamanic death and rebirth.
I can't help but think of the story of the Buddha. After unsuccessfully trying every possible path to enlightenment, Siddhartha finally sat beneath a Bodhi tree determined that he would not move from this place until he was either dead or enlightened. I keep tripping over words to describe this state because it really can't be described, only experienced. But this drive toward truth, the Truth that lies beneath all being, is so familiar to me that I can resonate with the Buddha sitting beneath the Bodhi.
A few years ago I sat in the woods myself for three days and this was exactly how I felt. There is an undeniable truth of my being -- a part of me that exists beyond time, beyond duality, indestructible and immortal. My true being, my essence. This was the object of my quest, to experience, embrace, and become that, and there was no one here but me and the Divine to sort it out -- to hold to the truth and let all that is false fall away. There was my shaman friend who brought me 4oz of pomegranate juice twice a day, but she and the other three friends who were supporting me energetically were camped some distance away. And, though remote, I realized there was a possibility that I could die. Cougar and bear sightings in this area were not uncommon. But I was in total surrender, trusting there was purpose, letting go of everything and everyone.
Synchronistically, last night I attended the monthly gathering where a friend of mine channels Jeshua, and one of things he said was that, if you take the word "alone" apart it says "all one." There is this subtle yet profound truth here that I have become increasingly aware of, about what it really means to be free. And I have to admit it scares me to my depths! At the same time I can see it is really the only path for me and behind the smokey wisps of fear is an indescribable power, and joy, and rightness of being. To be totally free you can not hang onto anything, or perhaps a better way of saying it is you must hold everything with an open hand -- the detachment spoken of in Buddhism and other Eastern ways. So the paradox seems to be that to become one with all, you have to be alone -- To realize oneness you must separate yourself from everything you thought or believed. It is about Illusion and Truth, Fear and Love.
The tricky thing to realize is that it is not a battle between two equal and opposing forces -- Good and Evil. Mountain v.s. Mountain as a friend used to say. The powers involved are Love and Fear, and in actuality Fear is not a power -- it is an absence of power, the absence of Love. Even that statement is not totally accurate because Love is the only power in the Universe and there can not be an absence of it. Fear is the Illusion of the belief in the absence of Love. Fear is not real. As someone who experienced years of daily anxiety attacks, I can say that the feelings of fear are very real and valid, but the beliefs those fears are based on are not real or true.
During my last big bout with Panic Attacks and Depression a few years ago, I spent a couple months recovering at my parent's home, and every single day I went for a two mile walk. With every single step I reaffirmed the validity of my feelings and at the same time the fact (despite overwhelming evidence from my overwrought nerves and brain) that the feelings were not based on Truth.
Perhaps this is the price of being an Artist, a Visionary, a Shamanic Practioner, a Spiritual Warrior. Not so much picking the 'right' side in a dualistic battle, but holding to the Truth -- the Truth you know and feel in your heart of heart of hearts -- no matter what countering demons, fears, and illusions rise against you, threatening your very destruction; No matter how many countless people can not see what you see. And yet for me it is a choiceless choice. I can not be any other way. And I have to acknowledge to myself my own strength and tenacity, because no matter what happens in my life and how down or anxious -- to the point of nervous breakdown -- I get, or how infinitesimally small it may seem, I never lose that grain of hope, that deep, abiding and underlying sense of connection, the sacredness and oneness of All.
Love is real. Love is the only reality.
And as my favorite quote from A Course in Miracles states:
The difference was that this was somewhere deep in the jungles. It was not being televised to countless numbers of others. With the exception of the photographer, there was possibly no one else here to witness, support, or do anything if the bulldozer continued in its path, and therefore no extra social pressure for the driver to stop. The world was not watching.
Now, for just a second, with all of that in your mind, place yourself in the shoes of this man...
