I have no business blogging right now.  I’m riding on very little sleep, working insane hours to get a product launched (ZuCamp, if you care to spy), and I have a glass of bubbly in me, so I’m saucy. Indeed.  It’s a little insane how much I’ve taking on lately – June is shaping up to be Crazy and Mad As Hell month.  That’s a grand set of circumstances to test my surrender abilities, and all this “it’s not real, remember who you are” revelations. Yummy.  BRING IT.

Next week, after another Earth Medicine Apprentice weekend, I’m headed to LA with Orion.  Our visit has many reasons, but at the heart of it all, we are going to see his brother Zen.  Zen is deeply immersed in round 3 of lymphoma.  He first contracted the disease at age 19.  He thought he beat it, but it came back a few years later, at the prime of his newfound adult freedom, and it really kicked his ass.  He subsequently developed various drug addictions, and hit that dreaded downward spiral.  Somehow he rebounded, found a fantastic wife, beat the cancer yet again, and settled in for the rest of his life.  Then a month or two back, the cancer returned – more vicious than ever.  It almost took him from us in the early onset – white blood cells tanked, body temp skyrocketed – a death recipe if ever there was one.  But Zen is a fighter, clearly, and he came through again.  Thanks in part to all the incredible healers and prayer-minded powerhouses we employed to get him through.

Zen is currently receiving chemo directly into his spine.  He’s in crazy pain, hazed by all the medication and madness, and really dying to *heal*.  He wants to live, he’s willing to look at why he manifested this illness to begin with, and as such, I have stepped in to help in any way I can as well.  I can’t tell you what this means to me.  I haven’t even met Zen yet – we’ll do the honors next week.  But I have connected with him – deeply, profoundly, infinitely.  He’s Orion’s brother, for Divinity’s sake – it doesn’t get more sacred to me.  Zen allowed me to do some shamanic journeying work for him, and it took me just a few minutes of deep meditation to find his spirit animal and his cosmic energies.  I burst into tears at the meeting actually, because I felt him so profoundly, and I just loved the being I discovered.  Zen is a Libra, to the core, and they, along with Aquarians, are my absolutely favorites.  I saw Zen at age 18, before he ever knew that cancer would be his demon.  He was so devilish and sweet, so vibrant and funny and just balls-out nutty.  And as I meditated with Wolf, his power animal, and this image of Zen, I felt those parts of him that had never changed.  The awareness that still oozed mischief and playfulness.  In those moments, I knew that he could beat this, if he wanted to.  And I promised to do everything I could to help him get there.

Up until these moments, I have been shy about any healing abilities I may or may not have.  Hell, I still am.  I lay no claims to super powers.  I only know I’m a vessel, and that I *want* to be of service in this way.  It seems that’s all it really takes – declare to the universe that you’d like to help heal, and you will find a way to make it so, if your sincerity is unbreakable.  Ever since I was a child, I wanted to help.  At first, it was to be as a psychiatrist, then a neurologist.  Eventually, I gave up to “professional” aspirations and just acknowledged that it was enough to be the friend you could call at 3 AM and spill your guts too.  Later on, as I discovered Ayahuasca, I thought she would only help me heal myself.  But Aya and San Pedro / Huachuma have shown me a different path.  This is my way to service.  Humility, although an absolutely Godly treat, need not be the only focus when one is ready to heal.  I have been hiding behind an “I’m not ready” veil.  But tell that to someone whose hourglass is dribbling down to the last grains of sand.  Zen needs help, and he doesn’t have time for my modesty.  And so I’m so honored to just step it up and say – OK, let’s do this.  Let’s heal.  I don’t do the work anyway.  I just open myself up to be the vessel.  The best healers get the hell out of the way from word one.  That’s my only job, really, and I can do this now.  For Zen, for Orion – for the Greater Good.  Nothing like jumping into the fire, eh?

When I visit Zen next week, I have in mind some radical approaches, should he be willing.  I should say, should I be willing.  I’m still a little freaked out by taking ownership of this, as the stakes. . .couldn’t be higher.  But I keep seeing visions of how I can help Zen help himself, and who am I to hide behind my fear of inadequacy, when someone just wants to live?  I will have employed all my healing partners-in-crime by then, with advice and support beyond measure.  Zen himself wrote me today and said he’s ready for a miracle, that he needs all the super powers Orion and I can muster.  It’s like Aya has been preparing me for such things since the very first sip.  Is anyone ever really ready for such do or die moments?  Likely not.  I’ll do what I have to, with tears of gratitude to boot.

In the middle of all this, I’m also moving into a new home – along with Orion and Hijo.  A marvelous home, with a lush plant-filled back yard and pool.  Orion and I are riding out yet another foreclosure home – this one belonging to my angel ex-boss – we’ll live there until the bank kicks us out.  Then there’s the chiropractor – seeing a new doc (Badger, his actual last name) several times a week to try and fix this years-long wretched pain, and really abnormal spinal curvatures.  It seems like every adjustment stirs up more emotional shit too – like there’s an ocean of things that have been laying dormant inside those disks and nerves, and every crack sends more to the surface.  The Apprenticeship will no doubt be intensely interesting, and this work launch is completely annihilating.  But it’s all so, so glorious.  I have regular moments of staggering clarity.  I’m laughing all the time about the cosmic joke of separation.  I’m feeling immense connections to those I love, those I like, those I dislike – everything everything.  These are amazing times.

I would be lying if I said I was unattached to Zen’s survival, though, and that’s something I’m looking at with a very clear mirror.  Do I want him to live because suddenly I’m involved?  Yes, I suspect that’s part of it – I want to feel like I have some purpose in these spaces, some actual abilities.  That it’s not just my head thinking she’s something something.  Ego is always there, and I see her for what she is.  But I also connected so strongly with how much life this man has left to live.  It doesn’t have to be his time – I know this unequivocally.  He can change his story, with hard work, integrity, and openness.  And what an incredible, immense, beautiful gift that I can carry – the chance to shine a little light.  He has to do the work, not me.  And yet, he is me.  I feel him and I feel our mutual essences.  Zen shows me the parts of me that are both decaying and dying, and dying to live.  These are the money shots in life.  The chances to see the real Truth of what is.  Whatever happens, I know I won’t be looking away.  It’s the kind of challenge I’ve built my life upon.  Heart – stay open, alert, alive.  In those feeling spaces.  I’ll need every tear and every truth I can find.

