For Kirin Out Loud

                             

It started a few days ago, though I'm not sure how it exactly began. Being endlessly fascinated by words and puns, I suddenly found myself pondering what a Shroud of Kirin (instead of the famous Shroud of Turin) would look like. I mentally wrapped my hypothetical Kirin, a very dragon-like Japanese unicorn, with a death shroud in various ways, contemplating different positions for my beast and how its image would impress itself upon the white cloth.

To aid me in my research, I found some images online from which to draw, in order to familiarize myself with the basics of the Kirin form. One particular drawing of a roaring, gaping-jawed head would not release me from its hypnotic gaze, and that evening when I attended a meditation group, each time I closed my eyes I saw the liquid form of the Kirin undulating before me, it's fearsome face close to my own. Then, in half-remembered dream-like flashes, it was joined by companions who swooped and twisted and swirled gracefully about each other as if in an underwater ballet, their manes and whiskers flowing about them like muppet hair. 

And that wasn't the end of it. The next day I had to get a new phone, and as I was talking to the store worker, I noticed something...

"Is that a Kirin tattoo on your arm?"

"Yes it is! I'm surprised you knew that. Most people don't"

...Yeah. When a Power Animal wants to be noticed, they know how to get my attention.

So I read a little about them, finding out the basics, but feeling I needed to know more, particularly because I had decided to feature Kirin in my weekly "Totem Tuesday" post on my Perching Wolf Studios page on Facebook, I realized I needed to talk to Kirin in person. So I journeyed. 

The rattle had hardly commenced its rhythmic beat, with which my brain had just barely begun to shift into entrainment, when suddenly a huge Kirin face loomed, almost nose to nose with me. I was startled at the size of the head as well as its abrupt appearance before me, and simultaneously I felt engulfed in that sense of awe which accompanies being in the presence of royalty. 

...No. Not royalty. The presence of a god. 

I bowed before him (I think I called him "Your Excellency") and said what an honor it was to stand before him. He replied by telling me I need not bow and that he was here for me, at which he closed his eyes and lowered his great head over an extended cloven hoof. As I watched this display of humility, I just could not get over his size. I guessed he would be a relatively large animal, having read comparisons to deer or oxen, but he was HUGE. He reminded me of the Luck Dragon from the movie,  Neverending Story. He also reminded me very much of the Chinese Dragon dance costumes I'd seen, in size, appearance, and in the way he moved.

He rose upright again, towering over me, and though he stood in one place, he seemed to be in constant motion. His massive head bobbed and swayed back and forth, and looking at his body was like watching a single point in a river with its surface riding the tireless rise and fall of its waves. Perhaps it was the distortion of the air from the heat of his body. Is that why they are often depicted surrounded by flames? His energy was much more dynamic than the stable, earthy energy of Amaranth, my Western Unicorn spirit guide. 

Finally, my sense of awe having receded just enough for me to form cohesive thoughts again, I asked him what his medicine was. Why was he here? 

"As I said, I am here for you. I am the guardian of thresholds, appearing when one has crossed a particular initiatory point and stepped into authority. I close the door behind you to the old paths you needn't experience again. I am the harbinger of the arrival of a new dawn, ripe with endless possibilities."

I knew from my reading that Kirins only ever really appeared at the birth or establishment of a wise sage or a benevolent ruler. I don't know that I'm either of those things, but apparently I had leveled up. This made me wonder -- if he were here for me, now that his message had been delivered would he be off to Kirin-land, or was he going to be around for awhile?

"I'm here to see you through the establishment of this new chapter. I will be your guardian and protector."

"Cool! So you'll be here a while. I should probably know you're name then."

"Zobastenay."

"...How bout I call you Zoe?"

A Life in the Day

Last week I experienced my first Past Life Regression. I've had thoughts and 'memories' that have arisen before that I've attributed to past lives -- miniature flashbacks to a moment that didn't belong to me or this lifetime -- but although I was aware of these happenings on the fringes of my consciousness, until last week I hadn't ever purposely explored them, so when a local metaphysical store offered a class on them, including an actual regression, I jumped at the chance.