Can you feel the absolute courage and surrender that is necessary for him to be standing in that spot at that moment? Of course fear is present too, but stronger is the conviction that this is worth facing death for, and the willingness to let go of everything he loves and holds dear in this life for one single instant of truth. Nothing else exists at this moment but this moment. The future hovers tauntingly over and around him, with a fork in the river of his life staring him in the eye with a cheshire grin... ...Okay, so I've experienced this moment...
Beyond the politics and particulars of this specific situation, there is a mythic dimension that beckons me with the question, "What bulldozers in your life are you willing to face down?" There is a cycle in my life where things just go along, dum-dee-dum-dee-dum, but slowly a feeling builds, an itchiness for something, and the fabric of my life, which has up to this point formed a seamless background, begins to unwind in the whiffs of illusion that it is, and I find myself at a point where, again, I must let go of the convenient smoke and mirrors of the untruths in my life and surrender to the bigger Truth of existence -- of my existence.
There comes a point when I begin to realize how many false beliefs I am holding -- how their weight drags me down and drains my strength in the heavy toll they demand for carrying them. Egoic beliefs such as how powerless, or how hopeless, or how stupid I am. The only thing to do, then, is to set them down, and stand there, waiting for my destiny, my Truth, to make itself known -- to find me. These are simultaneously the most vulnerable and most powerful moments of my life. This is the shamanic death and rebirth.
I can't help but think of the story of the Buddha. After unsuccessfully trying every possible path to enlightenment, Siddhartha finally sat beneath a Bodhi tree determined that he would not move from this place until he was either dead or enlightened. I keep tripping over words to describe this state because it really can't be described, only experienced. But this drive toward truth, the Truth that lies beneath all being, is so familiar to me that I can resonate with the Buddha sitting beneath the Bodhi.
A few years ago I sat in the woods myself for three days and this was exactly how I felt. There is an undeniable truth of my being -- a part of me that exists beyond time, beyond duality, indestructible and immortal. My true being, my essence. This was the object of my quest, to experience, embrace, and become that, and there was no one here but me and the Divine to sort it out -- to hold to the truth and let all that is false fall away. There was my shaman friend who brought me 4oz of pomegranate juice twice a day, but she and the other three friends who were supporting me energetically were camped some distance away. And, though remote, I realized there was a possibility that I could die. Cougar and bear sightings in this area were not uncommon. But I was in total surrender, trusting there was purpose, letting go of everything and everyone.
Synchronistically, last night I attended the monthly gathering where a friend of mine channels Jeshua, and one of things he said was that, if you take the word "alone" apart it says "all one." There is this subtle yet profound truth here that I have become increasingly aware of, about what it really means to be free. And I have to admit it scares me to my depths! At the same time I can see it is really the only path for me and behind the smokey wisps of fear is an indescribable power, and joy, and rightness of being. To be totally free you can not hang onto anything, or perhaps a better way of saying it is you must hold everything with an open hand -- the detachment spoken of in Buddhism and other Eastern ways. So the paradox seems to be that to become one with all, you have to be alone -- To realize oneness you must separate yourself from everything you thought or believed. It is about Illusion and Truth, Fear and Love.
The tricky thing to realize is that it is not a battle between two equal and opposing forces -- Good and Evil. Mountain v.s. Mountain as a friend used to say. The powers involved are Love and Fear, and in actuality Fear is not a power -- it is an absence of power, the absence of Love. Even that statement is not totally accurate because Love is the only power in the Universe and there can not be an absence of it. Fear is the Illusion of the belief in the absence of Love. Fear is not real. As someone who experienced years of daily anxiety attacks, I can say that the feelings of fear are very real and valid, but the beliefs those fears are based on are not real or true.
During my last big bout with Panic Attacks and Depression a few years ago, I spent a couple months recovering at my parent's home, and every single day I went for a two mile walk. With every single step I reaffirmed the validity of my feelings and at the same time the fact (despite overwhelming evidence from my overwrought nerves and brain) that the feelings were not based on Truth.