“Is it real this infusion
Can it heal where others before have failed?
If so then somebody
Shake shake shake me sane
’cause I am inching ever closer to the tip of this scorpion’s tail”

- Tori Amos

Sometimes, the trail I follow to find the next golden door is so wrought with coincidence (as if there is such a thing) and magic, it leaves me awed – despite my many experiences with this gorgeous unfolding.  Sandra Ingerman is one of the latest revelations.

About a month ago, I began the quest to find my next shamanic teacher.  Following a tip from guru Pranananada, I started out by contacting a new friend in Sedona, AZ.  I had met her during the shamanic weekend in Vegas, the class I took from the Foundation for Shamanic Studies.  I asked her if she had any teachers should could recommend, and she mentioned one in particular that had worked with one Sandra Ingerman – a name I had never heard before.  The very next day, an email landed from Sounds True, a publishing company out of Boulder ,CO – they wondered if perhaps I’d be willing to review a new book and CD set, rooted in shamanism, written in part by. . .wait for it. . .Sandra Ingerman.  I researched Ms. Ingerman and was absolutely delighted at what I found – she’s both a therapist and shamanic practitioner with incredible experience, compassion, and skills – a renowned healer and author of books like Shamanic Journeying, Soul Retrieval, and Medicine for the Earth. After combing through her fantastic website, I also discovered she’s done us all a gigantic service – she’s listed out all the known shamanic teachers in states across the country.  I used this as my foundation for the teacher-hunt, and within about 3 days, I found exactly who I had been looking for.  This has resulted in the Earth Medicine Apprenticeship – and I’m just spilling over with gratitude.

Shamanic Meditations is a two-CD set audio delight, filled with cosmic journeys led by Sandra.  Each journey consists of Sandra’s calm, warm, motherly voice, guiding you through a very specific, eyes-closed experience.  The shamans were some of the first meditators, but they do so with a strong purpose.  This is not zen, no-mind meditation, although you do go way beyond the mind.  Shamanic meditations (or journeys) each encompass a single purpose, set by the journeyer before the dive into the experience.  The journeyer may visit the lower world (where the spirit animals tend to reside), the middle world (the place we travel to to overcome fears), or the upper world (home to other human spirit guides and teachers).  Each is normally accompanied by a strong, consistent tribal drum beat, which allows the mind to let go into the trance of the music.  Sandra’s journeys have an incredible drumming undertone, which she herself performs.  Each of her meditations are guided by her voice, her drum, and a very clearly stated intent.  The idea is to cover your eyes (complete darkness is extremely helpful), sit close to the sounds of the CD, make sure your environment will not be disturbed for the duration (on average, about 15 minutes), and just surrender into your experience.

Sandra’s Shamanic Meditations CDs are tailor-made for beginners looking for a clear foundation for deep journeying work.  Topics include allowing yourself to look through “spirit eyes” – which equates to a mergence with a helping spirit to open your perceptions to the invisibles amongst us, as well as journeys to connect you with your personal power animals and spirit teachers.  Others take you into shamanic initiations, such as the oneness experience, which actually brings you out of your noggin and into your true nature.  Each of the journeys truly is a healing experience, there to help you integrate ancient wisdoms and knowingness deep within the soul, which is then released and allowed to permeate throughout your conscious awareness.

I’ve journeyed with Sandra now, via these CDs, many times, and the results are rather interesting.  I feel far more skilled as a shamanic meditator, and can honestly say I’ve felt a real level of direct healing and opening within.  I didn’t connect to all the journeys, but then, my set and setting weren’t always full of clarity.  While Sandra will lead you through the experience, she certainly can’t do the work for you, and make no mistake, this is work – of the most divine nature.  I recommend really setting up your environment to ensure your success – no distractions, complete and total darkness, every conceivable comfort.  Anything that will help you get out of your mind, and surrender to a different reality.  These CDs, from my perspective, will resonate most with beginners, or folks that haven’t had a lot of journeying experience to date.  There are no new revelations in this portion of Sandra’s work, but then, these practices are ancient, and proven to be effective, so there’s really no need to try and improve on the meditations themselves.  She does give her own unique flavor, and by way of her feminine spirit, that angle is a gentle power, engendering a safe, cocoon-like energetic blanket around you as you travel inward.

If you’re reading this blog, you likely have more than a passing interest in shamanism.  There are many, many facets of this gorgeous, magical world, and one of the key elements are these glorious meditations.  If you feel drawn to not just learning about journeys, but actually experiencing them, I know of no better audio path than Sandra Ingerman’s Shamanic Meditations. Gift yourself with the healing, heightened levels of awareness, and immense wisdom these discs can lead you on.  If nothing else, it’s a fun ride, and you might just unlock more of your own shamanic powers.

I’m currently reading Sandra’s book Awakening to the Spirit World, co-authored by Hank Wesselman, and will share my observations on that in a week or so.  A budding shaman can never have too many goodies in the toolbox

Ayahuasca Visions

Friday, the new shaman arrived. D1 and his beautiful partner D2 – these radiant, tiny-framed beings just bursting with love, light, and an incredibly divine power. They almost didn’t make it – stopped at the airport with the medicine by officials who didn’t know what the brew was, but didn’t want it going anywhere near the skies. They regrouped, repacked, moved the flight, and made it happen. With only minutes to spare. Ayahuasca always makes us work for it, but when so much is at stake, it’s more than worth the hoop-hopping. The pot of gold always makes her way to my outstretched hands.