After talking about what she does, about past lives, and about hypnosis, the instructor began to lead us on the experiential portion of the evening. She started us out at a place of safety, and thus I found myself lying in the back of my family's RV, which was my favorite place to be when we took family camping trips to various parts of the country when I was a kid. I have never felt as safe as I did in the back of the camper, all wrapped up in a cozy sleeping bag, the open window above my head blowing full on my face as I watched the ever flowing dance of car lights and darkness on the ceiling while my dad drove through the night toward our destination, the muffled voices of he and my mom up front mingled with Chet Atkins' guitar licks from the eight-track player. My blood pressure drops just thinking of that. 

From that point she had us meet and merge with a self of ours from our future, in this lifetime, who has knowledge and experience doing this work. Then as that self we walked down a hallway with a row of doors on either side, eventually being directed to choose a door. The door I was drawn to was wooden and round, like a hobbit door, which easily swung open with a gentle push, and I stepped through.  

Instantly I found myself outside, surrounded by a coniferous forest. I looked around, throwing a glance behind me to see if the door was still there. It was and I smiled when I saw it hanging open from the trunk of a huge tree. I faced forward again, and through the trees I saw a stone house in a clearing. It wasn't my house and, though I wasn't afraid, I knew I needed to avoid it, so I backed away while simultaneously nocking an arrow, just in case... "OH WOW!" I thought, "I have a bow and arrows!" My excitement swelled until I realized that Sherwood Forest was probably more deciduous than this. But still... Bow and arrows!! I looked down at my feet and saw soft leather moccasin boots. I'm Native American, and the house was that of a settler and, though I had no ill will toward them, I couldn't be sure of the same from them. I continued backing away, amazed and almost alarmed at how silent I was in executing my retreat. There was no crunching through the underbrush that I'm so familiar with this present lifetime, but 'back then' not even a snapping twig belied my presence.

With gentle prompting, I moved to a little later in the day where I found myself deeper in the forest at night, lounging against a log in front of a fire where the game I'd shot earlier, possibly a boar, was roasting. Then, as our guide ushers us forward again to the next morning, I find myself at a small river where I drank from cupped hands before dowsing my face and hair with water. 

Then moving to a significant point in that life, I find myself in a teepee, looking into the eyes of my beloved as my heart swells with love and joy. Our backstory is instantly deposited into my mind.  I know that I left my own tribe to be with her and that she is the daughter of a chief, which means it was extra challenging to prove my worthiness for her. Apparently presenting him with 10 buffalo hides that I'd personally hunted and prepared was proof enough of my worth. 

With that thought I flashed back to another point in that lifetime where I saw a huge buffalo not too far away from where I'd snuck up on it at the edge of some trees. It turned and started walking slightly away from me, and when its stride revealed the patch of skin behind the elbow, with sudden certainty I knew that that was the spot where a single arrow could take down the great animal.

My focus returned to life with my beloved, and a scene unfolded of children surrounding me, laughing and playing and wrestling around. As it turns out, we had no children of our own, but, just as I find myself in my present life, I was the adopted favorite uncle to all the children of the tribe. I was the Storyteller and my purpose was to tell of the old ways, to keep them alive in the hearts of the youth who would one day lead the tribe. 

Again we were guided ahead to a significant moment, and l find myself an old man, embracing my beloved beneath a buffalo hide as we stand watching the tepees of the village being taken down and prepped for travel. It's cold, a trace of snow on the ground, and we are being forced to move to a reservation. I am disheartened, as well as concerned for my beloved, uncertain she can survive the trip. I consider staying behind with her, finding a secluded place in the forest where the whites won't find us, but our family talks me out of such an idea, and I see the wisdom of staying with the group. 

One more time we are prompted ahead, though I don't remember if it was to another significant point or if it were specifically to our passing. Regardless, my death in that lifetime was the next significant event. I was even older, and I believe alone now, having lost my wife years before. One afternoon, out of the blue, I just felt this strange sense of completeness, like a gentle bell going off inside. I stood up and walked into the woods. I had been with others at the time but there were no goodbyes, or words of any kind to anyone there. I just got up and walked away, as if someone had knocked on the door and I'd gone to answer it. I found a spot under a tree with a slight concave to the trunk so as to cradle and hold my old body comfortably, and there I sat watching the beautiful rays of the sun setting for the last time through the branches and leaves, feeling an exhilaration and expansion as my life seeped out of my body and into all the teeming life that surrounded me. 

Shortly thereafter our guide called us back to the future. As I immediately began to think about my trip into the past, there was a quality -- a solidity -- to the experience that I recognized from all the shamanic journeying I've done, which, along with that sense of it having a life of its own with the unexpected surprises and insights I received, added credence to the whole thing. This was not simply whispy daydreams and imaginings. This was an experience.