Perhaps this is the price of being an Artist, a Visionary, a Shamanic Practioner, a Spiritual Warrior. Not so much picking the 'right' side in a dualistic battle, but holding to the Truth -- the Truth you know and feel in your heart of heart of hearts -- no matter what countering demons, fears, and illusions rise against you, threatening your very destruction; No matter how many countless people can not see what you see. And yet for me it is a choiceless choice. I can not be any other way. And I have to acknowledge to myself my own strength and tenacity, because no matter what happens in my life and how down or anxious -- to the point of nervous breakdown -- I get, or how infinitesimally small it may seem, I never lose that grain of hope, that deep, abiding and underlying sense of connection, the sacredness and oneness of All.
Love is real. Love is the only reality.
And as my favorite quote from A Course in Miracles states:
"Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists."
Friday, October 19, 2012
Drawn Forth
I've been realizing that this blog is intended to be "The path of a Shamanic Cartoonist" yet I write or display little of my cartooning side here, or of how the two worlds of shamanism and comics intersect and play off of each other in my life. To that end I wanted to make it known for those that didn't know, I actually have another blog where I post my most recent comics: http://drawingbreath-comic.blogspot.com/.
What I am trying to figure out is how much cross-pollination to have between the 2 blogs (not to mention my other 2 blogs, for my "normal" poetry and for my Epic Hamster Poems) with out posting every entry there in this one and vice versa, effectually negating the idea of separate blogs.
But for now, and until I figure it out, for a sample of the comics I'm working on, check out my last 2 posts from my comic blog:
Sketchy Future
Ocassionally Quarterly
To be honest, my comics have been few and far between recently because of a focus on my Shamanic Practice, as well as other life events, but it seems the wheels of creativity are ramping up again and I am beginning to draw a lot more these days.
What I am trying to figure out is how much cross-pollination to have between the 2 blogs (not to mention my other 2 blogs, for my "normal" poetry and for my Epic Hamster Poems) with out posting every entry there in this one and vice versa, effectually negating the idea of separate blogs.
But for now, and until I figure it out, for a sample of the comics I'm working on, check out my last 2 posts from my comic blog:
Sketchy Future
Ocassionally Quarterly
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Coyote Beautiful
I was going to start this with, "It's been an interesting few months," but then I started wondering, "What few months in my life aren't interesting?" So what is the flavor of this season's dose of interesting? It has been a season of Firsts. Besides including my first trip to a gay/lesbian bar and my first ever overdraft at the bank (these events being totally unrelated to the other), I experienced my first ever trip to the emergency room.
Going back a few weeks earlier, I had tweaked my leg, but at the time didn't think much of it, assuming it would just get better. And it did seem to be improving until a couple weeks later when it began to get more painful and harder to walk or stand on. I decided it was time to pay my Naturopath a visit. It seemed by all accounts that I may have torn a ligament in my knee, and we set out accordingly to heal it in the best way possible, and hoping I wouldn't need surgery.
Back in the summer between 8th Grade and High School, I was diagnosed with Kyphosis, similar to Scoliosis but the curvature of the spine instead of being from side to side is front to back -- in other words I was a bit hump-backed at the top and sway-backed at the bottom of my spine. And just in time for my debut as an insecure, dorky, high school freshman, I had to begin wearing a back-brace.
This was not a life-threatening condition, but surgery was a real possibility. And, still unbelievably to me when I look back in hindsight, here I was a 12 or 13 year old kid and people are constantly telling me how much back surgery hurts. "I knew this bear of a man, and after his back surgery he cried like a baby!" ...Not helpful. But my point, and I do have one, is back then I went from having a back curvature of, I believe, 93 degrees to one of 54 degrees -- no surgery necessary. It really was a miracle, especially to the Mayo Clinic doctors who were positive at the beginning that I would require some sort of surgery to correct my spine. So, long story short, I have in the past already experienced miraculous healing and the power of prayer -- and Boy-Howdee did I pray!