I found myself mired in anxieties in the before. Worried about the comfort of all my guests, worried about the noises the neighbors might hear (purging, drums pounding, 2 AM energetic eruptions), worried about the lessons I didn’t want to learn. But that was just my ego. She knows Ayahuasca is there to move her aside, and the more awareness she has of this, the stronger she fights. I was about to learn just how strong that sense of identity can really be.

What an unspeakable gift to share this with a group of true-blue friends. 10 of us in all buckled up for the unknown cliff jump. We smoked a little sacred mapacho tobacco to get in the proper space, and grinned our naive yet knowing smiles to each other, sending love and strength and support for whatever must be. Then we headed over to my house to get the party started.

D1 gave us the rundown – he runs the show in a vastly different way than the shaman I studied with for the past 3 years. His gift of healing comes through his musical nature – he and D2 sing, play multiple instruments, and use already recorded tracks to transform the energies of the space. I so looked forward to the drumming, the harmonica, the strings and pipes and electronic melee. I knew this would be incredibly familiar and yet all kinds of new. I was shocked to hear that we would have multiple opportunities to drink as well – three in all, if we so chose. Even more chances to go deep and face the divine.

We each took our turn to drink. This Ayahuasca was just as vile as ever, but highly concentrated, and thus I had to drink far less. A huge gift, as the process of getting the liquids down is often the toughest part for me. This time, the medicine sailed into my system, and I felt electric. Alive. Protected And ready to fly.

It took about 30 minutes for me to start confronting the strength of the brew. It was as if my previous 16 ceremonies were just a build-up to what I fell into in those moments – an enormously potent, mind-shattering experience. I heard the primal buzzing kick in – the low, tribal groaning that I hear so often in this space – and felt the very energy of creation start to fill up my being. I lost myself. Completely. Time and space and identity dissolved into a nothingness – a beautiful void where I could just be, without stories or expectations. Even the chatter in my brain shut off – there was no need to describe the experience, to name it or give it any tangible description. Instead, I fell as deep as I could go. I let myself – or the image thereof – dissolve into the ethers. And in those moments, I would have been content to never, ever return.

The music kicked in shortly thereafter, and I thought I might explode from the power and awe. The drums rattled our insides, bringing up the purge for many. When the shaman started in with the drums, that’s when I once again became aware of my body. It started shaking like a full-speed locomotive – so much energy soaring through me this one little vessel just simply could not process it fast enough. I shook for hours and hours and hours. Violent shaking at times – forcing me into quiet fits of giggles, because it was so over the top and so intense and so completely unfathomable.
I didn’t now then that the shaking was a foreshadowed glimpse into my resistance. But I would know soon enough.

For much of the ceremony, I sat suffering – ice cold, and yearning for a blanket, but too spent to try and find one in the dark abyss. I also became keenly aware of my intense dehydration, but did nothing to soothe myself. There was water sitting RIGHT next to me, but I worried about disturbing my friends’ trances, and didn’t want to disrupt the space by knocking something over in my dazed-out stupor. And so I let myself suffer. Just like in the default world. More akin to take on abuse from myself, rather than inconvenience someone else.
As with all my ceremonies, this was fast becoming a microcosm for who I am in the default world. I couldn’t see it just yet, but the latest issues my soul asked to heal were surfacing at light speed.

D2 came to me then, about halfway through the ceremony, and asked if I would like more Ayahuasca. I was still so incredibly altered, but felt a very strong, compelling urge to say yes. I stood up and slowly made my way to the alter, expecting a small dosage to just keep me where I was. D1 poured a small amount, and I reached for the tiny drops. But he halted, stared directly into my energies, and grinned a radiant smile. Then he pulled back the cup and filled it to the brim. “Oh. Shit.” I thought to myself. Now I’ve really done it.

I took the full amount and staggered back to my makeshift chair. A double dose. My first. And at a time when I already felt the loss of myself, the emergence into the unknown. I had given up the illusion of control. I was going deeper than I had ever been.

To be continued. . .

Take to the Sky

It’s a topic I’ve typed out a thousand times or more – truth-talk. The definition of truth. My own personal journey with uncovering what’s Real. Even my first novel encompasses this theme, and I recognize this to be one of my biggest lessons in this embodiment. I am so hungry for the integration of self-realization, so devoted to this unraveling, that I am absolutely positive I will come to know Her. And myself.

For now, though, there are still some shadowy spaces inside the internal layers. I had a cracking open of sorts last night during a chat with Healer – a magnificent shift from head to heart-space occurred, just through his gently inquisitive nature. Sometimes all it takes is the “What are you FEELING?” nudge, and I’m suddenly aware of who I am again. I am floored by how much I resist the emotional self sometimes. Trust me, if I could think my way to enlightenment, I’d do it in an instance. I’d be there already. Yet I know that the uncharted spaces within me – essentially, the truest parts of all – lie in my emotional body, and they hold the keys to the kingdom.

I am dedicated to knowing my authentic self, and in that, I have to go deeper into the emotional process. At the same time, I refuse to dwell on any of the negatives – as Orion has said to me, haven’t we suffered enough? That’s absolutely the case. There will be no wallowing in the woe-is-me space, there will be no negative indulgences into the old victim paradigm. At the same time, sadness flows through me. Anger is often the primary emotion. And if I don’t lock and load on these waves, and release them, I won’t just halt my ascension, I’ll reverse all the beautiful healing work I’ve already taken on.

I have been reminded many times in my life how well I can process physical pain. To be perfectly honest, I can even achieve enjoyment from some forms (tattoos, for example, feel absolutely cosmic.) At the very moment a physically painful experience triggers in my sensory field, I am immediately faced with a conscious choice – how do you want to receive this? I do very well with choosing grace. Choosing bliss, instead of resistance. Falling into the pain, saying hello, and naming her Love instead. I don’t see why these same principles can’t be applied into the emotional realm. I will certainly not attempt to distort whatever emotions are uncovered, but I’m determined to become a vessel of transference. To go deep, acknowledge the fear, or the rage, and let it flow. Honor it’s presence and origin. But to do so quickly, and to flip it into a state of graceful gratitude. To smile through the tears, knowing the willingness to go there brings me closer to the sun. Closer to being a healer myself.

