Garden Healing Church

Grateful for Healing in Nature – for all of us mind control subjects

Tag Archives: shamanic healing


by Leave a comment

Pleiadian Starseeds?

I just watched a few videos on Gaia TV, interviews with Sebastian Martin.


It inspired me to write my memories of my connection to Pleiadians, in context with other important aspects of my life. It seems our lives were quite different, but they do seem to fit into an overall picture which is encouraging to me.

In November 1999, I remembered leaving my home in the Pleiades. I felt “young” (100 years old?), very well educated , going on a mission with fellow Pleiadeans, watching the Pleiades recede from a rear window, wondering what it will feel like to be gone for a very long time. No Earthly emotions.

We joined a convention of other races in space (the Alliance?), concerned about the Earth, agreeing we couldn’t decide whether to intervene or not until we had more information. (One faction suggested things were so bad, Earth should be destroyed, blown up.)

A group of us volunteered to incarnate here to gather more information. And, while we’re here, try to introduce positive ideas into the social consciousness.

I did not know what I was getting into when I agreed to be born into the heart of mind control. The first time I was tortured, about one day old, I left my body, looked down briefly at the room, then flew up over the clouds and called to my colleagues, whom I assumed had witnessed my experience because it was so intense and we were still psychically connected. I assumed they would agree with me that we should all leave, because the agreement was to stay together or leave together, and this was far worse than I had expected. But my colleagues said that the families they were born into were worth staying for, and they assured me they believed that was true for most of the planets inhabitants.

I was momentarily stunned at their majority opinion, but our colleagues who did not incarnate agreed to provide me extra support, and I accepted this.

For some years, I left my body a lot, until they told me I needed to slow down the frequency. They somehow closed the portal I had been using, and I got used to staying, waiting for them, with sadness.

Soon I quit trying but was so happy whenever the portal opened, always when I was in my bed, before I fell asleep, and I would see the vortex above me (to my right), knew I was leaving, going to see my people, then I would suddenly plop back into my bed, with no memories of what had happened, but deep gratitude, confidence and assurance that everything was going to be okay, and I knew I was cared for.

One day, when I was still fairly young, I came back with a new feeling of huge disappointment. They had told me I had to be patient for an even longer time now, abut that they would be watching and helping me always, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to them for a very long time. And it was even best if I would forget about them in my Earthly personality. And I did.

Through the rest of my childhood and into my 30s, I had no particular beliefs about the other realms. In my 30s, however, I met environmentalist pagans and was invited to their ceremonies in the forest, but I tip-toed away, not sure what I believed.

Years later, I found myself saying that if something we call Spirit existed, It would let me know. And soon I had a healing involving trees talking to me, encouraging me to hug one of them, and then an incredible frequency of energy pouring down through me that I described as feeling as though I’d had a radio inside me tuned to static all my life, and the radio had just been turned off. I struggled to find more words to describe it, using crystalline and clarity. I would never be the same again.

When my son got cancer (later healed), and I realized I had to divorce my abusive second husband (who was my mind control handler), I had a nervous breakdown (highly recommended), and had my first realizations that I had been sexually abused as a child.

The next year I realized I was a “multiple personality,” and moved out to the desert to build a small strawbale home off grid. There, I began years of experiences others called shamanic.

All my years of wondering if something called Spirit existed, I refused to read “spiritual” books. I did not want to have anyone else’s ideas frame my experiences and possibly twist them. And I was flatly disinterested in the subject of aliens.

One weekend, I joined environmentalist friends camping in the desert, where one man insisted I look at the Pleiades through his binoculars. I was talking to someone else and didn’t want to look at sparkly things in the sky. He insisted further, and with much irritation, I looked. To my absolute astonishment I was shocked to feel powerful sensations of home and longing that made me want to cry. I couldn’t hold back and blurted out that I thought I was from there, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth in embarrassment. I had been programmed by our culture making consistent fun of people who believed in things like this. I continued confused and silent about the experience for years.