So as I nursed my leg, keeping it elevated and iced, and taking some time off of work to stay off of it for awhile, I asked for reiki healing from a number of friends, and continually administered reiki myself. I watched, a couple times, my DVDs The Secret and Loiuse L Hay's You Can Heal Your Life -- programs (I highly recommend) about how our thoughts and beliefs create the reality we experience, which always helps me refocus and remember what's really real. And as I continued to pray and reaffirm the healing and wholeness of my leg, it continued to improve. I knew I wouldn't need surgery.
By the time I got to the MRI my naturopath wanted me to get, most of the swelling had already disappeared, and I was able to walk and stand longer every day, so I was expecting the results to come back and my doctor to tell me everything looked fine and was almost healed. That's not what happened.
That same afternoon I received a voice mail from my naturopath's office saying they had already made an appointment for me, which was set only 45 minutes after I got the message, at some other clinic, though at the time I didn't understand what that clinic was for. Vascular something or other? At first I resisted, thinking I really shouldn't take anymore time off of work, but then it sank in that this could be serious. I went right over.
At the clinic they did an ultrasound and found a blood-clot in my leg. Well they didn't tell me at first cuz from the moment I got there I was anxiously babbling about how nervous I was, especially after seeing all the info hanging on the office walls about clots, etc, and how dangerous they could be. Instead the woman quietly excused herself to call my doctor to let her know what they found, and then my doctor had her put me on the phone so she could tell me personally what was going on. They put me in a wheelchair (another first) and took me right down to the emergency room.
I was pretty freaked out and began recognizing some feeling and thought patterns left over from my panic attack days. But despite that, and the 'second shoe' feeling of an axe hanging over my head ready to drop at any moment, at the same time it did not take me over and I was able to maintain somewhat of a perspective. Among the thoughts like, "What will happen to my kitties if something happens to me?" and, "Crap! My apartment is a mess! What will people think when they come in to clean it up?" were such realizations as, "I'm going to be grateful for this experience some day" and, "At least this means I don't need surgery."
The ironic thing was that I was probably more at risk during the previous few weeks, the time I spent coming to a point of serenity and surrender and trusting in my wholeness and healing, than I was while being treated in the emergency room, when my anxiety level increased exponentially. The surrender and trust I'd so recently reached just shattered, and it's taken me a couple more weeks to let go of that buzz of fear and uncertainty.
What finally helped me release those fears and doubts occurred about a week ago. This particular Friday night I thought I was going to a drum circle at a local metaphysical store with a couple friends. It's the same place that holds a weekly Native American pipe ceremony that I attend sometimes, and on the way there I was musing at how healing it would be to get to smoke the pipe. The Chanupa (peace pipe) has become a powerful vehicle for me to reconnect with Goddess, particularly in the guise of my adoptive spirit mother, White Buffalo Calf Woman who originally introduced the pipe to the native peoples. When I got there I discovered it was actually an Autumn Equinox ceremony, which just happened to include the chanupa. YES!!!
The woman putting on the ceremony explained the Native view on this point of the year, at this point on the medicine wheel, and how we were moving from Summer, which is the domain of Shawnodese (Coyote), into Autumn, which is the domain of Mudjekeewis*(Bear). I almost started laughing and crying at the same time. Coyote! Of course!
The pieces just fell into place. Everything I'd just experienced -- Everything! -- was the handiwork of Coyote, the eternal trickster, with whom I am well aquainted. The whole facing-death-thing, and the panicky feelings, and the fear for my mortality. It was all me, the Coyote in me, taking for real a set of thoughts and beliefs that had no truth to them -- picture Wile E Coyote running smack into one of his paintings on a cliff wall. All the fears and anxieties were illusions, and rather than facing them and recognizing them for what they were, I let them run away with me. But no matter what happened -- even if a clot found it's way to my brain or lungs, ending this particular incarnation -- everything was okay. Everything would be okay. Death is not a failure. Nothing that happens can threaten who I truly am. And I can still trust the Universe to unfold in perfect harmony, as well as trusting that I am always in the right place at the right time.
