The shamanic lifestyle is so interesting - to the shaman, at least. We practice hard so as to be available to insights passing by in the ocean of energy in which we live. We go on trance journeys hither and yon, we listen to the voices of the trees, sky, clouds, planets and animals because we believe that the world, and everything in it, is sentient. When we open to a wider spectrum of sensory input than is thought to be acceptable, a lot of information comes in. We can get out there. Oh we surely can. During phases when we're experiencing a flood of insight, we straddle the line between shamanism and just plain insanity. Particularly in my society, this can be challenging.
What I was taught is that mastery in the Art has to do with discernment, with being able to decide which auguries, which omens, which signs are worthy of attention. Because if we try to pay attention to everything that's meaningful, we will be overwhelmed. We will derail and be unable to function. That way lies madness. Oh yeah.
The signs are always present. As shamans we must be choosy. No matter how fascinating the insights, the truth is - we have to do the laundry, we have to pay the rent. We have relationships with embodied humans and animals we must attend to. Body trumps spirit in every situation.
Usually it isn't that hard for me, I think in part because I'm a bodyworker. There is nothing as grounding as that. But this dramatic shift in my photographic eye, which I now believe to be directly related to what I took in visually and energetically while up at the lake, has opened a new layer of perception in me. My third eye has a new lens. This is normal for shamans. Over time, with practice, new information and new techniques of practice are revealed. That's why old shamans are valued in all cultures where they're acceptable. It's a lifelong Art to learn.
I mention all this because as I focus the new lens of insight/outer sight, I'm seeing/noticing many things I was blind to before the trip to the lake. Even the things I'm used to "seeing" (in my mind's eye) are more vivid, changed somehow. My dreams are potent, helpful and very different than my usual dream patterns. I have a new animal guide, the soulful carrier pigeon who is teaching me a great many things about gentleness and also about communicating in code. So interesting! I'm seeing signs everywhere, from my breakfast bowl to the clouds in the skies to the tiny mouse I saw scamper across the sidewalk yesterday.
Artists of every kind, philosophers and other deep thinkers, and real scientists are renowned for going off the deep end on occasion. It's part of how we stretch the imagination, it's part of our creative process.
Today I've only got one client. My gadgets are working. I love my camera. The chaos of recent weeks has begun to settle down. I'm intent on a nice walk this morning during which I'm going to concentrate on being grounded and centered rather than wandering around all wide third-eyed and Oh wow as I have been since I got back from the lake.
Instead of taking it all in, as I have been, I'm commencing the process of discernment. I have a new lens. OK. I've taken it on a spin around the block as it were, and oh wow, the things I can see. But now I'm thinking, how shall I use it? For instance, I've been told that the Akashic records of all the stars in the galaxy are stored in a library in the black hole at the galactic core. The ancestral records of Brother Sun, and every other star that makes up the Milky Way, are accessible at 26 degrees of Sagittarius. OK. Cool. However ... is it necessary for my work in my brief life as a human being to know that, to work with stellar Akashic records? Maybe. But I'm setting it aside for the moment, with gratitude, should say. I'm sorting through the possibilities, organizing them. This is a sign of returning balance, a great thing.
It's another beautiful day in DC. I will walk and feel my feet on the ground. I will enjoy the secure tug of gravity that keeps me rooted to this beautiful planet. I will put a nice lens cover over my new third eye lens, give it a rest.
It's good to be back. It surely is. Shalom.