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Shamans Cave Blog

Welcome to the Shamans Cave blogs by faculty members and invited guests. All the blog articles reference topics in shamanism and the maker tradition in particular. You must be a registered user to comment on any of the blog articles.

Coming out of Hiding

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The predicament is, I really don't want to come out of hiding. Never have, if we're being honest. Even when I was "public" I'd rather not have been.

Extrovert extraordinaire in the world. Joyful, crazy silly, to some annoying and obnoxious. People commented on the easy rapport I had with others. Oh yes, and if you were close enough, there was the "Jean Experience".

The recap devastated so many illusions. Like when I discovered I wasn't an extrovert or that my core emotion wasn't joy. There's something to wake you up. One evening, I went to bed after a rather short recap session that, to my mind, didn't bring up much to work on, and by midafternoon the next day I was in a fetal position crying uncontrollably.

Grief. There was the core emotion. It was crippling. As if Joy would never be in my life again.

Once the grief was exposed and released from its confined positions, my energy took me on a journey of grief throughout the world's history.

Grief from illness, death, starvation, isolation, hopelessness, defeat. From the smallest act of unintentional harm to the most elaborate intention of cruelty. The grief of millions. Abused, abandoned, lonely people crying in the night.  

And the most damaging to humans, the denied grief carried every day, hidden and never spoken of, for to utter it aloud would be their unraveling.  Burying it, believing "time" heals all.

Functioning was at a basic level. Then one evening, after a rare decent day, like a slap in the face my energy decided it wasn't done. These journeys were to include those imposing harm - connected to those who had injured them. The vicious cycles. The details, faces, the circumstances and centuries. Further and further, agony upon agony until ...

Stillness

Darkness

Floating in a sea of grief. 

Sensing I am not alone, a dot of light appears and unable to move away, slowly approach. 

Her younger self is looking down into a pool of water, falling into the pain filled eyes being reflected. Innocence had been ripped from her soul. 

"You are born alone. You will die alone. Make peace."

An agreement was made.

I made peace….  eventually rewarded with equal movements into the heart of joy and more.

Alone a cardinal's song carries me to every ear, human, animal, and insect. Carries me to every leaf stirred by its vibration softly nudging another leaf and another. Follow all the reverberations of that single cardinal's song rippling into infinity.

Alone tiny butterflies fill my hair, flittering away in a mass of white when I finally come back.

When detachment fails, pain from constant bombardment is alleviated by nature and the unknown.

I spent hours, roaming enthralling places words fail at description, sometimes doing "nothing" but inhaling. I would have let go completely had someone not intervened. Anchors here required. Ok fine, if I must.

Creation began, a lifestyle and landscape to play in that engulfed me like a down comforter. My refuge. My property.  

2022 I realized I had embarked on projects not consciously intended, working on instinct, not questioning. They perilously had the stamp of "public" on them which yes, I did ponder before promptly dismissing and carrying on.

Then the animals started dying, creatures I'd intentionally created habitats for. Followed within days by the discovery of more death at cardinal and property points, all points intent-related to invisibility and protection. After processing the grief of each discovery, I was shown a larger, more effective way to move energy.  Even then I slapped hands over my ears at any "public blah blah blahing".

April tornado's first touchdown less than a mile away. Inspection of property shows it to be the only one in area damage free, not even a fallen limb. Then I spy it, the heart shaped rock previously attached to the CedarBrook Cottage property sign.

Laying there. 

Broken to bits. 

Worse, the easement between homes and along the road was a wreck of fallen cedar trees and brush. Electrical, phone and tree crews with heavy equipment had a heyday leaving a swath of destruction as bad as the storm. 

What unhinged me was the exposure. 

I couldn't see through my tears.

Can you understand I wasn't thrilled with the "message" apparently being sent? Oh, there was more, believe me. 

In retrospect I wonder, would any of it have been necessary if this heart wasn't so stubborn? Coming out of hiding into a grief engulfed world, anger raging in the streets. Haven't I done enough, the teaching, healing, traveling? Aren't I doing enough with my private work, must I go "public" again? The agreement is brought to my attention. The details. 

The old ones have emphatically said, "no". 

So, here I am. 


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Thursday, 01 December 2022

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