And now when those thoughts and anxieties begin to raise their heads, I can just thank Coyote for visiting, remind myself these things are not true, and watch Coyote disappear over the edge of the cliff, sign in hand...
*Originally I couldn't quite make out the name she was using for bear, but it flashed me back to high school Spanish class when our teacher told us about watching Parkay commercials in Spanish -- You know, the ones arguing with the tub of margarine: "Parkay!" "Butter!" -- because it sounded like "Mantequilla!" ..."Par-Kay-ay!"
Going back a few weeks earlier, I had tweaked my leg, but at the time didn't think much of it, assuming it would just get better. And it did seem to be improving until a couple weeks later when it began to get more painful and harder to walk or stand on. I decided it was time to pay my Naturopath a visit. It seemed by all accounts that I may have torn a ligament in my knee, and we set out accordingly to heal it in the best way possible, and hoping I wouldn't need surgery.
Back in the summer between 8th Grade and High School, I was diagnosed with Kyphosis, similar to Scoliosis but the curvature of the spine instead of being from side to side is front to back -- in other words I was a bit hump-backed at the top and sway-backed at the bottom of my spine. And just in time for my debut as an insecure, dorky, high school freshman, I had to begin wearing a back-brace.
This was not a life-threatening condition, but surgery was a real possibility. And, still unbelievably to me when I look back in hindsight, here I was a 12 or 13 year old kid and people are constantly telling me how much back surgery hurts. "I knew this bear of a man, and after his back surgery he cried like a baby!" ...Not helpful. But my point, and I do have one, is back then I went from having a back curvature of, I believe, 93 degrees to one of 54 degrees -- no surgery necessary. It really was a miracle, especially to the Mayo Clinic doctors who were positive at the beginning that I would require some sort of surgery to correct my spine. So, long story short, I have in the past already experienced miraculous healing and the power of prayer -- and Boy-Howdee did I pray!
So as I nursed my leg, keeping it elevated and iced, and taking some time off of work to stay off of it for awhile, I asked for reiki healing from a number of friends, and continually administered reiki myself. I watched, a couple times, my DVDs The Secret and Loiuse L Hay's You Can Heal Your Life -- programs (I highly recommend) about how our thoughts and beliefs create the reality we experience, which always helps me refocus and remember what's really real. And as I continued to pray and reaffirm the healing and wholeness of my leg, it continued to improve. I knew I wouldn't need surgery.
By the time I got to the MRI my naturopath wanted me to get, most of the swelling had already disappeared, and I was able to walk and stand longer every day, so I was expecting the results to come back and my doctor to tell me everything looked fine and was almost healed. That's not what happened.
That same afternoon I received a voice mail from my naturopath's office saying they had already made an appointment for me, which was set only 45 minutes after I got the message, at some other clinic, though at the time I didn't understand what that clinic was for. Vascular something or other? At first I resisted, thinking I really shouldn't take anymore time off of work, but then it sank in that this could be serious. I went right over.
At the clinic they did an ultrasound and found a blood-clot in my leg. Well they didn't tell me at first cuz from the moment I got there I was anxiously babbling about how nervous I was, especially after seeing all the info hanging on the office walls about clots, etc, and how dangerous they could be. Instead the woman quietly excused herself to call my doctor to let her know what they found, and then my doctor had her put me on the phone so she could tell me personally what was going on. They put me in a wheelchair (another first) and took me right down to the emergency room.