Ayahuasca is on the horizon – just three weeks away. She taught me this lesson years ago. I remember the third ceremony, learning about letting go of resistance. I got so good at surrendering to my divinity in those hours, the purge I was blessed to experience (which was a release of some self-loathing I had been carrying for eons) didn’t cause one muscle in my body to tense up. I succeeded in physically releasing a huge dose of negative energies without so much as an eyelash bat. It felt absolutely mind-blowingly beautiful. I realized my power in that instance – that there was no such thing as a negative emotion, if I just trusted the process and focused on love.

It feels good to remember.

From http://locksparkfarm.wordpress.com/author/wolton/

What is it about this form of surrender that sends so many of us into the dark spaces of resistance? Mine is a complex answer – and a very personal one. Somewhere, some how I taught myself that who I was down deep in my core didn’t equate to anything acceptable. I learned to be who the person across from me wanted to see (or my perception thereof), and therefore avoided vulnerability at all costs. Even to myself.

Yes, myself. Can you look in your heart and truly say you’re vulnerable and real in you conscious space too? If you can, show me the way. I mean, I’m getting there. It starts with integrity. Total admission into all you are, all you think, and most importantly, all you feel. None of that believing your own lies stuff. That feeling part is where I get tripped up. I freaking love the headspace. I love thinking about grand concepts, daydreaming, painting fantastical scenarios in my mind’s eye – all that head stuff. Feeling. . .used to not be my forte. We’re making friends, me and emotions. For awhile there, I wouldn’t acknowledge ANY of them unless I had a physical reaction of sorts. Anything that shows up on the physical has been percolating in the underbelly for eons, so that’s not exactly the kind of stupor I’m looking to exist in.

Now, I ask myself frequently (and have a few special peeps in my life that ask the same) – what are you feeling, girl? And to answer, I have to be vulnerable. I have to admit when it isn’t rainbow-colored. I don’t like being anything but joyful. Not because I’m allergic to messier emotions, but because I have an attachment (correction: my EGO has an attachment) to being that girl – the positive / happy / Susie Mary Sunshine beast.

Why?

That’s how Daddy liked it. My father used to always praise that part of me – the innocent, wide-eyed, the-world-is-a-beautiful-place little girl. He didn’t really want to be around me when I hit any other space. So that’s where, in part, I learned to put on a mask. Showing raw emotions in my household didn’t pay off. My siblings would pounce on any perceived “weakness”, and fights would ensue. Daddy would lament the loss of his “happy girl.”

I just happened to take this trait and run like mad. I suppose it’s a fierce fear of judgment and lack of acceptance that kept me from revealing anything other than my saccharine smile. Not, of course, what anyone else would think – no, it was more about what I thought. I deemed all that stuff unacceptable. Somehow, I was to be above anger and rage and jealousy and hatred and sadness and fear. And since I am not an enlightened master at the highest level, I failed.

How this has showed up in my life is really interesting. I could have won an Oscar a million times over for my various portrayals. I played lots of roles – sex kitten, fat girl, suicidal goth, corporate climber, rave queen, etc. There were many genuine elements in those personas, but through it all, I couldn’t ever call myself real. I’m not sure I can even claim as much now. But at least I’m on the right track.

I have heard from so, so many friends – Why don’t you ever call me when you’re feeling blue? I LOVE being the one my beloveds dial up when the shit hits the fan, but man did I avoid reciprocating the favor. There’s something so primal about being in breakdown before another being. Something so terrifying for me. Again, not because I feared rejection, but because I hated this part of me. Hated it.

I’m working on that ferociously these days. I am doing my best to be love, and laying a lot of stuff way, way out there without an agenda. I’m so thrilled to be uncovering the truest parts of me, and even more relieved that I LOVE them. Even the breakdowns. Even those so-called toxic parts. They rock too. I mean, why not?

The last time I had a potential for a serious downfall – last weekend, actually – I dragged myself in front of a mirror and did a deep dive into my own eyes. What I saw there looked. . .beautiful. Surrendered. Willing to look bad, to let loose, to scream or cry or pound some fists. Whatever was needed. I told her I loved her, even when she didn’t want to receive that love. Odd, I know, but it worked. I felt accepted within myself to be whomever and whatever. I couldn’t think of a single scenario that I couldn’t accept in myself.

Now, the trick is to extend that outward, without losing focus on the inner healing. I absolutely cannot wait to dance again with Ayahuasca, which is coming up in less than 2 months. She, above all else, has helped lift me into this beautiful authentic space, but I’m not naive enough to think I’m through. I’ve also been practicing this with the people in my life. With Z, BVG, various office mates, Best Friend, RyRy, Healer, Guru, Orion – the list is getting longer. I like this. I like this very much. My ego, well, she’s not all that pleased. There’s no lack of protests. Because I’m starting to realize this is going to push me into realms I can’t begin to imagine. I might have to wear a bikini at a beach someday. I might have to stand in front of a crowd and admit the demons. I might have to lose every last one of my masks. Ye God. Makes for good bloggin’ though, so what the heck.
I’ll do it.

“Put on a pair of these rosies
Raise those blinds
A happy mask was never your best disguise”
- Ms. Tori A

From www.flickr.com/photos/sherrett/2214730263/

Since the dawn of the new year, every day has felt like a vortex. Like I’m falling just a little bit deeper into the Twilight Zone. That’s how the quest to heal has appeared to me these days – my balls-out I Want To Heal At All Costs attitude has thrust me into the hot seat. I am no longer on the fringe of an ashram, I’m fully immersed inside of one. A magnificent mystery school. A place where things I could never, ever give words to happen every single day.

