Not my thing

I was never a fan of Halloween. Even as a child I dreaded the costumes, going door to door, too, as I am and have always been extremely introverted. Walking up to a stranger's house to ask for hand outs? Never my thing. Also, I have always been confused by those who enjoy being scared. I do not.

When I worked in restaurants, my distaste for the day increased. St. Patrick's Day, New Year's Eve, and Halloween are by far the worst days of the year to work in restaurants that serve liquor. Early on in the evening people have fun - I guess - but once they start really getting drunk, in general people become very mean, especially so on Halloween.

Here on East Capitol Street, Halloween is over the top. We get hundreds (literally) of trick or treaters, including busloads of kids coming in from the suburbs. It is mayhem on this street, something that the petty criminals of the spirit world really love. I will not appease them! No way.

During my years with Reclaiming, I learned how to honor the ancestors at this time of year by building altars, by remembering my beloved dead. I loved the Spiral Dance ritual during which we listened to the advice of sage ancestors, danced the spiral together in order to become more empowered to do good in the world. I loved Samhain in my community. It was wonderful!

But Halloween? Nope. Encourage the kids to be greedy by gathering as much candy as possible, then have to deal with the blood sugar levels rising then crashing? Dress them in ugly costumes most likely made in China? Approach houses where the people greeting the kids purposely try to be frightening? I do not understand the point of it. People say it's fun. Is it? It's likely I will never understand.

But then, I'm not fun. I'm not playful. I am a very serious person. I honor my ancestors throughout the year, especially as the days grow shorter. But Halloween? Yuck! That is all.

After Sandy

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.

Slow Sandy

Both pics were taken last week, outside the Willard Hotel.

Shalom from rainy Washington DC. The epic winds that are supposed to be part of this storm have not yet arrived in DC. I'm still in my before-the-drug-kicks-in state of mind, thinking maybe it will turn out to sea, maybe it won't be that bad, maybe the weather people and satellite pictures and hurricane hunters are all wrong. 

Maybe.

I love having lots of time to think about things, being (as I am) a very slow processor of the vast amount of incoming sensory information that life is a body is about, though may I say here and now that too much time to think isn't that great either. My mind can get itself into a twist, spiraling inwards, creating bizarre stories, perhaps simply to amuse itself. My mind! What a character. Hence I will make my way to the Capitol Hill house of dear friends today, to hang out, watch a movie, feast and of course drink bourbon.

Before I head out, though, I'm feeling the need for a lot of coffee, which will likely propel me into a cleaning frenzy. Since I keep my house pretty clean anyway, I'm considering emptying the bathroom closet, cleaning the shelves and replacing everything in a neat and orderly fashion.

I could sit around and watch movies all morning, but this storm does not radiate not a sit-around energy. At least, not yet. But the day is young and according to the weather people, we've got at least two more days of it. 

Those of you not in northeast America, wish us well? We are not great at twiddling our thumbs. Thanks.

Are you experienced?

I woke this morning thinking about LSD. Yeah, weird. My first thoughts revolved around memories of the ways the hallucinogen of hallucinogens was packaged. There were small, tube shaped pills of many colors called "barrels." Purple barrel, orange barrel, etc. I also remember blotter acid, a drop of the chemical on a tiny piece of paper. Many forms of blotter had graphics on the paper, such as the pyramid with the eyeball in it that appears on the back of U.S. $1 bills. Microdot was another form that came in different colors, as did windowpane acid which looked like tiny, square shaped hard candies.

The classic form was LSD dropped into a cube of sugar. I never did that kind, but I tried all of the above, back in the day. When hallucinogens came into popular culture, their effect was powerful, even for the people who did not get high. It was part of awakening from the post WWII state of shock. Our society needed a big ole slap across the face. The drugs, the music, the social movements, were all part of the awakening.

There's no way I would ever say that an acid trip was fun. It was inevitably harrowing every time. Enlightening, yet challenging on so many levels. The world of concrete reality came apart while tripping. It is a very powerful shamanic drug. Every trip can be a shamanic initiation, at least it was for me, every time.

People ask how it is I see the reflected world that I often photograph, or why I take time to gaze at the sky (or - kiss the sky, as Jimi said). People talk about my "great eye." Well. I didn't learn how to see that way from any of my shamanic teachers, nor is it something I've always done. I learned to see in this way while tripping. My training in the shamanic and wiccan arts helped me refine that vision, helped me learn how to integrate what I had learned from tripping, but it was the drug that opened my perception.

By the way, I'm not the first shaman to be shaken out of my certainties via a hallucinogenic drug.



I was thinking about LSD today because there was always a point, after swallowing the windowpane, microdot, blotter or barrel, while waiting for the drug to take affect, that I would become briefly anxious. An acid trip is a ten hour commitment to being absolutely stripped of all assumptions, of everything one "knows" for sure. It is a very vulnerable state which is why the people who brought LSD into my culture, the researchers I mean, watched their subjects very carefully throughout the experience. Here's a link to a history of LSD, from wikipedia.