I was pretty freaked out and began recognizing some feeling and thought patterns left over from my panic attack days. But despite that, and the 'second shoe' feeling of an axe hanging over my head ready to drop at any moment, at the same time it did not take me over and I was able to maintain somewhat of a perspective. Among the thoughts like, "What will happen to my kitties if something happens to me?" and, "Crap! My apartment is a mess! What will people think when they come in to clean it up?" were such realizations as, "I'm going to be grateful for this experience some day" and, "At least this means I don't need surgery."
The ironic thing was that I was probably more at risk during the previous few weeks, the time I spent coming to a point of serenity and surrender and trusting in my wholeness and healing, than I was while being treated in the emergency room, when my anxiety level increased exponentially. The surrender and trust I'd so recently reached just shattered, and it's taken me a couple more weeks to let go of that buzz of fear and uncertainty.
What finally helped me release those fears and doubts occurred about a week ago. This particular Friday night I thought I was going to a drum circle at a local metaphysical store with a couple friends. It's the same place that holds a weekly Native American pipe ceremony that I attend sometimes, and on the way there I was musing at how healing it would be to get to smoke the pipe. The Chanupa (peace pipe) has become a powerful vehicle for me to reconnect with Goddess, particularly in the guise of my adoptive spirit mother, White Buffalo Calf Woman who originally introduced the pipe to the native peoples. When I got there I discovered it was actually an Autumn Equinox ceremony, which just happened to include the chanupa. YES!!!
The woman putting on the ceremony explained the Native view on this point of the year, at this point on the medicine wheel, and how we were moving from Summer, which is the domain of Shawnodese (Coyote), into Autumn, which is the domain of Mudjekeewis*(Bear). I almost started laughing and crying at the same time. Coyote! Of course!
The pieces just fell into place. Everything I'd just experienced -- Everything! -- was the handiwork of Coyote, the eternal trickster, with whom I am well aquainted. The whole facing-death-thing, and the panicky feelings, and the fear for my mortality. It was all me, the Coyote in me, taking for real a set of thoughts and beliefs that had no truth to them -- picture Wile E Coyote running smack into one of his paintings on a cliff wall. All the fears and anxieties were illusions, and rather than facing them and recognizing them for what they were, I let them run away with me. But no matter what happened -- even if a clot found it's way to my brain or lungs, ending this particular incarnation -- everything was okay. Everything would be okay. Death is not a failure. Nothing that happens can threaten who I truly am. And I can still trust the Universe to unfold in perfect harmony, as well as trusting that I am always in the right place at the right time.
And now when those thoughts and anxieties begin to raise their heads, I can just thank Coyote for visiting, remind myself these things are not true, and watch Coyote disappear over the edge of the cliff, sign in hand...
*Originally I couldn't quite make out the name she was using for bear, but it flashed me back to high school Spanish class when our teacher told us about watching Parkay commercials in Spanish -- You know, the ones arguing with the tub of margarine: "Parkay!" "Butter!" -- because it sounded like "Mantequilla!" ..."Par-Kay-ay!"
Sunday, September 23, 2012
A Fine Moose
This past season has been rougher for me than most. Lots of shifts, and initiations, and shamanic deaths. Just when I thought I had weathered them all and was once more regaining my strength and the confidence that I could trust the twists and turns of my path, my path twisted again.
Just over a week ago I received news of a life-altering, and potentially life-threatening, situation. After a minor leg injury a few weeks earlier, I had developed a blood clot (the details of which I plan on posting more about soon), but over the course of this past week conditions continued to improve considerably. Ironically, it seems that by the time I found out I was in danger, steps had already been taken to neutralize that danger.
At the beginning of last week, after a pair of medical appointments that indicated everything moving in a positive direction, and thus feeling a bit more reassured and centered, I felt the call to journey on this experience. So on my way home from my Naturopath, I stopped at one of my favorite parks and walked down to this semi-secret magickal spot a friend had shown me years ago, down through the trees on the bank of this burbling, crystal river.
