Saturday, October 19, 2019

magic

This Halloween, Don’t Feed Your Ghosts

Since we moved to the new house I’ve been going on “Morning Constitutionals” a few times a week. Sometimes it’s a walk around the neighborhood, getting to know the street names and exploring the energies, and sometimes it's a quick jog to the park and back.  Some houses I pass stand out because of a well kept yard or a bit of interesting architecture, but most just fade into the background. There’s a house I often pass on my way back from the park that really stands out because there’s usually something dead on the street in front.Haunted White House

I barely noticed it at first, it’s not unusual to see a dead bird or hard to identify critter on the side streets.  It’s usually cleaned up quickly but things stayed on this block and it rarely stayed clean for more than a day or two.  It never looked like a fresh kill, it always looked old. 

There was no real sense of malevolence coming from the house, every house on the block is empty and some of them feel quite creepy, but the white house, the house with death in front, simply had a quite presence.  It was like looking at a predator’s den. I wasn’t scared, but I was watchful and always spent a few moments wondering what was inside and speculating on what sort of being was making it’s own sacrifices on this lonely road.

A few weeks ago the street and sidewalk were clean, so I figured I’d see something in a few days. For a week the street stayed clean and I wondered aloud, “What could be better than an animal?”  Very clearly I heard the words, “You are.”

My mental shields slammed in place with a nearly audible clang and I sped up just a tad (never show fear).  It was over a week before I passed the white house again and still nothing outside, but now there is a feeling of attention coming from the gaping windows and crooked door, a gentle malevolence – not looking to kill, but to keep.

Don't feed the ghosts. Our attention, our energy and presence can feed and sustain the non-physical beings around us.  When we talk to spirits, make up stories about them, give them names or treat them like parts of the family we can strengthen them and give them a way into our world.

Casper EatingI rarely see the spirits of people who have died, I may feel their presence during a reading, or see a glimpse of a loved one, but my talents seem more attuned to the beings in this world who were never human or have been disincarnate so long they have lost their humanity.  Some are beautiful, ethereal, helpful and loving – angels, devas, and some of the fey. Others are as neutral and natural as the wind – elementals, sprites, and nature spirits.  Then there are the ones who range from scary to downright terrifying – bogarts, tricksters, shapeshifters, dark fey, creepy-crawlies and things that go bump in the night.

These beings can also be fed by our time and attention, they can grow stronger and take advantage of our unconscious generosity by slipping into our homes wearing the mask of a friendly house ghost or a lost soul.

This past week Joe and I did a House Clearing and Blessing for a family that had just moved in and were noticing unpleasant energies and increasing poltergeist activity.  When the owner first called she told me all about the ghost, the family was sure it was the previous owner, or maybe his son who had died as a young man.  They were amateur ghost hunters and had tried to communicate with the ghost, talking to it and asking it questions. 

“I’m not sure we want to kick it out,” she said. “Give me a few more days to think about it and I’ll get back to you.”  A few days latter she called back and told me it was starting to get scary and they wanted the house cleared.  It was over a week before we could fit them into our schedule, by that time I was told lights were flickering on and off, shadows were gathering and people were getting tripped on the stairs.  Even their skeptic friends were convinced.

When we first got there, I tried to connect with the house and the land I felt only loneliness and some stagnant negativity.  There was an angry presence in the house, but I wasn’t sure it was a spirit.  When we met the family it started to come clear, there was a lot of stress and anxiety in the house and the son didn't want the spirit gone.  He liked having a pet ghost, not out of malevolence or evil, but because it was fun.  

“As the owners of this home, as the family living here, you have more control than we do,” I said. “We will clear this house, but if you invite spirits back in, they will come back.”

Burning Palo SantoWe cleared the house, filling it with as much love and light as we could channel.  They are remodeling and it will be a lovely home – one that wants to be lived in and loved.  Before we left Joe and I gave the husband and wife a pep talk on ways to bring positive energy and light into the home.  We talked about the importance of not leaving your negative energies and experiences stuck in the house.  We spoke of the importance of filling your home with love and not getting stuck in negative patterns and memories; the importance of not feeding your ghosts.

On the drive home Joe reminded me of something a say in every psychic development class I teach – we draw to ourselves the clients we need to learn from and most readings have messages for the reader as well as the client.  We have both been struggling with negativity and stress during our move and I have been falling into the terrible habit of recounting my grievances, focusing on all the things that have been upsetting me and once I start down that road I often keep going until I’m complaining about things years past – keeping the scary ghosts of my past alive.

I am always trying to do better.  No matter how much better I get at forgiveness, gratitude and mindfulness, I am trying to do better. This Halloween season I will try not to feed my ghosts.

A Shamanic Journey

I have a confession to make. As a rule, I don’t enjoy guided meditations. I usually don’t connect with the imagery and would rather just meditate on my own. However, I am always a bit envious of those people who have success with guided meditations; who see themselves in beautiful locations and who heal wounds or have cool experiences. But rules are made to be broken; even mine.

Reginia Rivers - Shaman 2016Last week I had a cool experience. Regina Rivers, of Rivers Healing Arts in Pittsburgh, came to Great Conjunction to talk about the Shamanic Three Non-Ordinary Worlds and to lead us on a journey to the Lower World. I was excited to hear Regina, she’s a wonderful speaker, but I had no expectation for the journey other than to sit in the dark with my eyes closed for a while.

