My introduction to Shamanism
bosco
late winter.
I was out walking, a nightly routine I had developed as I worked nights
and needed something to do at night when everyone else slept.
Without warning there were three middle aged men, and a younger man,
perhaps in his mid twenties standing in front of me some feet away with
the young man a little closer. There was a dog with them, a German
Shepard.
One of the men told the young man, "Go ahead". The young man looked
aprehensive, but determined.
The dog became excited - sort of hopping and jumping, coming a little
closer each hop. The dog was also growling and barking, focused on me.
I didn't know what was going on, but I knew it was deadly serious.
I knew the dog was going to attack me. Within a second or two, it made
one final hop, and squatted down, staring at my throat.
It leapt from about eight feet away like an arrow in flight.
From behind me and to the side a Lioness flew by me (from leaping too)
and caught the dog in mid flight about two feet from my throat.
The young didn't know what to do, I was stunned, and the three men were
disapointed in the young man. They thought he should have done better.
That was my introduction to Shamanism. All I had to do after that was
discover what the heck took place, and why me.
This group was my starting place.
Allan
and had gone through the development group to train as a medium. I was
used to 'receiving,' strange thoughts and, 'in my mind's eye,'
visions. I thought I was doing pretty good, although, at the time I
had not yet seen a spirit with my physical eyes. Funnily enough that
happened not long after my own 'introduction.'
Three of the church's mediums had arranged an evening of flower
readings with the idea of using a flower picked by the sitter to get
insight into the sitter to give them information psychically, and,
hopefully, from that move on to giving them a message from a dead
person they would recognise.
I'd done two already, and the evening was going well. Then it was my
turn again. The flowers were each in an envelope so I picked one at
random and finding the actual flower was a bit difficult as it was
only a very small and half withered daisy. Except the power from that
humble flower was amazing. The first thing I picked up was the sitter
had an interest in ancient Mexican history and religion, and was
studying their beliefs in regard to the spirituality behind the human
sacrifices. I had a mind's eye vision of the gate of the sun and
stepped pyramids. Next thing I knew was that I was eyeball to eyeball
with a Mayan priest, and he wasn't in my head! Eyeball to eyeball is
just as it was. How long I was silent for I don't know, I knew no one
else could see him, and I also knew I had 2 choices. Run away out the
door and never come back as the embarrassment would make sure of that,
or just stare him down. After a while the priests eyes began to smile,
and things returned to normal, and the evening just continued.
Later, at home, the priest came back only this time in my head and
began to explain a lot, and has, along with many others, explained a
lot more ever since. The very wierd thing is I've no interest in
anything to do with that area of the world's practices. My shamanism
follows a Celtic tradition, but by opening a door for another to
connect with their own guidance, I was helped to connect with my own
properly.
Allan
Randgrithr
6 in the morning. 98% of the people this happens to die instantly.
Essentially it is your aorta rupturing.
My father hung on, and my entire family were in the hall outside
surgery while they tried to save him. Although none of us could hear
anything, I knew when they were applying the paddles as if I was in
the room with them, and I sensed my father dying on the table. His
soul (which I perceived as a ball of golden light) shot up toward the
sky and he turned to say goodbye.
My family sitting with me out in the hallway saw me stand up, burst
into tears and scream "NO!!!!" I reached up toward the sky with my
left hand and pulled down. I am not sure if I was doing it in this
world (I will have to ask the rest of my family I guess), but I was
definitely doing it in the otherworld. I pulled his soul back down to
earth. It was like trying to catch a cannonball. I hurt myself somehow
doing it, but I did it. I was telling him that it wasn't his time, and
that his family loved him and needed him. I did not know it at the
time but this was a classic example of the shamanic task of
psychopomping.
Later when he was conscious, my mother asked my father if he had seen
anything. He didn't want to talk about it, and for several months
after that he looked at me like he was scared shitless of me. He
couldn't look me in the eye.
Less than a week later I had a dream that I was on the number 7 subway
heading east toward the city. There is a long stretch between the
Vernon Jackson Avenue and Grand Central stations because the train has
to cross the river between Queens and Manhattan. During this part of
the trip, three guys came in and tried to hold up the people in the
subway car. They were harassing an old lady who was getting really
scared and I got very pissed off. I went beserk and attacked the
robbers. The first one I disabled by kneecapping him and then hitting
him in the face. The second, who had a gun, tried to shoot me but I
moved the body of the first guy between us so that instead he shot his
buddy. The first guy fell to the floor and I got the second guy with a
blow to the solar plexus followed by a kick to the head. He went down,
out cold and possibly dead.