As Y2K approached, I became concerned that I wanted to be a more careful documentarian about my strange experiences, so I decided to change my journaling style into something closer to a science journal. Instead of bemoaning my distressing situation of being a victim of sexual abuse, divorced from abusive men, alone and confused, with weird things continuously happening that seemed too much in a single person’s life, I decided to simply document precisely what I had experienced, separate from what I assumed it meant, and separate from my emotions. Sometimes I would write about a different category of spiritual events, where the 3-D world suddenly was shot through with the revelation of other dimensions and beings.

On the eve of Y2K, I burned all my journals from the 80s and 90s (unfortunately). And began my science journals. (Today I have three large boxes of journals, which I’ve summarized into a database with over 1,100 lines describing events or select parts of complex events.)

Powerful experiences unfolded in the coming years, with spirit animals, natural animals, angels, Jesus, Isis, orbs, UFOs, aliens, and people I assume were government agents. It seemed too much.

Finally, I went to the library and brought home the maximum number of books allowed on one subject – almost all of them about aliens – and I began to read what others had experienced.

It would be many years before I recognized that I had disability to interact in other dimensions because I had become so familiar with other realms by leaving my body so often during childhood abuse.

One morning I woke with a surgical incision on my neck that seemed to have been done with the very highest technology, likely alien. (Five years later a nurse practitioner noticed it, and asked when I’d had my thyroid surgery.)

Eight years after realizing I was a multiple personality, I would realize I was also a mind control subject. It was Earth shaking to me, and I wrestled with my life purpose and whether it would be better to not be alive, so as not be an asset to people abusing other people so terribly.

By happenstance, I reconnected with an environmentalist-pagan acquaintance, who came to live with me, and help me believe I had a purpose in staying alive.

When we were deciding whether he would come live with me, multiple signs delighted us, including us waking throughout the night in our camp and me repeatedly seeing the Pleiades over his head.

Over the years, I came to realize he was continuously distracting me from my spiritual and meditative life, so I wondered whether he was yet another handler, and I asked him to leave, and he did. He had also interfered with my livelihood, I was in debt, and someone seemed to be sabotaging all my efforts to get work. I was also feeling like a sitting duck for alien and government harassment, so I sold my home and left (as if I could escape them).

I had experienced small grays, very tall ones with military bearing, ones that took me up in a beam and moved me through two portals, ones that took me up into a huge triangle ship along with my pagan partner, and one Draco with military bearing who immobilized me, put a device to the back of my head and made me unconscious. I had also been stopped on the highway, lost two hours of time, and had something implanted in my vagina. And with two guests visiting my pagan friend and I, we witnessed a UFO shot down and listened to the reconnaissance mission as it passed by on the highway. (My home was not too distant from Fort Huachuca, a major Air Force intelligence base.)

I had no context for understanding these varied experiences, and was afraid to tell anyone. (I had been consistently called a liar by my mother after I had talked about my sexual abuse at the age of four, so I was careful to always tell the truth and afraid to tell a truth that no one would believe.)

However, when I read Whitley Strieber’s book Secret School, a book about his memories of being in some sort of training on another dimension, I decided to write him. After a year he wrote me with an emotional story about having intended to contact me immediately, but some sort of mind control was stopping him. Soon after, I was interviewed by him and Jim Marrs.

A local Native shaman visited and offered himself as a teacher by way of a gift of a white eagle tail feather, but my mind control seemed to freeze me so that I could not say a word, and he and his wife eventually drove away.

After I sold my home and had money, I would attend consciousness conferences and be surprised to have Native people approach me and tell me things I had been wondering for years and needed to know. In one case a group of Native women seemed delighted to see some other-dimensional beings traveling with me over my head.

In medicine journeys as well as mundane life, I frequently had Native women on another dimension drop into or emerge from inside me and take over for a short while.

