Compass & Quill

So I just finished the first class, which was an introduction to shamanic journeying. For most of the class we just discussed what journeying is for and what it can look like, with students and teachers discussing their own experiences either in purposefully journeying or just slipping into the spirit realm via dreams, meditation, etc. Toward the end of the class, we had the opportunity to “go in” or journey.

The teacher facilitated the experience, which basically felt like guided meditation with a drum. I didn’t know what to expect, exactly, but the thing that I experienced was strangely specific. First off, I typically have no internal monologue and no visual memory. I think this is one of the reasons that my dreams stand out to me so vividly; it’s the only time that I get to see things in my imagination. These setbacks make guided meditations where you’re supposed to picture something or talk with someone really, really difficult, but not impossible. My scent and touch memory are really strong, so I can often work with textures or smells to build a space in my mind. I also have a good sense of negative space, so even if I can’t remember what something looks like, I can remember the feel of how much space was between me and the thing (guessing that’s a little like echolocution). I don’t “hear” talking, but I “feel” it kind of like a gut feeling. Who knows, maybe my gut microbiome is helping me tune in where my brain can’t?

Anyway, the teacher asked us to go to a safe place somewhere on earth. And never in a million years would I have expected this, but I immeditately landed in my Nana and Granddaddy’s front yard, where I could feel the grass under my feet and smell the roses and mint. I could feel the rubbery flowers of that sweet shrub thing that grew behind the mailbox, and smell that heavenly scent. I felt how loved it made me feel to be seen by my Granddaddy, how it felt to play frisbee and to catch lightening bugs. I felt perfectly safe there. Nothing could touch me, and I knew it, because I was so deeply loved. Until this morning, I had never ruminated on that feeling or that place very deeply. It was shocking how deep it cut to my heart in that moment.

So I saw my Granddaddy almost immediately. He was watering the rosebushes but he gave me a feeling that it wasn’t really the time for us to interact. He was there, but my purpose in this yard was to remember how it felt to be there. Back IRL, the facilitator told us to find a nearby body of water and use the water to cleanse our energy bodies. I took a dip in the shallow ditch between my grandparents’ yard and Latham Street. The facilitator told us that we should put on a ritual piece of clothing that we’d keep there to help us signal to ourselves and the spirit world that we were present. Kind of like a work uniform, I guess. My brain gave me a kimono, since it has a very specific weight and feel to it. However, as soon as I put it on, the pattern and colors changed (and as I’ve mentioned, this kind of detail is not that typical for me to “see” in a waking situation). It was still a heavy silk robe, but now it was covered in a technicolor tropical pattern.

Here, I have to stop and tell you two stories:

Story #1: In January, I had a vision that the sky opened up like a giant sardine can, and beyond the lid was nothing – just endless, eternal blackness. At the same time, the Universe told me to lighten up and stop being so serious. The message was to dig in, be present, and LIVE joyously, because this is IT. This is the thing we’re here to experience in its beautiful fullness.

Story #2: When I was maybe three or four years old, my Granddaddy took a photo of me. That wasn’t anything new; he took tons of photos of me. He was an avid photographer, he was enamored with his first grandchild, and he carried that camera with him whenever we were hanging out so he could catch me in action doing cute kid stuff. One afternoon, I was at the family upholstery shop. Granddaddy was locking up for the evening, and then I was going to get in his truck with him and ride to see my Nana. I was standing on the sidewalk, trying to wait patiently, but still as stoked as a little kid that was about to get unlimited playtime, strawberry ice cream, and M&Ms could be. I was also wearing a cute new matching shorts and tank top set in a technicolor tropical pattern. Granddaddy finished locking the door, then had me walk over toward the truck and turn around to give him a smile. Being a good little model, I propped both chubby fists under my chin and gave him a big, happy grin. I don’t remember the ensuing ice cream, but that photo ended up getting framed and sitting pride of place on my Nana’s etagere in the den until she passed away last year. There are hundreds of photos of me out there, but that one represents the end of an era. I started getting bullied pretty much as soon as I got to school, and life just continued to get darker for a long time. That photo captured the last of my true, unbridled joy and innocence, a time when I could just be myself and know to my core that I was adored. My Granddaddy got great photos out of me because it was so easy for me to shine love back at him.

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So, back to the shamanic journey. I was standing in my grandparents’ front yard. I’d just taken a little bath in the ditch, and I put on the kimono. The pattern of the kimono fabric changed to the pattern of the shirt I was wearing in that long-ago photo. As soon as that happened, my vision from January popped back into my head – whoosh! It was instantly clear that Granddaddy was working with the Universe to remind me to let things go. Stop taking things so seriously. Find a way to be joyful again, to just LIVE, and be loved, and have some fun.