These pics are from a couple of weeks ago. I'll get out between clients today to survey the scene on Capitol Hill. There will be pictures.
I am a shaman. It is not a glamorous calling. It's interesting but I would not exactly call it fun. For instance yesterday when I could have been getting drunk and playing cards with the neighbors as we sat out the hurricane/nor-easter, I was here at the chateau, reaching out, trying to sense the soul of the storm, to understand, and to anchor in some way at least a tiny bit of the energy for the benefit of the living beings in its path.
Does that sound crazy? Well, it very well may be, but this is what shamans have always done, this is how we behave in the midst of huge storms. We've been doing this work for 100,000 years at least, probably longer. There is precedent for the madness.
I was in touch all day with shamanic colleagues from all over the world. We gathered in groups on Facebook - one group consisted of old cronies from my witch camp years, people who live in British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest. Another group was centered on this coast, consisting of people with whom I've worked on the Civil War battlefields and at locations in the District. I talked to people on the continent of Africa, in Australia and Europe as well. The only people who did not respond to my requests for contact were my old cronies in San Francisco. They were celebrating the World Series there which is their right - I guess. San Francisco might as well be another planet sometimes. Good lord.
Would it be interesting to hear what we sensed? Our impressions are poetic, much like what you hear from culinary aficionados when they describe wine - you know, they talk about earthy flavors, tannins, a long finish, etc. If you are interested, I will describe what we felt. But it might only be interesting to we shamans.
One important thing I learned from one of my cohorts (the powerful priestess who brought me "into the blood" of Mongolian shamanism), is that trying to perceive the entire storm was ridiculous. No wonder I had a headache. She said she found a current embedded in the storm, one that she needed, and rode it "for awhile." I was trying to see the whole thing all at once. I am so ambitious! No wonder I was thinking about LSD.
A spirit guide showed me how to locate the "Pole Star" in the vast galaxy of wind and rain, a relatively fixed central place in the storm (not the center, by the way) from where I could check out the interactions within the storm, the relationships among the different energies, but without getting dizzy.
Of course it was still overwhelming. I'll be thinking about it for a long time.
It occurred to me last night that I've been trying to do the same thing with WWII; perceive the whole entity of that war, which is absolutely impossible. I must find something particular to study. What I choose will become the Pole Star of that terrible war, a place to anchor, from where I can learn more about what that dark storm was about.
Not today, though. Today I'll be sending a steady stream of Reiki up the coast to New Jersey and especially New York City. The devastation is horrible, truly horrible. New Yorkers are tough but they will need all available healing energy, money and help to get through this.
Also, I'll be working today. The city is closed down, including public transportation, but my clients today live in the village and can walk over for their massages. It will be good to put my hands on living beings.
I am grateful for my calling as healer and shaman, even though it is so weird. I feel lucky to have figured out a way to be myself. I am a shaman.
Shalom.
7 comments:
I, for one, am interested in your impressions. . .
Meri - I'll email you.
Here's what I just sent to Meri:
Here's a quick summary of all our impressions, jumbled together. I might not remember everything.
I used the phrase "galaxy of wind and rain." Seemed to have many different personalities, like old sisters who haven't seen each other in awhile, unexpectedly colliding and having it out once and for all. One of my colleagues kept saying "we" when she described the storm, not "it" or "she." We all agreed Sandy is so wrong as its name, (whereas Irene was a perfect name for that storm.)
Instead of having a focused center and edges that are hugged inwards like normal hurricanes (normal hurricanes?) this storm had an outwards stretching feeling, or a sense of unwinding. During my Reclaiming days we used to do a wheel dance in ritual sometimes. Lines of people would hold hands and make a circle of spokes. The people at the center held on to each other as well as the first person down the line of each spoke. Everyone faced the same direction and walked. This turned the wheel. Every now and then the people at the end of each spoke would peel off, move to the center of the wheel, and become the center, so the energy of the dance not only turned, but radiated outwards. We felt that in the storm.
We also felt an elephant-like energy about the storm, like a herd of elephants slowly doing the wheel dance or some other huge working. Check out some of the satellite pics - the elephant trunk shape is pretty amazing.
Some of us sensed grief in the unwinding, others used the word rage, or pent up anger. It felt to all of us as if something that had been repressed was unwinding and being released. What was repressed was not happiness, we all agreed on that.
When the storm came onshore, it changed completely. All the disparate personalities seemed to join forces at which point it felt more like a single minded monster winter storm. It felt like there should be blizzards, which I guess there were in W. Virginia.
People were either really lucky or really unlucky. I think it should be called Super Storm Roulette, said with a French accent if possible.
I anchor into storms, it's a big part of my work (weather shamanism). I have never felt anything even remotely like this. I'll be thinking about it for a long time.
Roulette should be pronounced with a French accent and French attitude.
Thank you for posting the follow up. It seems almost apropos to have such a conflicted storm right here, right now. It's like an echo of the political occurrences and the spiritual happenings. Perhaps a creation of our own conflicted emotions?
I am fortunate because we were missed by the storm, in contrast to what was forecast. I know that there is devastation everywhere and have been praying and sending what positive energy I can to those who need it most. That was the first thing the kids and I did this morning: give gratitude and ask for more help for those in need.
Thank you for sharing this.
I watched the constantly updated reports yesterday from this side of the world and thought of you and how you would pick up and perceive the energies involved, at the same time hoping the physicality and dangers involved where not too overwhelmening for a bunkered down population.
I admire how people cope and ride out these situations. The resilience and courage of New Yorkers after the Twin Towers collapse still amazes me and garners huge respect.
Having just woken up this morning, you were my first concern, and now I'll go and look at the latest t.v. footage and reports - glad you are O.K. and up for business as usual.
The summaries were fascinating.
Whitney! I know your prayers are helping.
Pam yes, hardship brings out the best and worst in our species. It seems so unfair, but it does!
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