A European shaman and renowned consciousness researcher, Ralph Metzner, offered to write the Foreword to my book if I would write it, as he had been encouraging me to do, so I did, and he did. (My book was well praised, but has been “shadow banned” on Amazon, and all the reviews of my book have disappeared.)

Also at consciousness conferences, I seemed to have been recognized by people involved in mind control. They never initiated contact, but when we passed in a hallway, they stared and I could psychically hear their mental wrestling with how to act as if they hadn’t recognized me.

After a YouTube video about my book went modestly viral, views suddenly stopped, and the numbers in the thousands began running backward. It was clear the controllers did not want me to communicate.

In September 2009, I had a vision of a translucent egg-shaped ship approaching Earth, just letting me know it was nearby and wanting me personally to know that. I was too afraid to think of anything too good happening for me, so I held it in a place of wonder, but not belief.

Soon, I seemed to have been made a guinea pig for various government experiments, especially in frequency weapons. I woke up with taser burns, biopsy scoop marks, strange bruises, joints out of place, and eventually an inoculation with Lyme Disease (an event from which I came back to consciousness earlier than the doctors expected, and heard one man tell another that this would kill me slowly).

I became disabled, quit my job, was unable to pay for a doctor to help me understand what I had, left my new home, and lived in an RV for five years, camping in Nature.

As a nomad, I realized I was still being targeted with various experiments and harassments wherever I went.

Nevertheless, living in Nature for five years, on Social Security, not working, I had time to think about my life, and remember the positive parts about it, including the mystery of why I thought I was from the Pleiades.

My mind control had included suggestions to never believe anything good could come to me, so it was a big struggle to remember the positive things that have come to me throughout my life:

Coming here to do good and relay information to others.

Having spontaneous healing and channeling flow through.

Having been healed myself when in despair and not expecting help.

Some of my experiences I’ve never known for sure whether they were from my helpers or my controllers – experiences like downloads that force me to stagger to the nearest chair, dreams about spaceships, beams of healing energy, and the emergence of an inner warrior who can immediately and easily dismiss an evil spirit intent on threatening me. None of these things did I desire. Possibly because of my mind control, I wanted it only to be average and normal, definitely not have to be associated with extraordinary things.

Because I’ve been socially sabotaged, isolated, and lied about for decades by family and handle-husbands, I’ve been very uncertain about how I’m supposed to accomplish anything. Because my angels (Pleiadian colleagues?) keep healing me, I believe there must be something I’m supposed to do, but I do not understand how to accomplish anything, given my situation.

Currently, I have my professional/activist website, separate from my mind control website, separate from my Garden Healing Church website, which I just sat down and wrote as if channeled one day, and haven’t done very much with. I keep my mind control stuff and my spiritual stuff separate from the rest of me. Because easy because of my MK and being a “well designed” multiple and four fear of being called crazy. I did finally put links between them a few years ago, but I never tell anyone in my main group of friends and acquaintances about what is in the other sites.

Why? Having been isolated and sabotaged and discredited, it’s hard to be vulnerable with information other people simply don’t believe.

Also, my efforts to communicate so often result in punishment.

Also, I hesitate to state anything with certainty when we live in such an environment of lies. I don’t want to be wrong.

(The videos I watched were part of Gaia TV’s Cosmic Disclosure: Pleiadian Agenda with Josh Golembeske.)

JeanEisenhower.com


by Leave a comment

Multidimensional Wounding AND Healing

by http://artoftu.deviantart.comI have to confess I’ve been downplaying part of my story.

I’ve been neglecting to share (or minimize sharing) the fact that my strange experiences – that often seem related to mind control and sometimes to “alien” weirdness – are sometimes accompanied by events that seem to be spiritual healings.

This is HUGE.  And I want to explain – if only to myself – why I’ve minimized this fact.