Of course the mind likes to have its own validation as well, so I googled a few things when I got home. I discovered that the place on the buffalo I'd denoted as the most vulnerable was indeed the best spot for a kill, the heart beating directly behind it. Later, as further validation, When telling a friend about this, she said that an arrow, especially prior to modern hunting tips, may not pierce deep enough for a kill, but that when an animal is injured like that, they always lie on the ground for the earth energy to heal the wound, and in this case the great weight of the buffalo would drive the shaft completely into the heart for an instant death. It took me a minute to pick my jaw up off the floor after that. 

The other thing I researched online had to do with the fact that at some point our guide asked us when and where we were, and instantly "Wyoming, 1832" flashed into my head. Well, in the 1800s, 'Wyoming' encompassed a much larger territory than today, and there were multiple tribes in and passing through that area during that time period. The interesting thing is that the significant thing that happened specifically in 1832 was that the Cheyenne tribe split into a Northern and a Southern contingent. I don't know if I were North or South, but this leads me to believe I was Cheyenne, whose tradition it was, interestingly enough, for the man to leave his tribe and family to join that of his wife. 

So, for a relatively short and generalized group session, I'm very pleased with the volume of information and experience I've been able to glean from it. Plus I know it's just the tip of the iceberg, and now that I have the initial foothold into this new area of self exploration, I'll be making many more expeditions into this new 'undiscovered country' of mine. Who knows? Maybe next time I'll find Sherwood!

Turning Up the AC

There is something I do that most people don't know about. I don't advertise it on my website (yet) because, though I have got nothing but favorable feedback, and a large contingent of my clients approach me  specifically for this by word of mouth alone, it has been an area where I feel the least confident. The area I'm talking about is Animal Communication (AC -- get it?). Yes, Doctor Doolittle stuff.

At one point I was in a program where I was training to be an Animal Communicator, but I ended up leaving because I was being pulled in more shamanic directions (he says as if Animal Communication isn't shamanic). But even as I was deepening my shamanic skills, the animals kept communicating.

People kept finding me in dribs and drabs, usually referred by a friend of theirs I'd helped, and I would agree to help them, even though inside I questioned my skills and whether I was really helping. Afterwards I'd always feel exhilarated, a sure sign that I really was doing what I thought I was doing, and my clients would be so grateful, to the point of insisting on sending me money even if at the time I wasn't charging for my services. 

So this has been going on for years as just something I did on the side while building my shamanic business. Then a couple months ago a psychic friend of mine invited me to this weekly Psychic Showcase she goes to, and not having seen my friend for a very long time, I went mostly for the purpose of reconnecting with her, and just to see what this showcase was about. At least that's what I thought I was going for. 

Shortly after arriving, my friend introduced me to the woman who hosts these evenings, and after hugging me, she turned to my friend and said something along the lines of, "So when I cue you, you will introduce him and let him talk about what he does for about 5 minutes or so." 

*GULP!*

So much for just relaxing and observing -- It was showtime! So I found myself standing in front of a room full of strangers, including a panel of professional psychics, talking about Shamanism and Soul Retrievals and such. I'm always surprised at such times by how much I really do know, and the confidence with which the words come out of my mouth. 

"But you talk to animals too, right?" Inquired the hostess. Crap! How did she kn...? Oh!... Yeah... Psychic duh!... 

"Yes I do," I answered in a decidedly more sheepish voice than the one that had previously been speaking from my lips. 

So for a few more minutes I talked about Animal Communication, almost apologetically, before finally getting to sit down and relax again. "Phew!" I sighed with relief. Showtime was over -- Or so I thought. 

The showcase ended and people began to disperse, so I went up to the front table, where the psychics sit, to hang out with my friend. We'd been sitting there talking for maybe five minutes when, from out of nowhere, the hostess just sort of materialized, took my hand, and dragging me behind her said, "C'mon, you have a couple of readings." Show time was not over. 

She steered me to a table where she said, "You can do them here." Then slipping some cash into my hand said, "This one is ten minutes, and the second is fifteen."

So I did two readings, out of the blue, and made a little extra money on the side. I was pleased with myself for rising to the occasion, but boy, did I ever breathe a sigh of relief when it was done! 