I reclined on some rocks overlooking the water and asked myself why I don't come here more often? Four salmon, swimming in a diamond shape, swam up river past me, and I realized it'd been about a year since last I visited this sacred spot because the salmon were swimming then too. I thanked the salmon folk for appearing to me, instantly recognizing their message that I too was on my way home - that I could trust my inner compass to get me there.
I leaned back a bit further and closed my eyes. I didn't have my drum with me, so I pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen that I keep in my book bag, and began to shake it softly. An impromptu rattle for an impromptu journey. Soon I felt the shift when my consciousness clicks into place and begins to ride the 'wind-horse' into the other realms...
I felt it was time to return to my body sitting on the rocks, so I thanked the moose and bid him farewell. I slowly opened my eyes and took a deep appreciative breath. For a few moments I drank in the warm sunlight along with the surrounding peace of this scene, then I smiled down on the burbling water.
"Alright. I will stop pushing the river."
Just over a week ago I received news of a life-altering, and potentially life-threatening, situation. After a minor leg injury a few weeks earlier, I had developed a blood clot (the details of which I plan on posting more about soon), but over the course of this past week conditions continued to improve considerably. Ironically, it seems that by the time I found out I was in danger, steps had already been taken to neutralize that danger.
At the beginning of last week, after a pair of medical appointments that indicated everything moving in a positive direction, and thus feeling a bit more reassured and centered, I felt the call to journey on this experience. So on my way home from my Naturopath, I stopped at one of my favorite parks and walked down to this semi-secret magickal spot a friend had shown me years ago, down through the trees on the bank of this burbling, crystal river.
I reclined on some rocks overlooking the water and asked myself why I don't come here more often? Four salmon, swimming in a diamond shape, swam up river past me, and I realized it'd been about a year since last I visited this sacred spot because the salmon were swimming then too. I thanked the salmon folk for appearing to me, instantly recognizing their message that I too was on my way home - that I could trust my inner compass to get me there.
I leaned back a bit further and closed my eyes. I didn't have my drum with me, so I pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen that I keep in my book bag, and began to shake it softly. An impromptu rattle for an impromptu journey. Soon I felt the shift when my consciousness clicks into place and begins to ride the 'wind-horse' into the other realms...
I expected to meet Nathaniel, my reindeer guide, and though the first thing I spotted was a fuzzy nose, I soon found out it wasn't his. As has happened often in the recent past, a huge bull moose stepped into view. Moose medicine is about self-esteem, and his constant vigil with me has been all about stepping into my power.
So I asked him how that fit into this latest experience, since I felt less powerful and less safe than I had in a very long time. Instantly he showed me the image of a newborn moose, still wet from birth and with legs so wobbly that he could not stand up on them yet. The picture expanded and I realized the babe's mother was lying there with him, sheltering him and licking him to clean his shiny coat. The message sank in even as Moose voiced it in my mind, "It is when you feel at your weakest and most vulnerable that you are most cared for, nurtured, and cradled by the Universe." Ah! This was a birth, duh!
Moose went on to tell me I would find my legs and embrace my power. And despite having the power to plow a trail anywhere, I would walk nimbly and gently upon the earth, because by just standing in my power I would see my path open up before me. There is no need to push or force my way.
I felt it was time to return to my body sitting on the rocks, so I thanked the moose and bid him farewell. I slowly opened my eyes and took a deep appreciative breath. For a few moments I drank in the warm sunlight along with the surrounding peace of this scene, then I smiled down on the burbling water.
"Alright. I will stop pushing the river."
Making Tracks
I'm feeling long overdue for a blog post, which becomes a vicious circle because so much has happened since the previous post that I get emotionally bogged down with trying to figure out where to start. Do I need to fill in everything up to this point before writing about current happenings or just plow in to what is unfolding at the moment? I have so many things to write about (and I have 3 or 4 drafts of different posts started that I haven't finished yet) and the weight of all these things makes it difficult to even start.