I’ve been hesitant to claim them publicly because, in the context of mind control, it’s confusing to me, because mind control, as I understand it, is done by humans for dark purposes, while healings seem spiritual and positive – and they often seem to be related.

The healings, outside this context, always felt like they might be construed by others as “spiritual bragging,” i.e., I’m so special or so spiritually in tune that spiritual beings granted me this miracle – even when I hadn’t asked!

Uncertain how to overcome these hurdles in my head, I waited, thinking I’d eventually understand, and now years have gone by, and I apologize for minimizing this aspect of my story.

Here are some of the experiences (many described in my book RattleSnake Fire, published in 2008):

energy linesUsually in the evenings, and usually while alone, but not always, I sometimes get a sudden and powerful sensation of energy that seems to pour into me from my head or neck and flow, over the course of maybe 10-30 seconds, down throughout my body.  The sensations feel wonderful, and I’ve described them in various ways – sometimes as healing or clearing, sometimes filling me up and making me feel my cells are enlarging, to such an extent that it seems my vertebrae are spreading apart, lengthening my spine, so that I need to adjust my body to “allow room” for a bigger, taller me!

hulkSometimes I’ve called the energy “the Hulk routine,” because it’s so powerful.  (Remember the Hulk got his power in order to whoop bad guys.)  Indeed, the power has often been so great that I could not resist moving with it, bending forward to make room for the energy flow down my back, my arm and leg muscles also moving with the force.  When someone else was around, if they knew what I was going through, I’d often sheepishly, jokingly indicate what was happening near the end of the process (maybe 30 seconds long) by miming a muscle-man pose – because I couldn’t speak while this was happening.

Sometimes I’ve been frightened by it, as when a friend suggested it might be “a possession.”

Other times, these have been so clearly healing.  Once, while visiting some friends and feeling weirdly energetically distressed, I went alone into the dining room, sat down, and first felt a procession of teenager selves lift off of me and up into another dimension; after looking down and seeing the energetic form of my legs which seemed to be hollow from the knees down, suddenly golden energy poured through me like a golden cascade flowing down into my feet and legs.  I was fascinated because a decade earlier a Rolfer had told me he could see no aura beneath my knees and had begun his work there and continued to work all year to bring energy into them and never told me he succeeded.  I theorized that I must have lost that grounding during the trauma of my teen years, and now the trauma had been finally released (odd place and time, but I accepted!) and the space filled.

These inpourings of energy have been so frequent that I couldn’t begin to count them without going through at least twelve years of journals.

by http://artoftu.deviantart.comAfter my most recent, probably third, heart attack last month, I had two such healing events.  One happened, incongruously – proving that this comes from an outside source, not my own doing or imagination – while watching a video with a friend.  Of course, I was surprised at the timing, but grateful, and didn’t even mention it to my friend.  That night, while lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by the healing energies again.  They were “the usual”:  wonderful, expansive, clearing, and healing.  The next day, after 12 days of extreme weakness, I woke feeling very well, and my 12-day long crisis was passed.

The meaning of this?  I think I know, but don’t want to say.

You, Readers, formulate your own theories.  Don’t get stuck as I have been too long, thinking the horrors are only horrors.  There could be something else at work.

I’ll talk about this more later.

Blessings on you and on us all.


by Leave a comment

Shamanic Healing in the Amazon and Simple Healing in Your Own Backyard

Ah, confirmation from the folks at Sacred Science:

(I’ve underlined the “nut” of it.)

…This week’s piece is in response to a question that I am often asked after screenings of The Sacred Science film.

The question is: “Do I have to take a trip to the Amazon to get this type of healing?”

My best response to this, believe it or not, is that many of the techniques seen in the film can be applied in just about any town or city on the planet. With a little creativity, you don’t necessarily need to seek out a pricey jungle healing center or track down a traveling shaman in order to heal using these methods.
Below is one of the fundamental strategies that the shamans used in our film.  Don’t be deceived by how simple it is!
Full Immersion In NatureOne of the most overlooked tools used in traditional jungle medicine is full immersion in nature.  I’m talking about isolation in the middle of the woods, surrounded by nothing but trees, grass, rocks, and the occasional furry passerby. 