Then I went after the third guy, who also had a gun and who had had
more time to get ready to deal with me. He shot me, first in the
shoulder and then several times in the chest, but not before I put a
hurt on him too. I died with my hands closing tightly around his
throat in a beserk rage, I felt the impact of the shots but was so
infuriated that I didn't feel the pain from them.
While this was happening the train pulled into Grand Central and a
"black man" - he looked like he was entirely made of a starry night
sky - caught my falling body in his arms as the train doors opened and
took me to Tir Na Nog. I have been told by Celtic types that this was
probably Arawn.
Tir Na Nog was beautiful. There is actually an earthly place that it
reminded me of. The sunlight filtered down through the golden trees
and the Sidhe (or Liosalfar) were all sitting around partying. They
told me that since I had died a hero's death I had earned my place
there. I thanked them but said I was very unhappy because my father is
a Christian and I wanted to be able to see him but he didn't believe
in this place. The elves all began laughing their asses off, they
found this absolutely hysterical. They then explained to me that
"Heaven is all one place" and moving between the different variations
thereof is no more difficult than traveling from New York to New
Jersey.
This was my introduction to shamanism.
Néo
>
> (...)
I'm glad I could read those three highly
interesting and vivid accounts.
Now, what can _I_ write down... I've been
pondering on this since I read them, while
having been also really tired, and... oh
well, let's have a try. Initially, only
stuff that I already wrote about in this
group first came to my mind.
I could mention a vivid dream that I had
at 13 or 14 - I had thought it was merely
a nightmare, but when I examined it again
many years after, it looked rather like a
dismemberment.
I could mention a highly memorable moment
of a mystical nature that I experienced at
22, and that I could eventually explain
(by far) many years after. The shamanical
aspect of that bit was that it was my first
conscious contact with the spirit of my
spiritual Dad, Up Above - even though he
didn't say anything to me at the time.
I could mention this very peculiar first
contact with the spirit guide who became
my spiritual spouse, especially now that I
can see in retrospect that it was indeed a
first step in this two years process that
would eventually render visible to my own
eyes the soul that I'm bearing.
The new bit I'm adding now is, I found out
it's the spirit of one of the children of
Randgrithr's boss Up Above.
--
N�o
bosco
> bosco a �crit :
>>
>> (...)
>
> ....boss Up Above.
Interesting how we came from different paths and directions.
Randgrithr
> The new bit I'm adding now is, I found out
> it's the spirit of one of the children of
> Randgrithr's boss Up Above.
Freyja is not my boss.
*I* am my boss.
Freyja is my guardian, my guide, and my Goddess.
And my friend.
Randgríðr
Néo
Very true. Yet as if through some permanent
miracle, and beyond a gazillion differences
related to culture, personality, as well as
specifics of the path followed, we seem to
be able to recognize a fellow practitioner
when we meet one.
--
N�o
Néo
Sorry if I offended you in any way, know that it
was clearly not my intent. I was (perhaps clumsily)
alluding to the idea that Valkyries could be seen
as a military unit, and (maybe not fully knowing
why except for discretion's sake) I was looking for
a metaphor - instead of naming Freyja clearly here.
I could even add that Bragi recently told me clearly
that I should see not only Frigg, but also Freyja as
(also) a boss. I won't go into a discussion about
the scope of those words here, but even the dumb I
could see some reasons for them, especially in the
present times of war. Whatever.
Sparing everyone a list of what she is or isn't for
me...
--
N�o
Randgrithr
> Sorry if I offended you in any way,
You didn't, really. The need for Asatruar to explain to people whose
primary paradigm has been the angry and jealous god of Judeo-
Christianity that our relationships with our Gods are not entirely
servile needs to be repeated often enough such that my impatience
might have come across. But that's really all it was, and it's not
your fault.
know that it
> was clearly not my intent. I was (perhaps clumsily)
> alluding to the idea that Valkyries could be seen
> as a military unit,
Not all Valkyries answer to or work with Freyja. Some also work with
Odin, and all interact regularly with the rest of the pantheon. I have
done a great deal of work with the Liosalfar as well.
Randgríðr