Then this morning an image popped into my mind. In my life, on my path, wherever I express myself, whether in my comics, or art, or poetry, or this blog, or facebook, or the stories I tell my friends and family, I leave "tracks." Sometimes these tracks are on harder ground, and don't leave as good a trace, and other times they are on softer ground, such as my blog, where they make more of an impression and stick around longer.
It's important for me to be where I am, so when I'm posting in my blog, I need to write about where I am in that moment, leaving tracks where I am stepping, and not 'back-tracking,' constantly going backwards to make sure everyone else knows every step I took to get to where I am. If I do that then I never actually arrive, am never present, and am more concerned about everyone else knowing where I've been and what I've done, that I am not really garnering the lessons, the ground gained by those steps, myself. If these lessons are not anchored in my own experience, then they are no good to anyone else. As I've heard from one of my greatest teachers, the best teachers teach from their own experiences, and there-by inspire others to live their own experiences.
Of course, in any moment I may be musing about past occurrences as pieces of the whole puzzle of which led me to be standing in my current tracks. That's different from back-tracking.
It is a simple realization that no one other than me will ever have the complete picture of my life. No one else will ever see all my tracks. If it interests anyone to get a bigger picture of my life, they will have to track me over various grounds. Even then, there is the space between the tracks, and it is that space where the magick happens, where the individual has to fill in the gaps with their own guess-work and intuition as to what propelled the next step. In other words, I am not responsible for filling anyone in, or for explaining or justifying myself to anyone. How freeing is that?!
My path has woven with and crossed the tracks of many others, all of which which I have benefited from, my own steps becoming stronger and more sure. And if by walking my path and gaining the insights of every step, continuously moving forward and leaving the impression of those steps where they may fall, someone else can gain insights to discover their own direction and make their own tracks, I am simply thrilled with the honor.
So if you catch traces of my tracks in the mossy forest floor, and my path resonates with yours -- we seem to be going the same direction -- then I am honored to have your company. Walk with me. Let's make tracks.
Then this morning an image popped into my mind. In my life, on my path, wherever I express myself, whether in my comics, or art, or poetry, or this blog, or facebook, or the stories I tell my friends and family, I leave "tracks." Sometimes these tracks are on harder ground, and don't leave as good a trace, and other times they are on softer ground, such as my blog, where they make more of an impression and stick around longer.
It's important for me to be where I am, so when I'm posting in my blog, I need to write about where I am in that moment, leaving tracks where I am stepping, and not 'back-tracking,' constantly going backwards to make sure everyone else knows every step I took to get to where I am. If I do that then I never actually arrive, am never present, and am more concerned about everyone else knowing where I've been and what I've done, that I am not really garnering the lessons, the ground gained by those steps, myself. If these lessons are not anchored in my own experience, then they are no good to anyone else. As I've heard from one of my greatest teachers, the best teachers teach from their own experiences, and there-by inspire others to live their own experiences.
Of course, in any moment I may be musing about past occurrences as pieces of the whole puzzle of which led me to be standing in my current tracks. That's different from back-tracking.
It is a simple realization that no one other than me will ever have the complete picture of my life. No one else will ever see all my tracks. If it interests anyone to get a bigger picture of my life, they will have to track me over various grounds. Even then, there is the space between the tracks, and it is that space where the magick happens, where the individual has to fill in the gaps with their own guess-work and intuition as to what propelled the next step. In other words, I am not responsible for filling anyone in, or for explaining or justifying myself to anyone. How freeing is that?!
My path has woven with and crossed the tracks of many others, all of which which I have benefited from, my own steps becoming stronger and more sure. And if by walking my path and gaining the insights of every step, continuously moving forward and leaving the impression of those steps where they may fall, someone else can gain insights to discover their own direction and make their own tracks, I am simply thrilled with the honor.
So if you catch traces of my tracks in the mossy forest floor, and my path resonates with yours -- we seem to be going the same direction -- then I am honored to have your company. Walk with me. Let's make tracks.
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