What happens when we rid ourselves of all modern day distractions?  Our televisions, our computers, the radio, even newspapers and books – things that certainly have value but also take focus away from ourselves.
If you’ve seen The Sacred Science, you have a good idea of just what I’m talking about.  The patients we brought into the Amazon packed a ton of extra stuff including iPods, laptops, writing instruments, painting tools, you name it..  And to their dismay, each of these items was taken “for safe keeping” by the support staff upon their arrival.
You see, in this type of ancient medicine the key is to rid yourself of any outlet that you can distract yourself with, regardless of how beneficial you might think it is…
Stay curious,
Nick & The Sacred Science Team

 


by Leave a comment

Personal Shamanism & My History with Ritual

I’ve always had extreme resistance to ritual.

I have memories of leaving Mormon “Children’s Church” in a state of vile hatred, glancing back with a scowl that couldn’t be dark enough.  No memory of what that was about, but I guess it had something to do with ritual.

As a young adult wannabe-Jesus-hippie in various mainstream Christian churches, I always wondered if the minister or choir soloist really felt what they were emoting with this audience, or if it ever became just ritual and they were acting.  I thought it a terrible responsibility to have to perform like that on schedule.

When I was coerced into trying out a college sorority (to prove I wasn’t “judging them without really knowing them” [I’d called them “plastic”]) and then succumbed to a charade designed personally for each specially-sought “Rec” (recommendation, which I also then learned I’d been), and was initiated into the secret society, I either went into a trance spontaneously, or else they put me, or us all, in one.  I remember nothing of the initiation ceremony, but for a split-second flash.  This was the culmination of the entire year for most all the young women there, yet I had no memory but for a flash.

The split-second flash involved our chapter president in a red satin choir-type robe, holding a book open in one hand, while lifting her other hand in a gesture, a confident, almost beatific expression on her face, a candle lit somewhere, red drapes behind her.  Everyone else I could see was standing in rows, all dressed in red robes.  I went home like everyone else for the summer and wrote them a letter of “de-activation.”

I don’t feel as able to participate in ritual and have real thoughts when following someone else.

It’s not the ritual itself; it’s the fact that others are involved (Jesus said, “Pray alone”) and how the ritual is created.

When my sister told the family she had a very aggressive brain cancer, confirmed by two oncologists, I was afraid to test my ability to pray and my worthiness to have my prayers answered.  Each night, I felt guilty for not believing in myself, and felt I should pick up the brightly-clattering Tarahumara rattle I had, but was too embarrassed to pretend I had any right to perform anything like a ritual with it – though I thought I did have the right.  I imagined invisible spirits around me who would smirk at my efforts, maybe worse.  So I cast off a casual prayer each night and ignored the idea that I should do more.

On the third night, before blowing out the candle, I stopped and my hand reached out for the rattle.  Energy coursed through my body with a calm benevolence and firm intention.  Calm, self-possessed, powerful, someone, not me, performed the ritual, and I yielded and took note.  We shook the rattle and called in power from the four directions, and called on two spirit animals that I’d had experiences with and one that I’d just read about, but who was necessary in this situation.  We sent the trio to my sister with specific instructions, wound up the ritual, and set down the rattle.  I was impressed, pleased, and not afraid at all that a healing might not happen.  Two days later, my sister wrote the family that the cancer was suddenly no longer there.

