Summoning Spirits

One night, a number of weeks ago, I was just getting ready to head out to Starbucks to work on a comic that, in the previous couple days, had burst across my mind in an explosion of inspiration. That course of action changed, however, with a sudden, and particularly unkind, knocking. That alone was jarring enough since I almost never get unexpected guests, but added to that was a gruff and equally unkind voice calling my name through the door. 

Hesitantly I opened the door and a man who looked as gruff as his voice asked, "Patrick Corrigan?" "Uh huh..." "You have a court summons. Someone has a lawsuit filed against you." Then tearing the top sheet of paper from his clipboard for himself, he handed me the balance of the papers and said as he walked away, "Have a nice day."

"...Thank you..."

Stunned, I retreated inside and slumped onto the couch.  I looked blankly at the pages in my hand, my spinning brain trying to make sense of what had just happened. Someone was suing me? Who would possibly want to sue me?! ...Oh.  ...Collections.

My medical bills have soared in the past couple years because of a pair of blood clots I'd somehow created. That situation has been resolved and I am no longer in extraordinary danger of another one, but still the financial residue lingers.  I have been focusing on the main bills from the doctors and clinics, so some of the 'side' bills, like lab work, really have gotten shuffled to the side.  Until now that is! Now it was at the forefront of my mind and I could feel old anxieties starting to creep up my spine and sit heavily on my shoulders. I began having flashbacks of the year that my ex-wife was going through cancer treatment (She fully recovered), and I was having multiple panic attacks a day because I was scared to death that I was going to go to jail because I wouldn't be able to pay the medical bills.

"Oh great! There's that fear again." Recognizing it and rationally countering the thought didn't do much to relieve it.  The hamster was still diligently keeping the wheel of anxiety spinning in my head.   

After spinning for awhile I realized I needed an outside perspective to anchor the proverbial snowball rolling out of control downhill through my mind, so I called my best friend. As usual she was able to help me feel better and gain a little bit of hope. The only thing was that she lives half way across the country from me, so once we hung up, though with elevated spirits, I was again alone. 

Deciding that this was not a favorable condition at the time, I texted a couple nearby friends to see if I could come hang out there for awhile.  They helped alleviate most of my fears and I calmed considerably when they finally convinced me I wasn't going to go to jail. Then one of them surprised me by offering to loan me the money. Wow! I suddenly had a way out!

I left feeling much restored, with a plan, or at least a worse-case-scenario, but there was still a background of anxiety about having to deal with the collection agency, whom everyone reminded me were souless, crazed animals just out for blood. 

I slept in fits and starts that night. Though I no longer felt absolute doom toward the outcome of this adventure, I still had to walk through the rings of fire and communicate with those blood-crazed animals. I had my doubts about whether I was up to the task, and these doubts buzzed restlessly through my nerves, brain, and emotions all night. 

I got up in time to call my day job to let them know I had something I had to take care of and that I'd be in later. Then I took advantage of that time to snooze for an hour after my restless night. Finally I mustered my energy, gathered all the pertinent papers and information, and with anxious heart prepared to make the call...

...Wait! 

...What am I doing? 

...This isn't the shamanic way of doing things. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Everything has a purpose. Everything is a gift. This is not an accident. And as a shaman, I must approach everything from the standpoint of wholeness, non-duality, spiritual depth. Everything I do must be toward healing. Everything I do is ceremony.

...Ceremony! I get up and bustle about gathering various shamanic tools and patching together a makeshift altar. I lay out a piece of deer leather upon which I light the candle that I use for shamanic work that sits on my reindeer candle holder. I also light a prayer candle with a sticker printed from one of my comics -- a drawing of a stained-glass style "Saint Davy (Crockett)" with the prayer, "Keep me always mindful that my life is an adventure."

Then I place the court summons on the altar, blessing and thanking it for the opportunity to grow and bolster my courage and power. Next to it I lay my phone. Finally I light some sage, cedar, and lavender in my smudging bowl for clearing, protection, and calmness, respectively, and using a bird wing I smudge the space and myself with the cleansing smoke. I set the still smoldering concoction on the court summons then pick up my drum. I drum in the four directions, the upper world above my head, the lower world below my feet, and the compassionate spirits of the middle world where I stand. I ask all my guides and ancestors to be with me, and feeling the non-physical breeze of spirit, I thank them for their presence.