The latest unfolding started with a higher consciousness party (these peeps know how to have a soiree, believe that.) There’s a new pivotal someone in my sphere of influence that must be named now – he shall be dubbed Orion. He’s a consummate hunter of truth and ascension, and he’s single handedly helping to unify the metaphysical community of this scorchingly beautiful valley. In just a couple short weeks, he’s been completely embedded in my heart space, and thanks to the events he helps to organize, my life has been sourced a million times over. I’m meeting empowered, electric individuals with their fingers on various cosmic pulses, and it’s just beyond awesome. So, hat’s off to you Orion – I’m so lucky to know you.

This last Sunday, another active member of the metaphysical crew hosted an enlightenment discussion at his east-side abode. An enlightened being named Jim attended, and I gotta say, it was a trip. It’s irrelevant to relay what was actually said, as the majority of the activity happened way under the surface. Despite my ego’s belief that nothing really transpired except some circle-esque banter and unsatisfactory commentary, something was clearly triggered. The results don’t lie.

Later that evening, I had a conversation with boyfriend Z that pushed me into a seemingly small but no less noticeable emotional state. I watched a groovy DVD (Marie Antionette) and felt a mini-crash coming on. Out of instinct, and slightly against my better judgment, I sent the Guru an email highlighting a couple of things that I felt consumed by – distance from those I love. He responded later the next day, and wow was it a bullet of truth. I got refined in dramatic fashion about my victim consciousness – the most harsh download He’s ever flung my direction. I could have let my ego have her way and retreated into a turtle shell to lick my wounds, but thankfully, the somewhat brutal yet beautifully constructive email made me laugh at first, and ultimately just feel positively loved. It’s so rare to experience such truth, for the sheer benefit of growth – and that’s what Guruji gave to me. In exactly the manner that I would respond to most. Again, I’m floored by how fortunate I am.

Now, it seems I have strep throat, which I also find quite symbolic – my words have been infected, and those that I’ve held back have done the same. I’m learning so, so much about just being honest. No matter what that looks like. That I don’t have to be perfect, that I don’t always have to be on my game or look good. And that if I don’t take chances and rip off the happy dappy bullshit when it just isn’t sincere, I won’t source the kind of feedback I’ve been receiving these past few days. Sure, sometimes I feel like I’m straight out of a Tom Cruise flick – that I might not be able to handle the truth – but how else am I going to snap out of this life-long infantile programming? It is exactly how it needs to be. I’ll just keep feasting on humble pie. I mean, who doesn’t like a good pie every now and again?

From : www.itsf.org/brochure/solarsail.html

Z and many of the other ashram members had taken part in a multi-day vision quest with the Guru – and as it turns out, many magical moments unfolded. Z talked for over an hour on the phone with me, revealing these absolutely astonishing occurrences, as I raced through the airport and rode home with Mom. Normally, I delight in hearing about the divine goings-on in my second home, but something horrendous was happening to my pain body as Z spoke of the miracles. I felt fierce anger, a huge sense of betrayal – wondering why I had been on a frivolous trip to a haunted locale when I should have been sharing in these heart-openings. I was feeling shutdown, abandoned, neglected and filling up with self-hatred, while my boyfriend got closer to the source.

Maybe he would expand beyond me. I could feel that happening. I could feel that I deserved that. I was a coward, after all – someone who accepted the Guru + ashram, but didn’t actually live there. Can’t be too close to the fire. I’m still willful enough to have it my way. . .at a distance.

But in those moments, I didn’t want the goddamn distance. I wanted closeness, love, acceptance. . .all things I wasn’t feeling from my family. Save Mom, but in so many ways, she barely knows me. That’s my fault, of course, but it still stung in those moments. Enough to send me reeling down to the bottom.

I stayed there for two days, despite pep talks from loved ones. Z and the Healer especially, but I fairly much just stayed in bed with Boo and Yogi and sulked. Cried hysterically. Wondered why I hated myself so much.

I had a commitment to fulfill though – I had promised to be at the ashram for New Year’s Eve. Despite my deep depression, despite a high fever and a general feeling of throwing in the towel, I got on the plane that afternoon. Z had promised to be waiting with open arms, and the image drew me in. Getting a long hug / kiss. Seeing my soul-family. Spending time in the home of the Guru, hearing about the new year, getting sourced again. That felt. . .exactly like what I needed.

By the time the plane landed, however, I had totally hit rock bottom. The man next to me was seething with negative energy, and I let that affect me too. I let it all in. To compound it all, my attachment did not transpire – Z was late, and when he did finally arrive, he didn’t even get out of the car to greet me. Not really a bad infraction on a normal day, but it broke my heart. I needed those arms. Instead of admitting all of this, of looking into his eyes and telling him how much I hurt, and what I needed, I just decided to shut him out. Totally and completely.

The conversation did not go well, obviously. There really wasn’t much of one. Things were said that triggered my pain all the more, and I finally snapped. I told him I wanted to go back to the airport and just go home. And it was true. My flight reflex had kicked in – I had to get out of Dodge. Z, of course, wasn’t having it. I’m not sure he knew how serious I was then, but I decided to keep that secret when I realized how much he would resist.

When we went back to his place, and nothing improved. I saw Healer, and although he tried to soothe me, I wouldn’t let anything land. Not Z’s love / touch. Not the wisdom and support of my friends. I didn’t give a damn My mind had told me I was too toxic, I didn’t deserve to “be in the presence of kings”, and so I planned my escape. I called a cab, changed my flight, and ran home.

It was an effort, hell yes. Planes were delayed and overbooked. Everyone wanted to get to Vegas to celebrate the holiday. I just wanted to go home and cry.

Which I did, eventually. I knew I had left behind Z, Healer, Sage and Sis – plus all the others that would have helped me through the darkness. But I wanted to suffer alone, to wallow, to punish myself. Something I really, really hope I never do again. It represented my fear. My refusal to be vulnerable and authentic. The belief I still carry that I’m not worthy.

I was in bed when the clock struck midnight. Right where I felt I deserved to be.