I was forced to perform another ritual when my partner seemed to being dying of a chemical dousing after he’d been handing out papers on chemtrails.  We woke one morning to find a chemtrail jet flying low, directly over our house.  Then he discovered two dogs (never seen before and never seen since) ripping the wall of his art studio teepee from bottom to top, which he would need to repair that day, as a storm was predicted the next.  He worked outside all day while I stayed in.

chemtrail

Over the course of five days, he became lethargic and began to have blood in his urine.  When I looked at it through a ten-power lens, I saw needle-like formations covered with white globs.  He began to sleep a lot and eventually became unconscious and unable to speak more than a single word every hour or so.  Neither of us trust doctors, so going to the hospital was not discussed, though I did ask him once when it seemed very dire.  He hissed, “No!”

I used a deck of Herbal Tarot cards, hoping to read about an herb I could use, but instead I drew a very rare herb, but the card depicted a shamaness, and I felt the message was to step into this role.  I sat sullenly, waiting for more direction.

Finally I accepted Asante‘s one-word plea to conduct a healing ritual:  “Rattle.”  I had to force myself, and shut up the voices in my head telling me I was stupid, stupid, stupid, had no right, no training, didn’t know what I was doing, etc.  But as I focused, circled inside the house, began my prayers, and shook the rattle, I felt a healing spirit come in and teach me.

Shaking the rattle over Asante’s body, prone on the sofa, I felt an energetic heaviness that seemed to be breaking up, so I rattled and cast the heaviness toward the door on the west.  When one arm was tired, I rattled with the other.  He made a single noise of relief, so I kept on until both arms were too weary.  Then I set down the rattle and sat to simply imagine the heaviness moving away.  When I fell asleep, he grunted for help, and I woke to resume the ritual of lifting up and casting away the heaviness.  When he was able to speak the next day, he said it had been like being under a pile of boulders, entirely helpless to free himself, and suddenly I was lifting off the boulders and he saw light.

It was a huge lesson for me:  the world is amazing, and even I, reluctant I, can be used to work miracles.  But of course – Christ said we would do “all this [healings] and more.”

But I didn’t want the responsibility to do it again.  I didn’t want the criticisms I had of myself – stupid, no right, etc – to come at me from others.

But that’s mind control, the cultural sort that tells us we can’t do things, and if we think we can, we are especially stupid and to be ridiculed.

And even though I know I’ve been mind-controlled worse than others, it’s so deeply embedded in me that I have a hard time acting on what I know.  Things I know like:  We can heal ourselves.

So I’ve done only one other healing ritual.  My cousin has multiple myloma and has outlived the “6 months to live” prediction by ten or fifteen years now!  He came to visit Asante and me, and someone suggested we do a healing shamanic journey.  No one had any dramatic experiences that I recall; I had the impulse to spend my time bathing his skeleton with loving energy, which I did.  He’s still on this plane, blessing everyone, a walking miracle, with or without our help.

One of the most dramatic experiences happened when I’d done no ritual.  On the way back from Hawaii, just a day after my amazing experience with the dolphins in Kealekakua Bay, I sat next to a woman on the plane who said she was in terrible pain.  I asked if I could touch her shoulder, meaning to give it a gentle massage, but instead just laid my hand on the muscle to feel it first.  She turned to me in sudden, visible relief and said, “Are you a healer?”  I answered, with fear, “I don’t know.”

A few weeks later, I got over my fear and accepted an invitation to be trained and certified in a healing modality, but never practiced it.  It felt like a recipe, not intuitive.

New Moon sweat lodge rituals I participated in years ago were spontaneous and different each time, though with just enough ritual framework to keep everyone respectfully focused.  I loved those gatherings.

And once I invited friends to our house for a Full Moon celebration with a “Grand Cross” in the sky, supporting something that was happening for Asante and me:  we were splitting up.  We had already invited friends over when we realized the correlation between the sky signs that evening and our break-up, so we agreed to at least talk about it in the fire circle.  As the day drew near, a fun ritual idea bubbled up between us, and that evening, everyone surprised us by joining in, making announcements and commitments for all the things each person intended to release to make room in their lives for whatever was now most important.  It was a powerful evening, with tears, cheers, laughter, and major life visions announced.  Ritual can be wonderful when it happens spontaneously – at least, that seems best for me.