A few weeks later I returned. Again I was going mostly to see my friend, but thought if I could do a couple more readings, that would be great too. As it turns out, my friend couldn't make it, but encouraged me to go anyway because she had a sense that something important was going to happen for me there. 

I'd been a little anxious lately and thought, if nothing else, I'd get a mini reading that might give me some insights on why. When you arrive at the showcase, you pay a few dollars and in return receive an envelope, upon whose corner you write your date of birth, then place something with your energy inside it.  These envelopes are given randomly to the various psychics at the front of the room who then, while eating their dinner and such, write mini readings on the envelopes based on what they pick up from the date and contents. 

My envelope handed in, I found a seat near some friends of my friend, that I'd met the first time I'd come.  They both prompted me to tell the hostess of the event I was there so I could do readings.  At first the hostess didn't remember me, but then said, "Well, why don't you sit up there then?" Indicating an empty chair at one of the psychics' tables. 

*Gulp!*

I took my seat, reassuring myself that I did have my Medicine Cards along, as I always do, and I could always just pull a card or two for each envelope, giving each one a mini card reading.  So that is exactly what I did for the first couple envelopes I was handed. Phew! I got this!  Then came the announcement that made me shrink down in my chair -- "And Patrick does Animal Communication so anyone who has pets you'd like him to talk to, make sure you let me know when you give me your envelope."

Because I need a photo to tune into a particular animal, people were going to have to bring their cellphones up to me when I called out the birthdate on each envelope, so I could see a picture and then read live on the spot. There was absolutely nothing I could do to prepare. There was nothing for me to write without a photo to connect with. I sat there helplessly watching my stack of envelopes grow ever higher, while those of my peers steadily and casually diminished to nothing.

I was pretty close to the tipping point into full unbridled panic. I thought about getting up and whispering to the hostess that I was sorry but I just couldn't do this, then just walking out. I also thought of running screaming from the room. Still I sat. THIS must be the 'something important' my friend had predicted so, as anxious as I was, I had to see it through. 

The dreaded moment came and it was my turn to stand up. I read the first envelope's date and a woman walked up to present me with her phone. Deep breath. I looked at the cat in the photo, surrendering to whatever the process is in my mind that lets me connect to another soul.  I paused. I broke out into hysterical laughter. Laughter broke out sporadically through the room. The hostess looked at me with a nervous smile and asked out loud what we were laughing about. Suppressing another giggle, I took another breath and announced, "He said, 'Who the hell are you?!'" The woman next to me got a big grin on her face as she nodded saying, "Yep! That's him!"

With each envelope my anxiety decreased and my confidence increased. Again I felt the authority rising into my voice as over and over people signaled the authenticity of what I said, some with laughter and nods, others by breaking into tears. So much in the flow was I that it didn't even bother me when one or two of my fellow psychics made comments to make me think they were feeling displaced and jealous by the time and attention I was giving and receiving, which was but a result of the nature of the readings. 

Once it was all done, alot of people came up to me to thank me in person and hug me, a couple of them still wiping away tears. I found my way to the hostess and thanked her profusely for letting me sit at the big kid's table and do readings. Then I headed home, thinking to myself, "I probably should list Animal Communication on my website."

Alandria's Tree

I recently had an appointment with a mentor of mine, and though the conversation itself I will keep close to my own heart for the moment, something happened immediately following this meeting that is well worth recounting.

There was much to ponder and integrate after such a fruitful, dynamic talk, and thus I felt myself drawn to the trees, the best folk I know of  for bearing silent witness and holding sacred space. I found my way to a little wood overlooking Puget Sound -- A wood who's existence I wasn't even aware of until a friend mentioned it in passing not long before.  So here I was exploring the trails of this magickal, little wood, searching for a place to sit and ponder.  

For a brief time I perched in the low branches of a tree that had beckoned to me, where, nestled in her fork, I dozed against her trunk. This was not the spot, however. It was right alongside the main trail, and I'd already gotten strange looks from a man who passed close by, yet who refused to meet my eyes. 

Off I set deeper into the woods, further off the main trail, feeling as though there were something calling me. Joking to myself about my "Holy Quest" as I navigated the narrow dirt path over logs and under branches, I stopped cold as I crested a short rise in the trail. I believe my mouth hung open as my heart almost burst from my chest. "No!" I thought. "It can't be!" Yet my racing heart told me it was true. Before me stood a tree, that, though my physical eyes had never fallen upon it, I knew very well.  This was the tree of Alandria!