Later, I found out the Guru has named our year the Year of Acceleration. How fitting, then, that I spent the beginning of mine busting through my self-loathing, purging a mountain of pain and resistance. I got through it quickly – that’s the good news. Just a few days later, I pulled myself out of the negativities, thanks to the wisdom and love of Z. And today – today I’m on top of the world. Absolutely amazing things are transpiring. More shamanic adventures are on the horizon. More beautiful people have revealed themselves to me here in Vegas. It feels like a great momentum is in the air, a great time to heal and be healed.

I’m just glad to be out of the self-imposed nightmarish funk. As Best Friend would say – breakdown, breakthrough.

“I cry out to God seeking only his decision
Gabriel stands and confirms
I’ve created my own prison”
- Creed

Healer and I enjoyed day 2 of the cosmic sessions on Sunday, welcoming several more people into the sacred space we created. The magic continued – all who passed through my doors experienced an energetic shift, and received a whole lotta positive energies. Purgings galore, emotional releases, and an overall sense of the miraculous Divine.

When the sessions ceased, Sage, Healer and myself continued the magic by engaging in a profound discussion about ego, detachment, and personal conflicts. As the night wore on, however, I felt the negativities brewing in me. I felt all kinds of pain continue to surface and swirl inside, despite all these incredible unfoldings. I knew I needed another session, and Healer felt it too. I even broke down in tears over a conflict in Sage’s life – one between him and another angel-friend I love more than words here. I finally told him how much it hurt to be in the middle, to love them both so deeply and yet have to bask in the waters of their animosity. He shifted. He heard me, and Healer. He promised to let go of the anger and reconnect. That uplifted me, and his strength ignited mine. I knew I was ready to go deep and really heal.

The session started normally – I clamored up onto the table and hunkered down for whatever would come. Healer seemed to feel it would be a gentle eve, but I expressed how cold I was, how I couldn’t stop shaking, and we felt the mood shift into a serious tone. Candles lit, lights dimmed, and he started feeling my energies. We talked a little bit about what might be up with me, what was at the heart of this unsettling. I didn’t have access to the answers. I couldn’t really tell him why I was so upset. He even told me I wasn’t making any sense, and I couldn’t argue – we just weren’t getting to the heart of the matter.

So he put his hands around my heart and started moving my body, freeing up the blockages. Emotions began to flood up. We talked about my novel – the finished one that lost it’s publishing deal because the company folded – and I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. That this chapter was closed. Then we talked about my writer’s block. I even had a block in discussing why this was happening to me. But as he moved my body and zeroed in on some key pressure points, shit started surfacing in a mad rush.

He hit some excruciatingly painful spots in my arms, and I started screaming. Then came more pain, and I fought and flailed. Tears erupted, and my head flooded with various images, but I still didn’t know what it was. I let go of the story though, and willed myself to just let it out. Healer demanded the same, telling me repeatedly to let it go. I wanted so badly to know what IT was, but as soon as I detached from the knowing, things started jumping out of my body. I felt lighter, I felt myself sucked into a light-filled vortex, and I knew we were on to something. Not there yet, but traveling at light speed, and about to hit the destination.

Healer moved up beyond my head and mumbled “It’s in your jaw.” I tensed up and felt my resistance. I loathe the jaw work – just one tiny push in that area sends incredible jolts of pain and horrendous emotional memory down my body. But he went in hard and fast and didn’t give me any time to prepare. I screamed some more. I fought like a caged panther. But it felt so good to finally have that deep cry, the multi-layered explosion. Suddenly, I saw beings all around me – all light-filled and lovely. Beings I have seen and felt in Shamanic ceremonies and during my most trying times. I heard my Guru telling me what a gift it will be to finally be honest. Honest about what? What was I hiding from?

The truth. The bloody terrifying truth. And then, I knew. I absolutely, unequivocally knew. I knew how to liberate myself. And it was the one thing I had been resisting more than any other.

This is my confession.

Most of my life, I’ve felt like sexual victim. I’ve felt so shutdown and abused and completely in the dark about my sexuality, I’ve forever been pegged as an abused being, and suspected something had transpired in my youth. And I have so much emotion around it, that as a young teenager, I found myself making up stories in order to justify the mess of feelings I could never shake. The stories got me love and support and sympathy. Things I craved so badly I would skirt to the edge of suicide without – then share a story, feel love, and survive just that much longer.

But the burden of these lies became far worse than the emotions that spawned them. Twice in my life, I came clean with the people I loved. And for the most part, it turned out well – I showed them my heart and they showed me forgiveness. Then came an acid tab at age 21, and snapshots of what I thought might be actual memories. Memories of sexual abuse as a child. The story that I always wanted to find.

I pounced on these images with intense veracity, and shared selectively with those I needed to feel love from. I needed this experience so badly, that I, at times, fell into a state of complete belief that these things really happened. Really atrocious things. I felt them, damn it – I knew it had to be real. And my first novel – it is entirely about this experience. A woman’s quest to validate her memories, hinging life and death on the result. They HAD to be real. Because if they weren’t, I not only could never explain my perceived brokenness, but I was also guilty of the most heinous of crimes – lying and manipulating the people I loved most.

In the meantime, I created many of the scenarios I feared the most. I brought men into my bed that did many of the things I thought transpired in my memories. Nightmarish acts of abuse. But rather than tell those truths and heal what had truly transpired, I held tight to the stories and made them my cross to bear. Thus avoiding the heart of the matter, and placing myself in a vicious, damning spiral.

This was life or death. If it turned out I was a big fraud, I could never face the music. I believed I would lose everything. So I kept myself in this ultimate darkness, this profound illusion, in order to stay safe. In order for my ego to keep her image up. That precious, ridiculous need to be right.

As Healer dug into my jaw, he ignited my truth. He pushed out the resistance to say what I know in the deepest parts of my soul to be real. And as it turns out, my stories were total falsities. The emotions, they were / are real. My angels, my Guru, and various people that love me unconditionally – all their souls jumped in to my sphere of consciousness and started to urge me on. To let go of this – my biggest self-inflicted demon – and have the bravery to be honest. And so after a long, long bout of tears, feet pounding on the table, writhing in pain and resistance – I let my body fall into a rag doll pose and I finally spoke the truth.