The last couple of weeks, I made a renewed commitment to my “shamanic” or “medicine practice,” but the commitment didn’t last.  In the last few days I’ve “quit” a few activities, and today I dropped all my “practice” too, and just sat.  Didn’t even light a candle.  Just sat and concentrated on my Self and my connection to spirit family and guides.  Then I did what I felt like in that moment:  read my journal and picked up some long-ignored Tarot cards – which gave me the most insightful direction I’ve received in a very long time.

Then I wrote down these words:

Personal Shamanism

(Mine [others invent your own]:  Go to the garden for grounding, healing, surrounding.  Reaffirm all spirit helpers.  Reaffirm Self on this Amazing Path, surrounded by Help.  Listen….)

Question:  What feels real to you, but you don’t do because you’ve been taught it’s “weird”?  That’s exactly what you should do.  Talk to yourself.  Massage yourself.  Treat yourself to time.  Listen to yourself.  Protect yourself.  Heal yourself.  Talk to plants and animals.  Listen to them.  Talk to your dearly departeds.  Talk to your ancestors.  Talk to your angels and spirit guides (decide whom you want to talk to).  Discern!  Be grateful.  Act.

This is my new, personal shamanism.  Sometimes I’ll pick up a rattle.  Often I’ll light a candle.  Always, I’ll be real and in the moment.

And sometimes ritual will flow through.


by Leave a comment

Three Days in Darkness

Of course, we all know, or we’ve all heard, that spiritual progress on this human plane is never really “done,” and so I think it’s the same with healing, although certain aspects of healing may be accomplished, we always have more, and we’ll certainly experience more that must be healed.

So I think I shouldn’t have been taken so low last week – I think I should have understood and taken it in stride – but I didn’t.  I thought I’d had enough, and I wanted to die.

On the third evening of three painful days, I lay on my bed and really tried to give up the ghost.  My heart had been in pain (in a vice, it seemed) for three days, and I’d been shown a print-out of my slow heart rate with an unhealthy delay between the beats of the first and second chambers.  My arms and jaw startled me now and then with their own pains throughout those days – classic heart attack symptoms I’ve had before (which I attribute to my life of mind control electroshocks and Tasering).

But after lying down, crying, sobbing, and giving up this life, but not dying, and my heart pain mysteriously gone, I got up, accepted my fate (to live), and wrote in my journal that I was pissed and not happy about it at all.

Even as I outlined my points of justification, I realized things that I could control.

1.  I don’t have enough help!

Well, I thought in response, you aren’t very consistent about asking for help. 

Point taken.

2.  I don’t have enough understanding!

Ditto answer.

Okay….

3.  I’m too messed with (my biggie, my Ace), which makes me too often too exhausted to do more than barely keep up, not a state worth continuing life for.  I never know when I’m going to wake with bruises, biopsy holes, or even Taser burns, all with incredible exhaustion which will zap all my energy and put everything in my life on hold for a week or two, making me look like a totally irresponsible person.  Not fair!

Oh, get off it!  You’ve known for a long time that nothing’s fair.  As for the attacks, you need to learn to stop them.  You need to rediscover your warrior part.  Yes, you’ve been trying, but maybe you haven’t been trying the right things, or the right timing, or something else, so life keeps on demanding this of you until you figure it out.  It’s the human condition, for where you are.  Get help, get creative, but figure it out.  Quit whining.  You know you’ve been strong in past lives and came into this world with a lot of wisdom, and yes, you’ve been “messed with,” as you say, mind controlled, but so has everyone, and even though yours might be a super-demanding version of it, it’s what you came here for.  You’re down right now, but you’ll get it.  That’s why we haven’t let you die yet.  You really do have the power to figure it out, even though you’re stumped now and angry (a cover for fear).  You’ll get over it.  And then you’ll get back to the Work.