Who is Alandria? Let me fill you in...

A couple years ago I took a workshop with Tom Cowan, one of the leading teachers and experts in Celtic Shamanism, on Faery Doctoring.  The workshop revolutionized the way I looked at the world and added a whole new dimension to my shamanic understanding.  It was like the Cosmos was already perfect and complete, when suddenly someone cries out, "But wait! There's more!" and opens a door you didn't realize was there, revealing an entirely new world next door to the old world that you thought you knew. It was literally like discovering Narnia.

As the name suggests, it is working with the Fae to perform healings, which as it turns out, are very similar to Soul Retrievals. Parts of a person's consciousness may leave to avoid trauma, a process called 'Soul Loss' in Shamanism and 'Dissociation' in modern Psychology, and during Soul Retrieval, the Shaman finds these errant 'soul parts' and returns them to the person, giving them a better sense of wholeness.

The Fae, who live in the Middle World alongside us and whose job it is to balance the energies between their unseen world and our seen world, will sometimes step in during such cases of Soul Loss and bring the disconnected soul part of a person into their realm where, rather than remaining at the same age that it was when it detached, the faeries nurture the part to grow at the same rate of expression it would have, had it remained with the person.  The Fae treasure such things as creativity and joyfullness, so by nurturing these properties in the soul parts they gather, they help maintain the balance of energies, and benefit both their realm and ours.

From this you can see how the volumes of stories about abductions by faeries, changeling babies, and other tales have grown up through the ages.  But as humanity has evolved, so too have the Fae, and especially in current times with so many people even just beginning to ponder the possibility of the existence of faeries, their world and ours grow ever closer, as does the relationship between us, meaning that, in general, such measures as abductions are no longer necessary. And the Fae are willing to return to us those soul parts when the time is appropriate, and when we can adequately receive them back.  However, in order to maintain the energetic balance between the realms, there must be an exchange.  When they return your soul part you must give something in return.  "Aha!" You cry, "There's the catch! "  You can relax.  They aren't after your first born.  What they want from us is Strength, Beauty, Creativity.  Usually the exchange they ask for is that the person seeking healing, as well as the Faery Doctor facilitating the healing, sing something every day for a week, or draw, or paint, or something similar -- Things that not only give them more creative energy to work with, but that improves us and raises our own vibrations as well.  It's a win-win situation.

So, because the Faery realms are not our home, at least at the moment, just like we require spirit guides for navigating the spirit worlds, we require advocates and helpers for the faerie worlds as well.  Enter Alandria.  In the aforementioned workshop we needed to make contact with our personal liaison to the land of the Fae, and as I was to discover, Alandria is mine.

Above is a drawing I did of Alandria as an exchange for a Faery Doctoring session when she requested that I make a drawing of what she looks like to me.

My other Faery guide, Eocharin, who appears as a two foot tall version of an extinct Irish Elk, is the one who led me to the tree, in a shamanic journey, that is the portal to the land of the Fae where Alandria lives.  My signal to her that I am there is to jump up and down on the ground three times.  Then Alandria appears, sometimes through the gap at the bottom of the tree that grows big enough to step through, or by simply unzipping the bark.  

Though I was told from the beginning that I would find this tree in the 'real' world, I had forgotten about it, and had no longer been scouring the woods looking for it.  So you can just imagine my shock and elation when there before me rose, in solid form, Alandria's tree.

I jumped up and down three times to let Alandria know I'd found her, then I sat, leaning against the trunk for quite a long time in a contemplative, meditative state (perhaps dozing off a time or two), taking in and processing the day's occurrences and the earlier conversation, with rare Seattle thunder rumbling overhead, adding an extra accent to the importance of my quest's completion.

And I sighed a sigh of gratitude for this increasingly amazing, unfolding path of mine.

Grandfather's Present

This morning on the way to work I was feeling a little off. I woke up a bit anxious, and despite a great, calming meditation session, some of the nervous energy was still clinging to me as I drove toward my day job.  At one point on my route, there's a corner that I turn where suddenly Mount Rainier fills the sky ahead of me, towering over everything. Even though this is a daily occurrence, it never fails to take my breath away, and I always greet Grandfather Mountain loudly and enthusiastically.