I told Healer that I had lied. That I had created these stories in order to help myself justify what I felt. That all I wanted to do was be honest and forgive myself – my ultimate dream and biggest fear. And he responded with something miraculous. He said there was nothing to forgive, and he held me and kissed my forehead.

We weren’t done with the session. He worked a bit more near my head chakra, then informed me that a rush of light / energy was about to enter my body, and that all I needed to do was receive. I lay limp and eager, feeling unbelievable relief and support from my band of celestial beings and earth-bound angels. Just as Healer told me, at exactly the moment he said “Here it comes”, I went from feeling frightened and freezing to an indescribable state of unconditional love. My body tingled through every pore, and this flood of warmth washed over me repeatedly. I was being absolved of the biggest burden I had ever known, and as I let go of the stories and the self-hatred and the shame, in came a million points of light to fill in the empty spaces. This was the greatest gift I could ever receive – the most profound healing of my life.

After the session, Healer and I stayed up to discuss the revelations. He shared his heart, I more of my truths, and I realized the session was anything but over. Since I had just cleared out the strongest blockage I had ever carried, the Divine was having no problem speaking through me. I found myself digging into Healer’s soul, asking him to show his heart to me, and to my humble realization, he responded in kind. We talked all night. Supporting each other, accepting every last nuance and deed, sharing love and support and not a single drop of judgment.

There’s another piece to this night, another huge unraveling, but it’s so profound and so huge and so much a part of me that it deserves it’s own spotlight. So for now, the confession ends. I’ll be back soon with more of the truth, and nothing but.

To Healer, Z, RyRy, Best Friend, Sage, Promises Partner, Pisces Prince, Miss L, all those who joined me this weekend, and everyone who loved me enough to give me this ultimate gift of love and growth and who care enough to forgive my gravest mistakes – thank you. There will never be enough words.

From http://people.tribe.net/kallab

My friend the Healer is in town. He lives in the ashram where my boyfriend lives, the one I’m intensely connected to as well, led by a Guru I recognize as my own. Healer gives sessions to folks seeking a release – rather like interactive massage, these 2 hour journeys can alter you more than a dozen tabs of ecstasy, more than a cup of Ayahuasca. I’ve had three in the past. One that cracked me open and welcomed me back into my body. One that released a tremendous amount of drug energy from the old days. One that threw me so far into the stratosphere I broke my ankle just a few hours later. Last night was number four, and I can’t imagine they could ever get more intense.

Before it was my turn on the table, six other incredibly precious people had their own versions of a breakthrough. One woman transformed so much – from a mask-wearing fear walker into a genuine, glowing, self-empowered goddess – that it makes me sob just to think of what a gift she received. Some resisted a true breakthrough and just grabbed a few nuggets to bolt out the door with. Others internalized the experience, quietly pondering the openings, trying to analyze what has transpired (and no doubt failing, as it’s not for the head to know.) All, however, took a huge leap forward into the divine, and since these are not just people, but part of my soul family, nothing – and I do mean nothing – could make me feel more happy, more connected to the source, than watching them tackle the task of self-love.

A little after midnight, it was my turn. Healer hinted that our session would be very different from the last ones, than most sessions he’s ever done. He just asked me to trust him, which put me in a near paralyzing state of fear, but a request I could do nothing but grant. There’s nothing I cannot trust him with, and I want the full enchilada, the maximum amount of healing I can possibly attain in every moment. Despite the way it makes my ego feel hijacked and terrified. Too bad for her.

And so I trusted him. Whatever he saw as my highest good, I accepted. I know what it would look like before he made the first request – I know what my biggest fear would be, and naturally, that’s exactly where we went.

Nothing, nothing, nothing makes me feel more afraid and vulnerable than being naked in the presence of a male. I guess I can finally admit that I’ve sourced a tremendous array of sexual abuse, as well as holding my body and my sexual being in a tremendously dark space for most of my life. I’ve had the naked spa massages, but there’s a wall in those experiences that keep it safe. And it took me years and years to even get close to those, and to date, while I have had one or two decent massages, it’s never been a breakthrough. I’ve always stayed more in my head than in my body – a constant state of being for me all together.

So when Healer said – take off your clothes for this one – although I felt my body jolt and tense, the rest of me wasn’t the least bit surprised, despite the fact that he had never requested this of me or any of the many friends I’ve brought to him. He his the best friend of my boyfriend, my ashram partner, my healer – I can do this, I told myself. I am not in danger.

Healer left the room so I could strip down and slide under the sheets, into safety. Then he came in and told me simply – It’s just a massage.
Just a massage.
And on the outside, I suppose that’s all it was. Nothing risque or line-crossing, nothing that a G-rated film couldn’t show. But because of the intention behind us both, this turned out to be one of the most intense 2 hours I’ve ever had. Healer dug into my pain body, pushing on muscles that have been violently clinging to the abuse and pain and fear for eons, willing them – and me – to release the darkness. God fucking damn it, this was hard. At times the physical pain was so severe I felt myself checking out entirely, writhing from the pain and trying to find a spot inside my screaming mind where I could hide. But then he’d urge me – let it out, let it go, feel it; it’s not physical, this is emotional pain – and suddenly, a wave would wash up. I cried and coughed and groaned and screamed, falling back and forth into motionless silence and earth-shaking seizures and outpourings. And all the while, all Healer did was massage my muscles. Arms, calves, back, neck – the usual suspects. But the energy he held, and the energy that rushed through me – it could have powered up the Vegas strip for the next hundred centuries. I pretty much trembled and quaked for the 2 full hours, as if I were planted in an ice storm. I saw the images of many men – those that hurt me on purpose, those that did so through their own pain, and one in particular – my Z – who is the one man I know can and will help me change the paradigm. For once and for all.