With sacred space set, I sit down in front of the altar, close my eyes, and breathe. I consciously drop from the chaos of my mind into my heart. I acknowledge and say a prayer of blessing and gratitude for whomever I end up speaking to, opening my third eye to see the divinity and oneness of this as-of-yet unknown person. I take a couple more deep breaths... And I call. 

I ended up speaking to a very pleasant and genuinely kind woman who listened patiently to my teary story as I just blubbered out my situation and my fears. If she were blood-hungry, she must have just eaten because there was no hostility from her whatsoever. In fact she was downright helpful and sympathetic. This was not the result everyone had predicted nor what I had previously been expecting. Through the entire call I had a mantra running through the back of my mind, "Thank you Goddess thank you Goddess thank you Goddess thank you Goddess thank you!"

When I hung up, I just collapsed back on the floor where I sat. "THANK YOU!!"  I thanked all the spirits who'd been there to support me as I released them along with the sacred space I'd created. And I sighed. A big, deep inhale followed by a long, audible, exhale that left me peacefully empty of inner turmoil. 

I accepted my friend's offer and paid off the debt, grateful for the experience and the revelations it had brought with it. I was also thankful for the deeper taste of compassion I now had for those who find themselves in such situations regularly.  And stepping into the New Year, I keep myself mindful that my every step is ceremony, that spirits surround me awaiting the invitation to help, and that my life is an adventure.

Leave It To Beaver

Not long ago I wrote a blog post about a journey I did where I met some beavers (Those Dam Beavers).  The interesting thing, as with many journeys, is that sometimes it is waaaaaaay after the fact when some additional meaning falls into place.

This journey was in reference to my latest adventure with a blood clot and how to heal it (which, by the way, is now officially healed, which means I am back off the blood thinners and able to eat my veggies again!).  In the course of talking to the lead beaver, he'd told me that I'd been "too busy."  I have to admit that, though I kinda got a sense of what he meant, I didn't totally comprehend the deeper meaning.

It had been my being 'too busy' that had dammed up my veins, creating the clot.  I was expending too much energy running around trying to figure things out but nothing was really getting done, thus I was just spinning my wheels and all that excess energy was being internalized.  With no where to go, this energy inundated my system, swelling and blocking my river of blood.  That's the part I got.  Kinda. Still, I wondered, if it wasn't reshaping my outer world, was I really too busy?  I still had to get things done, right?

Once I began to get on with my life I started slowing down a bit, and spending a little more time outside in Nature at special personal sacred spots to recharge my batteries.  Through this I began to taste an increasingly intoxifying wellspring that I'd all but forgotten about.  I began to plum depths of my soul that I hadn't swam through in years.  I started remembering who I am.

Thats when the bigger meaning sank in. Ooooooooooh! Right! That whole action/stillness/action/stillness thing, like breathing -- inhale/exhale/inhale/exhale. It's the same death/rebirth cycle I talk of so often. The seed requires the dark, silent womb of the earth to sleep in before sprouting forth into the sunlight to express in action and growth the deepest dreams it dreamed while sleeping in the earth.  And we can not run endlessly without rest and rejuvenation. The metaphors are endless, but what it comes down to is, to make effective change in the world -- to create the world and life I want that reflects my True Self -- I actually need to be in touch with that True Self.  I have to be that True Self.  This brings to mind (again) what Sandra Ingerman says: "It's not what you do but who you become that changes the world." I have to remember how to just be again.

The biggest, brightest bulb of revelation in this whole experience has to be the rediscovery and re-indentification of myself as an Introvert. Ironically it was the entering of a new relationship that really brought this home for me as I needed to juggle together-time and alone-time. I remember years ago, while talking to my counselor, how totally blown away I was  when she, almost casually, remarked, "You know, the common denominator of everything we're talking about seems to be your need for space, whether it's mental, emotional, or physical." I was dumbstruck by the absolute truth of that statement.

And so to validate this need, and to legitimize my seemingly abnormal requirements for space I delved into researching introversion, having read a really good book on it called The Introvert Advantage by Marti Olsen Laney some years ago when I was still married, and when it was basically the only information out there on the subject.  I was pleasantly surprised, and ironically a little overwhelmed, by the wealth of info I found and the number of introverts that had come out of the closet in the intervening years to share their experiences and normalize this misunderstood temperament.  And the deeper I delved, the more of myself I recognized, and the more I realized that a huge number of things that I thought were wrong with me, that needed correcting, were actually hard-wired into me and, in a society that glorifies the extrovert, I just never learned, to this day, how to truly take care of myself.  I realized this is why my marriage broke up.  I realized this is why I started having anxiety and panic attacks.  I realized a lot of things and unnecessary hardships and struggles in my life were caused by this simple lack of recognition of who I am and how I work, and thus how to take care of myself.