In my personal mythology, he is my Grandfather the way the moon is my Grandmother, which is something I adopted over the years from my exposure to both Pagan and Native American sources.  They look so similar in coloration and texture that it only makes sense to me that they are married.  In the twenty-something years since I transplanted to the Seattle area from Minnesota, I have developed a very personal relationship with Grandfather, and some of the best wisdom I've ever received I've gotten from him.  This morning was no different.

Because of my feelings of uncertainty, after saying my good-mornings to him, I asked if he had anything to share with me today.  The following is what I heard in the silence of my head --

"Breathe.  Even a great mountain does not stand on its own.  It needs the support of the earth beneath it and the sky above. You are here.  You are supported.  You are loved."

At first the "You are here" part confused me.  Then I realized that one of Grandfather's greatest messages, even without words, is his presence -- is being present. You are here, meaning 'you are present,' therefore you are supported by earth and sky.

So I began practicing presence -- the mindful presence of being grounded in my body rather than floating around in the mental/emotional realms.  "Own your space," as my friend Pixie told me once.  It is amazing how, when I allow myself to sink into my body, and be fully present in the moment, I really do feel supported... and loved.  It somehow seems ironic that it's when you let go of the world around you and focus on being your individual self, that you feel the most connected to everything around you. That connection is love.

Thank you Grandfather.  I love you too.

Grandmother's Tale

Last weekend I went camping with my girlfriend over in the Hoh Rain-forest, on the Olympic Peninsula on the Washington coast. It was a much needed break from the repetitivity of daily life, getting to laugh and talk, and just experience the awe of being among the ancient beauty and magnificence of the mountains and trees, as well as the rocky outcroppings scattered along the ocean shore. It was so healing on every level.

Being near Forks, Washington, the backdrop for the Twilight books and movies, I kept pointing out people and asking, "Vampire or werewolf?" Next we were commenting on the incredible creativity of the local powers-that-be for the names of the various beaches -- namely Beach 1, Beach 2, Beach 3, and Beach 4. Suddenly an equally creative sign, "Big Cedar Tree", zipped by us on the road, and my girlfriend immediately stopped, backed up, and followed the arrow on the sign. She had been to this area many times before and was showing me all her favorite places. This was one of them.

It really was a BIG cedar tree.  We walked around it in the silence of deep respect, then simultaneously reached out to touch her.  And I say "her" because almost immediately upon feeling the wood beneath my fingers and closing my eyes, I saw the image of an old woman with big rosy cheeks who smiled and asked to be called "Grandmother."

Shortly our revelry was interrupted by other pilgrims, so the two of us found our way onto a branch or root -- it was difficult to tell which -- where we just sat in reverence. After connecting with Grandmother I mentioned that I'd really like to journey and talk with her more.  I finally got my chance when we found ourselves once more alone, so I closed my eyes and sank into a light trance.  It was great to connect with her on a deeper level, but I realized I didn't know really what to say or ask, so in a spontaneous flash of inspiration, I asked Grandmother to tell me a story...

Once, long ago, Elk was happy.  Life was good and his medicine was strong, and because of this he watched his people grow in abundant numbers, spreading across their lands.  He also knew that to stay in balance with the earth mother, they would need to find new lands to spread their population.  Elk had heard promising stories of lands to the west, at the edge of the world where land met sea, so off he set to explore them, and the possibilities for the future. He walked very far, for a very long time, until even his great stamina began to lag, and he came at last to the ocean.  His thirst was almost unbearable, yet he found, amid some desperation, that he could not drink of the sea, so he wandered inland to slack his thirst.  His senses were dulled by his long journey and his great strength was waning as he sought unsuccessfully to find water. Even in his diminished state he marveled at the beauty of this land and how wonderful it would be for his people to dwell here, but what good is beauty if there was no water to sustain them? Finally he collapsed at the foot of a great tree expecting to breathe his last.  "Grandmother!" He pleaded to the tree, "Please! I am so thirsty! Help me!"  "Rest my child," Came the gentle reply. "Sleep now, and I will take care of you."  Elk needed no more encouragement to close his exhausted eyes and fall into a deep slumber.  And as he slept, Grandmother reached up into the night sky and summoned the rain beings, who fell delightedly to the earth.  Then Grandmother reached out with a couple of her branches, sheltering the sleeping elk's form and, at the same time, forming them into a bowl where she caught the rain water.  Then reaching deep into the ground with her roots, Grandmother drew up Earth medicine to infuse the healing waters which she held.  Elk awoke in the morning to the sound of water dripping from leaves and branches, and looked up to see this living basin emerging from Grandmother's trunk offering life giving waters. Without hesitation he drank his fill, feeling his strength and vitality return, mixed with the medicine of the Spirit of this place -- of Grandmother, of the earth, and of the sky. Having drank of this land, and thus becoming a part of this land, he instantly knew all the places to find fresh water and abundant food. And so it was that his people migrated to this area, where they flourish to this day.