Regina told us what to expect and laid out the framework of the journey – imagine yourself somewhere in nature that you are familiar with, find a hole and go down it, walk down a tunnel and come out into a sunlit field, observe and talk to anyone or anything you meet.

The Hole in the Old StoneWallI knew exactly where I would begin. Behind the house where I grew up was a small well and pond. I spent countless hours there as a kid; it was one of my favorite places. I even knew what the field in the meditation would be, a dry lakebed filled with amber grass with an old wooden dock at one end and beyond that dock was a forest. I dreamed of this land so many times when I was young, I knew it like my own back yard.

Before we started our journey, Regina told us that the journey probably wouldn’t go as we expected, but to try and allow it to unfold in its own way. I felt a moment of trepidation but brushed it aside.

FieldRegina began to drum rhythmically and I imagined myself next to the pond. It was sunset in my vision and felt a bit ominous, so I imagined it bright and sunny. I couldn’t make it stay that way and I remembered her saying, “This isn't going to go the way you expect.” I climbed through the hole in the wall, but the path was level and there was no way to go down. Very quickly I was in the field and the tunnel had disappeared. It had been years since I visited this place in my dreams. The air was clean and warm, the grass smelled fresh and alive. There were a few changes. There were hills in the distance that I didn’t remember and the grass was higher and harder to walk through, but I made my way to the dock and was joined by a cat and a dog.

I asked, “Are you my spirit guides?”Shadowed Forest Path

“No, I’m a cat,” said the cat in a tone that made it clear she thought it was a ridiculous question. “We’re your companions.” The dog laid down and the cat dove into the grass after a mouse, “I hope that mouse wasn’t my spirit animal,” I thought.

“I will be your guide,” said a tall, red haired woman. She stood at the end of the dock, near the start of a forest path. She told me her name and I asked where my usual spirit guides were, the ones I have met over and over and worked with for years. “There’re not in this land, I’m your guide here,” she said.

Honestly, she was freaking me out and I was ready to bail, but suddenly we were by a stream. I knew this place too, I had dreamt of it many times, the field was upstream and waterfalls were downstream. More than once I dreamt about nearly drowning in those rapids and waterfalls, awaking in a panic and tangled in blankets.Tranquile  Stream

This was a calm part of the river though, the surface was as smooth as a mirror and she had me look at my reflection. I saw myself busy and shifting, never still… and then she pushed my face into the water.

Sputtering she hauled me back up by the scruff of the neck and showed me my reflection again. Now it was just me gazing peacefully back.Still Water

I felt her strong hand on the back of my neck and knew I was about to go into the water again when I thought, “Ok, I’m out of here.” I was immediately back in the room, listening to the drum beating with quiet chanting in the background. For a moment though, the vision fought back and I bounced from the riverbank to the lecture room.

As I lay on my mat, quietly contemplating my visions, I listened to the sound of Regina’s steady drumbeat and the quiet background chanting and I had a strange moment of uncertainty, “When did the chanting start?” I couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was multiple voices chanting in a language I couldn’t understand. The sound was clear enough that I was almost sure it was a recording Regina had started after the journey began. It wasn’t. As the drumming ceased the chants faded away.Shaman Regina Rivers drumming

I was a little shy asking about the chanting during our discussion afterward, but I wasn’t the only one who heard it. “Sometimes the drum sings,” Regina replied.

It’s been four days and the memory is still fresh and clear. I wish I could tell you I was changed forever, but I wasn’t. My dreams have been clearer and more vivid. I feel like I have been reminded of parts of my spiritual journey I had forgotten and let fall by the wayside. I am also reminded that our spirit guides change when we need something different, even when what we need is a little scary.

More than anything I am so very grateful that I have the opportunity to experience such a wide range of spiritual teachers. It is easy to get stuck in a rut – “this is my spiritual journey, this is the way I do my work” – and forget how much more there is to experience and learn.

Understand

Magic is everywhere.

I went out dancing last night.  

I am an admitted hedge witch.  Cities leave me feeling drained (and I lived in NYC for four years), I love the life and power to be found in nature.  The feel of the grass under my feet, even when it's asleep, the dirt, stone and deeper power of the molten rock.  I love the touch of branches and leaves tangled in my hair.  That moment when you feel your consciousness spread out like a fog across the landscape and you fade into the background.

A nightclub is an entirely different form of life. The building, the lights, the music and the people become a living organism - it's pulse the downbeat, it's breath smoky and sweet, it's blood both clear and amber and it's mind alive with passion, lust and longing.  It is alive.

I walk in and my shields snap into place, smooth as stone, clear as quartz and strong as the life in my blood.  I take a deep breath, tasting the power of this place, knowing it will welcome me if I become a part of it.  I feel the edges soften and my mind expands out like the striking of a dandelion clock.  The dance floor pulls me like gravity, it is down and all I have to do is fall.

Lights.  Music. Pulse. Power to be found in every movement.  Look for the beings hiding in the shadows, enjoying the free energy.  Smile and watch them flee - this dance is mine... but the next is yours and after that we join in the raising of power in movement, and joy, and freedom, and sweat.

Dance.

Ride the wave or loose yourself in the swirling undertow.  Both are fun.  Both are power. We often

Forget.

Our modern world keeps trying to forget the power of dance.

We try to tame our music.

Dance.
it makes the crops grow.

Sing.
it brings the sun.

Sweat.
it brings the rain.

Love.
it brings life.

Understand.
it brings enlightenment.

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