There is a small part of me that grieves the last 7 or 8 years since my divorce and how much different it could have been had I learned these things earlier and been able to give myself the space I needed to, for example, spend time alone some weekends watching mindless movies without feeling guilty that I wasn't accomplishing anything.  How different it would have been to recognize my processes and allow my buried true self to emerge.

But all things in their time!  That is the past and my point of power is in the present! I am learning now, amidst much excitement and a sense of remembering something long forgotten, a deeper level of who I am.  Another layer of the onion has been peeled away.  Not only am I learning to ask for the space I require within relationships, whatever they are, in order to maintain a healthy relationship, I'm learning to give to myself those same necessities of space --quality space-- to allow the inner processes, which my outer reality depends on, to flow uninhibited.  I'm beginning to be more serious about the importance of fitting meditation and Tai-chi into my schedule as well as solitude time in Nature.  And most of all I am enjoying and loving the person I am finding buried beneath it all.

So golly thanks Beave. You've helped make life more swell.

Those Dam Beavers

I realized recently that I hadn't posted to my blog for quite a while, that the last post was about my Emergency Room experience with a blood clot, and that I should probably post something else if for no other reason than to let people know that I have not shuffled off this mortal coil, met an untimely end, and am not an ex-human (though there are times I do pine for the fjords).  In fact I am doing very well, getting healthier all the time, and am quite excited about my life.  And, as Nathaniel told me in the ER, I have found a new reason to be grateful for that experience, but I will get to that some other time.

I have experienced quite a shift in attitude since that occurrence and find myself approaching things totally differently.  Using healing around this event (recounted in my last post Stayin' Alive) as an example, my mind-set is such that healing is the inevitable and foregone conclusion, and all I need to do is open to be guided to it. Instead of asking the Universe, "Will I get there?" the question is, "What do I need to do to get there?"

The image I get in my mind of this is from the video game The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time.  At some point in the game, the hero acquires a 'hookshot' which is a spring-loaded chain with a hook on the end so you can shoot it, it hooks into where you aimed it, then it draws you across.  You set your intention then the Universe pulls you straight to it.

(Okay. So, yes, I do know this picture is actually from "Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker.") 

So with all this in mind, I did a journey to find out why I'd gotten the clot, what its gift was, and how I go about healing it.


I went to Nathaniel to ask about the clot but couldn't find him. Then Meryl, my Pelican animal guide, showed up.  She flew me somewhere until below us was a red river. There were other rivers of red laid out nearby, like a bird's eye view of the landscape from the movie Tron and the network of circuits. At one point Meryl started circling down til she landed in the river.

In front of us and blocking the river was a beaver dam, and there were 2 or 3 beavers who appeared crazy, like tweaking out on too much caffeine... "Gotta build!! Gotta build!!" After talking to the 'lead' beaver, once he calmed down, he said I was working too hard.  But all the energy I should be expending to build my world outside was going inside and blocking me rather than expanding me.

I asked what I had to do to unblock it, and he said, "Look! It's already clear." At that point I started coughing in Ordinary Reality, and when I went back and looked, the river of blood was clear. To keep it clear, tai chi and meditation would help, and I'm to sit and picture my blood as rivers of light every day -- feeding and nurturing every part and cell of my body. "Be comfortable in your body.  Be your body."

 I am still on blood thinners until I get the okay from the medical doctors, who are doing tests to see if they can find a reason this happened twice within a couple years, but I know within my heart that this clot is gone, and that whatever caused this situation will be healed, is healed.

And I thank all my physical and non-physical companions for their prayers and energy that aided me in getting to this point on my path.  My appreciation is boundless. 

Stayin' Alive

This is the second, and the biggest, of the three events I've mentioned in earlier posts that have shaken my world recently by happening in rapid succession, bringing with them much anxiety and depression with no room to breathe or process one incident before the next one hits.  The first was my previous post "Schrodinger's Car."  

