My Pocket Shaman and Me — A Tale of What-the-fuckery

“Can you just stop with the damn smoke blowing thing?”
Me ~ to my Shaman.

I had a shaman once. I highly recommend it. 

Mine appeared out of nowhere, like a questionable smell, and actually moved in with me back in the winter of 1993.
With his bald head, Australian accent, and wild, Rasputian eyes, I called him my “pocket shaman” since he was barely shoulder height — and for about seven months he literally went everywhere with me. 

I never think about that time of my life anymore…unless I do. It is dark, and murky, and mysterious. Definitely NOT a place that’s safe to go without a bodyguard…or a guide…or a shaman. 

My friend Mel posted this “Promise of a Shaman” on her Facebook page the other day. I wish I knew who wrote it because I can tell they’ve lived it. Their words bringing every detail of our little dance alllll back to me…

The rituals. 
My fear.
His refusal to meet me in my fear.
My rage at that.
His indifference to my rage.
The energy work that I initially scoffed at, and later counted on to save me.

I’m not being hyperbolic when I say he saved me, my pocket shaman. He saved my sanity—and in turn he saved my life.

“Be careful what you wish for,” they say. Up until that point I’d never listened to “them” anyway—and I wasn’t about to start.
I was a thirty-fucking-five-year-old seeker and I wished for enlightenment already! 
I had wished to know all the secrets of the universe. To have them revealed to me so that I alone could understand them.

“Be careful what you wish for,” my pocket shaman admonished. He questioned the direct, solo route I’d chosen to take. He was in favor of a more circuitous path; one that came with a lot of help along the way.

“Fuck that shit!” I want fast! I’m in a hurry! I argued.

Then I lost my mind.

Sacred texts suggest that when undertaking the path to enlightenment, it would be wise to follow the advice of a guide.  They say that for a reason. Because the edges of the path are littered with the bones of those who’ve tried to “go it alone”.  And if you don’t die, you are doomed to wander the streets of LA or some other place you no longer recognize, barefoot and afraid, mumbling incoherently about going fast, going solo. 

Trust me. I was almost there. Luckily for me, a shaman showed up. 

I say thank you to whomever sent him to me. He was exactly what I never knew I needed. 

I say thank you to the experience we went through together. It was most definitely a battle, and he will forever be my foxhole buddy.

And I say thank you to the universe for scaring the living daylights out of me, beating me up every which way imaginable—and some you cannot; for scrambling my brain, rewiring my nervous system, and then spitting me out on the other side with “lovely parting gifts”—that took me two decades to discover. 

And I say thank you to myself, for being brave enough back then to even make the wish. 

So, what is the moral of this story you ask? That in some instances, good things come in small packages and everybody loves a shaman? That, in the case of chasing spiritual enlightenment, you’d better put a team together because you are LITERALLY playing with fire? That “they” are right when they say, “be careful what you wish for because you just may get it”—and then not know what the hell to do with “it”? OR, that we don’t say “thank you” nearly enough to that part of ourselves that offers acts of audacious self-care, like conjuring shamans out of thin air at times when we barely have the wherewithal to say our own name—and that it should be required by law?

Hmmmmmm….That’s a hard one. I’ll let you guys decide.

Carry on,
xox

The promise of a shaman

If you come to me as a victim I will not support you.

But I will have the courage to walk with you through the pain that you are suffering.

I will put you in the fire, I will undress you, and I will sit you on the earth.
I will bathe you with herbs, I will purge you, and you will vomit the rage and the darkness inside you.
I’ll bang your body with good herbs, and I’ll put you to lay in the grass, face up to the sky.
Then I will blow your crown to clean the old memories that make you repeat the same behavior.

I will blow your forehead to scare away the thoughts that cloud your vision.
I will blow your throat to release the knot that won’t let you talk.
I will blow your heart to scare fear, so that it goes far away where it cannot find you.
I will blow your solar plexus to extinguish the fire of the hell you carry inside, and you will know peace.
I will blow with fire your belly to burn the attachments, and the love that was not.
I will blow away the lovers that left you, the children that never came.
I will blow your heart to make you warm, to rekindle your desire to feel, create and start again.
I will blow with force your vagina or your penis, to clean the sexual door to your soul.
I will blow away the garbage that you collected trying to love what did not want to be loved.
I will use the broom, and the sponge, and the rag, and safely clean all the bitterness inside you.
I will blow your hands to destroy the ties that prevent you from creating.
I will blow your feet to dust and erase the footprints memories, so you can never return to that bad place.
I will turn your body, so your face will kiss the earth.
I’ll blow your spine from the root to the neck to increase your strength and help you walk upright.

And I will let you rest.

After this you will cry, and after crying you will sleep, 

And you will dream beautiful and meaningful dreams, 

and when you wake up I’ll be waiting for you.

I will smile at you, and you will smile back

I will offer you food that you will eat with pleasure, tasting life, and I will thank you.

Because what I’m offering today, was offered to me before when darkness lived within me.

And after I was healed, I felt the darkness leaving, and I cried.

Then we will walk together, and I will show you my garden, and my plants, and I will take you to the fire again.

And will talk together in a single voice with the blessing of the earth.

And we will shout to the forest the desires of your heart.

And the fire will listen and whisper the echo, and we will create hope together.

And the mountains will listen and whisper the echo, and we will create hope together.

And the rivers will listen and whisper the echo, and we will create hope together.

And the wind will listen and whisper the echo, and we will create hope together.

And then we will bow before the fire, and we will call upon all the visible and invisible guardians.

And you will say thank you to all of them.

And you will say thank you to yourself.

And you will say thank you to yourself. 

And you will say thank you to yourself.

~Author unknown