By the end of the session, I was as altered as the old E-popping days, completely out of body. Completely. I felt so safe with Healer, so overwhelmed with gratefulness that he could love me enough to help me release layers that I thought I might just die with, they were so deep and primal. We shared such a tender, bonded eve. He left me alone so I could get dressed and wash my face, then he came back in to help me sleep. I curled up in my bed like a five year old girl, wrapped in the covers and trying to fathom what just transpired. Trying to breathe again, to feel normal again. Healer came in and cocooned me on top of the covers, giving me the protection I craved. As I lie there, it was as if I were in a shamanic ceremony – the lights were firing off behind my eyes, messages flying at warp speed, and beings dancing before me with love and light-filled expressions. My Guru spoke to me a time or two, little zingers that soothed me in just the right ways. It was all just beyond description. When Healer finally left around 5 AM to get a couple of hours of sleep, I laid there wired and dazed. I felt both frightened and sad, raw and vulnerable, and yet strong, resilient proud, and amazed at what I had just experienced.

As we talked this morning, we realized another incredible occurrence that transpired during the session – my iPod pitched in and was instrumental in the process. Healer had selected a meditative album of music, which Romeo (mr. iPod) played about every other song. But without prompting, without any set-up by Healer or myself, the iPod started playing my favorite album – Sigur Ros’ Takk. Takk is so precious to me, not only because this is my favorite album from my favorite band, but because it is the soundtrack for my shamanic journeys. I listen to it incessantly during those trips, and in between, so it holds tremendous meaning. So amazing and perfect that the universe would intervene and play just the right song at just the right moment. Every time Healer would will me to feel, and I’d hit that massive resistance wall and believe it was impossible to process this latest mammoth pain-layer, Sigur Ros would kick in and the mad-push would just crumble, and I along with it. I’m telling you, there’s no arguing I was in the cradle of the divine last night. There’s just no explaining how much that will mean to and for me, throughout my body and soul’s journey.

Today is day 2 of our healing weekend. I have 5 more angel-friends stepping up for their turn. Each one will look and feel entirely different – seemingly larger and smaller, but in fact equally profound, whether it’s a conscious recognition. I’m blessed to be the hostess once again, to welcome staggeringly beautiful people into my home and offer a chance to lurch forward into the light. Is there any greater role / gift? Not a chance.

And Healer tells me I am due for session number five tonight. A back to back occurrence – and another first. I have no idea what’s in store – I never do – and I am exhausted and defenseless, which means it’ll be magical once again.

For now, I am rebuilding the cellular memories, the identity of Me. No more the victim, no more the girl who is carrying all that bloody pain. Talk about your turning corners – I may even have whiplash. But it’s a really, really small price to pay.

In my own sacred circle, the same cycle is illuminated. Someone I can say I have loved more recklessly than any other is apparently in that state – and he’s destructive enough to do the deed. The kind that will either end things in a dramatic, self-induced blaze, or will snap like a dried-out twig and ascend back up to absolute greatness. He’s been there before, but under false pretenses.
Then there’s another soul, a Shaman friend, who has sent not-so-cryptic messages hell bent on giving up.

As if we need more proof that even our mere thoughts are cataclysmic to the whole grand scheme. We are so foolish to think that we live in these invisible silos, convinced that it’s perfectly fine to destroy ourselves, because no one else (or very few, anyway) will ever be harmed.

As one of these destructive beauties used to say to me all the time – get your head out of your ass. It’s all completely contagious – darkness, light, and everything in between. The moment you take on your own self-healing, it ignites the fever for countless others. And the moment you decide, fuck it, I’m ready to passively (or not so passively) end my selfish misery, the domino effect hits, full tilt.

There are. No. Walls.

I say all this with with complete love and empathy for those contemplating the ultimate exit. I have been seven minutes away from such efforts – so said the ambulance driver. Someday I’ll be able to put into words what it felt like to lay on a stretcher inside a speeding, screaming little truck, four faces looming above me, shoving down tubes into every conceivable body part, making jokes about their wives and telling me how close I came to success. Or failure. However you slice it.

I didn’t know then that I was spreading my disease. I gotta believe most of us don’t. It just makes survival all the more pivotal. We’re not doing this just for our immediate circle – it really is universal. It really is the only way to say I Love – to take care of yourself. To take on the task of intensely painful, mind-numbingly difficult healing.

I am in the thick of it. I am trying to reject the purest love I’ve ever known, outside of the Divine, because of my insistence on projecting my fears, while keeping up the arduous task of punishing myself for unknown atrocities.
But the mere fact that I am aware of these efforts – it’s a miracle. And it, too, is contagious.
I know that I’ll emerge, that proverbial Phoenix, and take thousands of others with me. I know that I am ascending, even in the wake of this new wave of mad destruction, because others are doing the same. I don’t have words for how grateful that makes me feel.
If enough of us say – I am Love. I choose to Heal.
Than those who refuse to make the choice will soon have no choice. There’s no where to go but up.

Separation doesn’t exist – it never has. In the old days, this would have been a profoundly horrific realiziation – I couldn’t bare the cosmic pressure, so the Universe kept the truth from me. I found out in a shamanic circle, purging layer upon layer of self-hatred, and discovering my light – and thusly, my power. I have no more or less than anyone else, but the fact that I Know now – it shoulders an immense responsibility.

Yes, I concede that I am in darkness this eve. The kind with sparkly stars (I swear I can see Orion looming just above my crown).
I will find a way out because I have no other choice. There will be no tragic three for me – it’s the only thing my spiritual self asked that I give up. I can admit that tonight I miss Her – the chance to indulge in self-destruction (an idealized task I loved so fiercely, I named her Consumption). I would love to once agian pretend that I can abuse myself at will, and no one will know, or be affected. But tomorrow, when the sun blasts into my heart again, I will be joyful for a chance to keep healing – myself, and everyone else. No more delusion.
Who knows, maybe we can make a new cliche.