During that adventure, I was without my car for an entire week.  During that week, basically home bound, other than the rides begged from coworkers to and from work, and not able to get anywhere on my own, I noticed something peculiar with my leg.  There was a spot on my upper calf that was tender to the touch and felt like a bruise.  "Huh..." I thought, then went about my business.  It didn't hurt other than when I touched it, so I just wouldn't touch it.  Over the course of a few days, though, it turned pink, and this pink streak started to move up to, then just past my knee.  Again it didn't hurt other than being sensitive to the touch, and I thought it was an allergic reaction to something or a rash.  It seemed to follow the seam of my jeans so I started calculating how long it had been since I'd done laundry -- perhaps my jeans were extra dirty and my skin was reacting?  And it really did appear to be just skin deep.  

So I did laundry.  Still the pink remained, stretching slowly up my thigh.  I kept trying to ignore it, because I didn't have a car to drive to the doctor with, plus I'd had a blood clot last year and it had healed, so what are the chances of it being another one?  Well, as the days stretched on without a car, and the feelings of helplessness and vulnerability increased, it was harder to chase those thoughts away.  Finally I got my car back but, my doctor not being open on the weekends, I had a couple more days' wait til I could see her.   

By the time I got in to see her I'd convinced myself again that it was nothing.  In fact, expecting it to be a quick visit on my lunch break, I figured I'd wait to grab lunch on my way back to work.  Wrong answer.

My doctor, a Naturopath, took one look at my leg and her whole cheerful, optimistic demeanor disappeared.  "Guess where you're goin'?" She said as she pulled some paper work out of a folder and began filling it out. "Oh no," was my only reply.  I'd been through this eerily familiar scenario the year before so I knew exactly where she was sending me -- for an ultrasound to check for a blood clot. And there was no daddling.  Other than pausing to give me a long, reassuring hug, she sped me on my way.

Oh no...  Not again... Okay...  I've been here before...  I can do this...

So I wasn't surprised when the ultrasound revealed a clot, or being put into a wheel chair and carted down to the ER.  It was an experience of a detached deja-vu, and I was pretty much resolved to dealing with whatever the Universe had in store for me.  I'd survived the first time.  This time I may just need to dig a little deeper into the spiritual reasons this popped into my reality a second time. 

At the same time there seemed to be something different.  My wheel-chair chauffeur even mentioned this one was a little scarier than the first. I'm still not sure exactly why, and I didn't really want to know.  I just wanted to get in, and get the treatment so I could set those worries aside and not be concerned about dropping dead at any moment.

They wheeled me in to the ER, got me officially checked in, and then, contrary to the last time where they wheeled me into a room and instantly started taking care of me, they wheeled me back out to the lobby saying they'd call me in as soon as the doctor was available.  

Alright.  Now I was starting to freak out a bit.  After being told how serious this was, I was sitting in the lobby waiting.  It didn't help that it was closing in on evening and I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since breakfast. I really started to think in terms of 'what if I don't make it this time?'  My wait seemed an eternity of anxiety waves washing over me, spiking, then retreating.  Still, there was a bit of satisfaction that I didn't fall into full-on panic attack.  

I was momentarily relieved when they finally wheeled me back into a room.  But after hooking me up to the machines that go 'bing' and taking some blood, I found myself again alone and waiting.  This was a bit maddening because, from the last time I'd experienced this, I knew as soon as I got the first blood thinner I'd be safe -- that would prevent any part of the clot from breaking off and entering my heart, brain, or lungs -- but until then I was afraid I could go at any moment, so what were they waiting for?!

Through the experience I was able to call a couple people, including my mom since I honestly didn't know if I were getting out of this alive, and I texted a bunch of friends to send prayers and healing energy.  One of my friends reminded me of the card I had pulled just the day before at our Sacred Pipe Circle --

It is actually a page from a desk top calendar, but how fitting is that?  She more than anybody helped me stay in my body and remain present through the experience, keeping me mindful of the spiritual reasons and bigger picture that was going on (Thank you Tara!).

Finally I received my first treatment of blood thinner, which was a huge relief.  So I can go home now, right? Nope.  They were concerned about my heart rate and didn't want to let me go til it came down a bit.  The whole time I was thinking to myself, "If you just let me go home, it'll come down on its own!"  Because I hadn't had anything to drink all day they started me on some liquids to rehydrate me which can affect heart rate, and that did have a positive effect -- At least until they came in with an EKG machine to check my heart, and I got the feeling they were waiting to see if I were going to have a heart attack or something.  I'm sure my anxiety peaked again.  And despite any attempts to meditate or give myself reiki, it felt like a losing battle and I just couldn't calm down.  I was looking my mortality in the face and wasn't sure I'd make it. 