It took awhile, after swallowing the drug, for it to take effect. Sometimes, during the brief period of anxiety about what I had committed to doing, I wondered if maybe it wasn't going to happen, if what I had swallowed was just a tiny piece of paper with nothing in it. Sometimes I hoped it wouldn't work. Being sure of things, having the grid of assumptions underlying everything, feels safe, comfortable.

Once into the trip, though, I personally never had a bad experience. I learned a lot during those trips but, would I ever take it again? Nope. There is no need. I was fully psychedelicized by age 23. After that time, I never took it again.

Why am I thinking about it this morning? It's because Sandy, the Frankenstorm, is moving so very slowly. It's overcast this morning, with a bare hint of a breeze. It doesn't feel like anything is going to happen, it's like that waiting period for the drug to kick in. Maybe it won't happen. Maybe the storm is going to dissipate, turn out to sea, maybe somebody at the weather channel dropped some acid and made the whole thing up.

Probably not, hey?

Talk about quirky!

Baltimore's Washington Monument

I spent yesterday in Baltimore at the Miracle Wellness Center across the street from Johns Hopkins University, in a meditation class.

I hardly ever get to Baltimore, but when I do I'm struck by how different it is from Washington. Gritty, odd, artsy and - to me - intimidating, the city soul of Baltimore is like the crazy uncle who lives in the attic. It's fun to pop in. More fun, though to come back to DC, back to Capitol Hill, my beautiful village.

Today in DC and Baltimore, people will be getting ready for Sandy, the huge superstorm headed our way. From tomorrow afternoon through mid-day Tuesday we will be dealing with the unbelievable power of nature in the form of high winds and lots of rain. The weather people are beside themselves; they've never seen anything like it: a combination of a tropical hurricane and a severe Nor'easter.

I grew up in the midwest, in tornado alley. Tornadoes come up quickly. About all one has time to do is run for the basement. They pass quickly, too. Tornadoes are fast. Hurricanes are slow.

It's surreal, looking out the window here at the chateau at the perfectly blue sky. The windows are open and I'm sipping the sweet autumnal air. It's hard to believe the storm is coming, but it is, it definitely is!

After clients this morning I'll get out to gather supplies. My plans include a big pot of vegetable chili. I also bought a hurricane size bottle of Maker's Mark yesterday, just in case. I'm not too worried about the chateau as there are no large trees in the yard and this house has stood firm since the 1880s. I'll put the trash and recycle cans in the grotto, clear the few leaves scattered in front of the house, hunker down and hope for the best.

Sandy is another completely bizarre event in DC. Our baseball team, which in the past sucked, was great this year, almost winning the pennant. And now this - a hurricane roaring through the midatlantic, the week before the election.

Good lord, what next?

Captcha

I am reading many blogs these days but not commenting on the ones that have the captcha "please prove you aren't a robot" filter. I can't read the letters or numbers, and when I try listening - I just get creeped out. Can't understand what the hell they're saying. But I'm stopping by, even though I can't comment.

Wondering

What is it I always say? Oh yeah - that everyone is a shaman. When I make the argument for this belief of mine, I always use silly examples of the way in which people sense energy then dance in alignment with it, for instance at the supermarket when everyone rushes to queue up at the cash registers at the same moment.

I love watching birds follow currents of energy, such as when they suddenly take flight from a tree, fly in a big circle, then come back to the same tree, perhaps even landing on the same branch (I don't know that's true - I always wonder).

I guess birds are shamans, too.



But back to the humans - here's what I'm wondering about. I'm curious about whether wars are like storms that pass through our hearts and psyches en masse. We feel threatened, or we feel we must prevail no matter what. Even we pacifists feel the energy of war. It's our singular reaction to hope and pray that the peace will be kept, while others take up arms and walk willingly into the battlefields. Everybody feels it, though. At least, everyone felt WWII.

I wonder if there's any way to let the storm pass without acting out the energy. I wonder if any culture has ever tried to do so.

The thing is, we have always waged war. We are a warring, violent, aggressive species. Back in the days before guns, we did a lot of damage, but nothing like the kind of carnage we've been able to manage since the invention of guns. Guns, bombs, drones - they are like crack cocaine for the violent streak in our nature. We always make up a good story about why we have to wage war.

I'm not suggesting peace at any cost. In WWII for instance, I am very happy that Hitler was defeated. Good lord. I'm not that much of a pacifist! As a shaman, though, I'm curious about the energy of that war, the dark, world-wide storm. Was it backwash from WWI? I need to think about it some more.

Where is a time machine when you need it?

Happy Wednesday. Shalom.


Martin Luther King, one of my big heroes. Wow.