Sigh.

And so I have.  And I have realized a couple of things that have kept me from my power:

First, I have been afraid to tell the truth about who I am because… I’m not sure, but I’m willing to bet I’ve been mind controlled to be ashamed about who I am, so I only allude to things most important to me, but usually only very subtly, and rarely.  Most of my days I’ve gone around pretending to be Every Woman, or an old-hippie version of Every Woman.  And I thought this had value, made my writing most accessible to my audience.  This is possibly true, but my writing has also been very limited, sorta of “lowest common denominator” (as I was trained to write as a journalist), and so it’s been least useful.

When I thought I was dying, I gave up “everything,” and I realized later that that also included what others think about me.  What a wonderful thing to finally give up!

It is infinitely more important for me to communicate the truth of who I am, to however small an audience, than to communicate a tepid, easy-to-accept version of me to the “masses.”

And that “safe” presentation is part of keeping me split – keeping the real me hidden (requiring splitting) while the “socially acceptable” part plays a role.  I didn’t realize I was failing so badly at simple Truth, but I was.  It reinforced my splittedness and made me forget my truth.

Second, because I wanted to be and offer something socially acceptable, I forgot what I am:  called to shamanic practice – as we call  it today.  My subconscious decision to hide has made me forget it myself, making me a very irresponsible practitioner, taking “days” off that turned into weeks and months.

I wasn’t afraid that people, at least those I cared about, wouldn’t understand or accept – as most seem to be animists at heart, so they should.  But I thought they would secretly ridicule or denounce me as either too stupid or unworthy, or as someone jumping on a bandwagon – and indeed, I myself have problems with others promoting it like the newest fad, putting it on business cards, etc.  I don’t want others to say about me what I’ve said about others!

Shamanic practice feels too sacred an avocation to speak of.  So when someone asks about one’s vocation, I haven’t known what to say; I kept it a secret, and together with other excuses, it became almost a secret to me.

But this is who I am:  I am one who sees the world in multiple dimensions and seeks (hopefully forever now more consistently) to strengthen my relationships with all my spirit help, and thereby continue my healing to the point where I will be more confident about helping others.

This all became clear only after I’d wallowed for three days in my death wish and gave up everything of this world.  When all was stripped away, I could see who I was and what is most important to me in this world.

It is:  to continue to learn personally about the other realms, develop skills in them, learn to communicate and navigate, learn to bring back information, and learn to help others – what we call shamanism or shamanic practice.  

On and off I’ve been living this life for decades, secretly.  I’ve participated in healings, and they’ve been life-changing for me and others.  I’ve received information from those on the other side.  I’ve gone there and come back.  I know my helpers.  I know my practice.

But there is so much more I need to learn.  And there’s nothing more in this world that I want to do, other than create the setting around me to facilitate this, and then use it to help myself and others.

Three days believing I was dying – it was a difficult, but clarifying time, for which I am grateful.  I now know (again) what is most important to me.  Sometimes we forget.  (The world wants us to forget.)  And sometimes only great pain can help us remember.

Now, I’m happily back in contact – wait, I forgot to confess one more failure.  I subconsciously, for decades, have attributed to my spirit help one characteristic of my parents: that they would love me more the more silent I was and the less I needed them, the less I asked for.  One of my shamanic teachers helped me recognize this ten years ago, but I “forgot”!

So now I’ve remembered and I’ve been spending lots of daily time with my help, asking for whatever I need, and making great progress for just a week.  I have a half-dozen more essays in my head to write, some designing I’ve envisioned, some practices to practice.

And I believe we can actually get through this, this crazy world in which Carlos Castaneda’s mentor Don Juan Matus said we need to “change the course of sorcery.”  The current sorcery is mind control, and we need to help change that, especially those of us who can see it so well.  This is our world too.  We have a role to play.