Though I didn't go into full-blown panic attack, the anxiety I was experiencing was bringing back some oh-too-familiar feelings and thoughts.  It wasn't death that I was afraid of.  I'd had enough experiences through meditation, shamanic journeys, and psychopomp (helping souls who had passed to get to the light), that I knew there was nothing to fear there.  No.  My biggest fear was failing all the people who loved me.  All the people currently expressing their love and support and healing thoughts... If I were to die anyway, it felt like a huge betrayal of them.  It felt like a huge expectation that I didn't know if I had the energy to fill.  And I would be a loser for not being able to take care of myself, and for letting my anxiety run away with me unfettered until my heart couldn't handle it anymore.  It would be my fault and I would let down all the people who look up to me, and they would see me for the fake I really am.  

Through all of that, I did find a point of surrender that I hadn't felt since my Vision Quest four years earlier.  The last night of my quest I spent in the sweat lodge, but believe me there was no sweating going on.  It was in the first half of May, and it still got really, really cold at night, and I was so cold I didn't know if I would make it til morning.  At some point I just totally surrendered, and said a prayer that, if it was my time to go -- Here I am.  Take me.  As you probably have already guessed, I didn't die then.  In fact, shortly after that the sun began to rise and things began to warm up.  And then I heard chanting, and when I looked around to see who was singing, I realized it was the stone people in the center of the lodge, left from the first sweat we'd done to begin my ceremony.  It was the voices of the Grandfathers, heralding the completion of my ordeal, and then whispering in my ear my new Spirit Name.

I think it finally dawned on me then that this whole experience in the ER was part of another Vision Quest for me.  So I closed my eyes and told Goddess that, if it were her will and it was time for me to leave this life, then I was ready for her to take me.  I just kind of surrendered and let go of eveything, not knowing what to expect, least of all what happened next.  

As I sat there, anxieties still raging around me and threatening to tear me apart while I buffered my willingness to surrender to whatever Divine plan awaited me, a portal of sorts opened before me, like a window just in front of my third eye.  And as I looked in amazement trying to figure out what was happening, these hands and arms reached through the portal, grasped me, and pulled me through -- not into death but into life.  Somehow I realized that these were the hands of all those I would help in the future, reaching back and pulling me into the reality where I do live and still make a difference in the world - in their worlds.  

That's when I flashed on the following scene, perhaps my favorite in the entire Ruruoni Kenshin series, about a former samurai assassin who took a pledge never to kill again, carrying a samurai sword that has its blade on the non-business side...  

...because instantly I was aware that it did matter if I lived or died -- That if I still had things to accomplish in this life I wasn't going anywhere.  That rather than being ready to die, I had also to be ready to live.  I had to live, for my sake and the sake of everyone who I'd help.  I had to stay alive.

A dear friend arrived to keep me company in the ER, and I credit her presence for calming me enough that they would release me, and am so grateful to her and her house mates for allowing me to spend that night at their place.  Though I was coming down, my anxieties were still all over the place, and I felt better not having to spend the night alone.  I took the following day off of work to walk in the woods and to ground.  I had some dried apples someone had given me a couple months ago, and I took them to a special Hawthorne tree I know, and emptied the bag at the roots.  An offering of gratitude to all in the spirit realm, the realm of the Fae, and the physical realm, who had aided in my standing there once more upon the earth.  "Thank you Goddess."

                             ***                                           

As a bit of an epilogue, at one point in the ER I was talking to Nathaniel, my reindeer spirit guide, and he told me, "One day you will be grateful for this."  Seeing as I was not having the time of my life, I assumed he meant some day, way down the line.  I didn't need to wait quite that long.

Thanksgiving arrived shortly after this all went down, and a friend gathered with her family, as people are wont to do on such occasions.  Her Brother was there and was complaining about his leg bothering him for no reason.  My recent ER experience still fresh in her mind, my friend told him that he'd better get it checked out because it could be a clot.  A couple days later he had it checked out and it turns out he did in fact have a blood clot.  So my experience, as rough as it was, actually helped save someone else's life.  How can I not be grateful for that?