Applying Torc

I recently took an online shamanic journey course with Sandra Ingerman and one evening's journey stood out from the rest. One of the reasons is the incredible timing of it, having happened just the night before a soul retrieval that a friend did for me, that was nothing short of epic. 

So this night's journey started out normally enough, if anything pertaining to journeying can ever be deemed 'normal.' Actually it was the 'new' normal, the origin point of my recent journeys having shifted from a beloved tree on the old Faerieworlds site to the High Falls on the Pigeon River in Northern Minnesota that I visited last summer. 

This was specifically an Upper World journey. We had done a Lower World journey the previous week, which was easy enough, simply diving into the water below the falls and following a blue iridescent tunnel before surfacing in a pool, that was just in front of the cave from which I used to emerge when descending through my aforementioned tree friend. But how, I queried, was I going to ascend to the Upper World from a water fall? My answer was quick in coming as Salomon, my salmon guide, appeared swimming up the falls. I jumped on his back and he carried me to the top where a rainbow arced into the sky. With out missing a beat, Sal continued swimming up the rainbow.  

I don't exactly remember the transition from my piscine friend's scaly back, but suddenly I was standing in the living room of my Upper World spirit teacher, Fred. I received a warm welcome and a hug, as usual, then Fred, with his ever present smile, asked how he could help me today. 

Our intention for this journey was to ask our spirit teacher to show us a wound that needed healing that we were unconscious of. Relating this to Fred, he reached over, without a word, and opened a drawer in the cabinet beneath his fish tank. His hand disappeared into the drawer and withdrew holding what appeared to be a strip of leather. "Here's your throat back after it was ripped out." 

I think I gasped, this being totally unexpected yet making tons of sense. He applied the leather strip to my throat as if it were an adhesive bandaid. He stepped back to take a look at his handiwork, and as I looked down, I noticed there was more than just the leather on my neck. The knobbed end of a torc rested on the right-hand edge of the leather bandaid, and from that point encircled the back of my neck to where the other knobbed end rested on the opposite end of the leather.

"And with your voice returns your authority!" Fred said with an extra twinkle to his smile. "Perfect," I thought as tears welled in my eyes. 

Recognizing my own authority has been a regular theme of late, and after being raised in an environment where it was not safe to speak one's truth, this was no small feat. So to be given this gift and recognition by Spirit was huge for me. And to receive it in the form sacred to my ancestors was simply sublime. 

In case my prior description was not descriptive enough, a torc is a band of metal, usually with a decorative twist, that is worn around the back of the neck, open at the collar with each end terminating in a metallic ball, sometimes in the shape of a totem animal. This was a Celtic sign of authority, royalty, and chieftainship. 

To honor this spontaneous healing I began immediately shopping around for a torc, excited at the prospect of having a physical component to what I received in spirit. I would have to be patient, though, as it would require some time to save money for such a hand-crafted item. 

In the mean time, as I walked past my altar one day, I looked down and was struck by what I saw.

Stretched across the front of my altar was the choker I'd gotten at Faerieworlds this past year. I had previously been hesitant to buy anything similar, not having Native American heritage, but this particular one spoke to me. Plus, I'd met and given a Medicine Card reading to the man who had made them, who happened to be the base player for a friend who performs at Faerieworlds every year. That seemed to make it okay. 

So I wore it proudly at Faerieworlds, but once I  returned to the mundane world, had trouble finding occasions to wear it, and thus placed it on my altar until the time seemed appropriate. Now I was looking at it in a new light -- This strip of leather that covers my throat.  My throat, the expression of my authority, was already sitting on my altar just waiting to be recognized and claimed. 

I still plan on purchasing a torc to honor my journey, but for now I have my choker to wear when leading ceremonies or classes. And it is amazing, and strikes me as strange sometimes, the element of authority that has somehow, unbidden, slipped into my voice when I speak now, especially things that afterward cause me to say to myself, "Where did that come from? I didn't know I knew that!"