My health and my spiritual studies compete for my time. I have had the message a few times now, via my tarot and runes, that I am out of balance and my connection won’t progress/deepen until my health is back in balance. Since working at my practice, mainly yoga every morning, I’ve been starting to hear things – get messages – like when I’m half asleep or daydreaming – or during yoga or even just during my daily activities. Regarding my heath I have a feeling like there is something I’m just not getting. If all physical ailments begin in the energy body, or energetically, then we should be able to heal ourselves on that level if we find where that blockage is. I’ve been working on this – as well as making changes in the physical plane, like diet and yoga – but I feel like I keep bumping up against an unknown thing – something that is blocking me, or something going on in my body that I am unaware of. I’m missing something.
Loving this message today! And Paolo has quite a voice! Inspiring me to sing even more.
This post is a landing page for the practices and concepts that I am being taught in the 9 Pillars tradition – overlain with my existing daily and weekly practices from the Medicine Wheel and the new practices I’m learning from my teacher in British native shamanism. I probably won’t do all of these every day just due to time constraints but I’m thinking they can be somewhat alternated. Out of respect for my teachers, I won’t give a detailed explanation of everything.
For the most part a lot of it can be done when meditating. I do these during my morning yoga sessions. That trinity, yoga, breath-work and visualization is creating a foundation for my path. Meditation hasn’t worked its way in there yet.
This is a school assignment – my first final. The journey is to Midgard, to ask for a ‘galdrar’ or magical song, and our medicine pouch (pungr) – what it looks like and what should go in it. Also we are to locate our first tools – a staff, precious stones, tin buttons and a touchwood – which is exactly how it sounds – a piece of wood worn to touch and ground. All of these items are in the lore as what the volva (seidr practitioner) wore.
Today outside your prison I stand
and rattle my walking stick: Prisoners, listen;
you have relatives outside.
And there are thousands of ways to escape.
Years ago I bent my skill to keep my cell locked,
had chains smuggled to me in pies,
and shouted my plans to jailers;
but always new plans occured to me,
or the new heavy locks bent hinges off,
or some stupid jailer would forget
and leave the keys.
Inside, I dreamed of constellations—
those feeding creatures outlined by stars,
their skeletons a darkness between jewels,
heroes that exist only where they are not.
Thus freedom always came nibbling my thought,
just as—often, in light, on the open hills—
you can pass an antelope and not know
and look back, and then—even before you see—
there is something wrong about the grass.
And then you see.
That’s the way everything in the world is waiting.
Now—these few more words, and then I’m
gone: Tell everyone just to remember
their names, and remind others, later,
when we find each other.
Tell the little ones to cry and then go to sleep,
curled up where they can.
And if any of us get lost, if any of us cannot come all the way—
remember: there will come a time when all we have said
and all we have hoped will be all right.
There will be that form in the grass.
– William Stafford
There is a country to cross you will
find in the corner of your eye, in
the quick slip of your foot–air far
down, a snap that might have caught.
And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing
voice that finds its way by being
afraid. That country is there, for us,
carried as it is crossed. What you fear
will not go away: it will take you into
yourself and bless you and keep you.
That’s the world, and we all live there.
– William Stafford
This weekend I had a stomach flu pretty bad. I ended up on my bed with my head in a bowl for several hours. There was a point when I started to sob into the bowl and the sobbing went on and on.
Sobbing into the bowl.
I didn’t really have a reason for it, other than feeling sick and tired of being sick all the time – but that was more like the tear-jerker – the sobbing that went on and on wasn’t about anything – it was more like a release.
I was pondering my illness for a time, and how I seem to get better and then get worse again, and feeling like even though I’ve done a lot of work around it, I can’t help feeling like I’m missing something. This lead me to think back to a book a read last year by Carolyne Myss, Anatomy of the Spirit.
I started this blog in 2012, with the intention of writing at least once a month. I see looking back that I’ve done at least that for the most part and I’m proud of that. For someone who’s barky follow-through never equals the bite of inspiration, this is a feat worth noting. Truth be told, the blog has kept me focused – on what? More that anything it’s been a heavy stone to tie myself to in the middle of the torrential creative stream. It’s given me juice.
My path has changed much over the years. I have changed. So much so that I’ve considered taking this blog down and starting something new – maybe something with more of a focus on helping others and passing on information and less of a focus on my personal psycho-spiritual trails and tribs. But in the end I’ve always decided to keep going here and let the blog evolve with me wherever I may go.
I started out in 2012 wishing for a miracle – that the world as I knew it would not be destroyed by planet x, an oncoming comet or the tsunamis I saw in my dreams. I went to my altar in earnest all that year. In the blog I told a lot of stories that I wanted to get out. Explanations, verifications and experiences I have had and of course, discussing one of the main reasons for this blog, pondering the question, ‘what are the gods?’.
I was generally steeped in fear and flight, ready to grab my new baby and run to the farthest cave I could get to up in the mountains. Or, find an answer – THE answer to our collective salvation – this, I had come to believe, was in communing with the earth.
When nothing happened at the end of the world, I relaxed a little bit – just a little, and went deeper into my prayers and spiritual praxis. I stared meditating and practicing with journey-work. I had an unexpected breakthrough at a ceremony one weekend, that caused such a discernible shift inside of me that I could not go back to where I had been. This started me on the path to shamanism.