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  • Devouring my Heart (A Shamanic Journey)

    I enter the drumming, flail around a little, walk and then fly to the meadow by the waterfall. I sit on the large flat rock by the pool, and Warren comes with a single hummingbird. I stand to greet them. They each take human forms and embrace me. Their human forms are full of light, their embraces are full of love and healing energy.

    The grandmothers come out of the cave and lay me on the stone, which is similar to the alter in the cave, but lower and more amorphous in shape. They lay their hands on me. Warren stands at my head, the hummer at my heart, the grandmothers at my feet and sides, and they do an intense Reiki-like hands on healing. The sun, too, shines on my face and heals me. Then, they slip me into the pool and cleanse me, stand me under the waterfall and cleanse me.

    I stand like a tree, arms outstretched, and do the healing-transformer meditation, with the grandmothers, Warren, and Hummer standing around me giving me supportive energy. I pull in simultaneously earth energy and sky energy.

    These whirl inside me like small (but somehow not small) galaxies, throwing off healing energy of various colors as it moves up from the earth and down from the sky through the chakras. The whirling inner galaxies are a new variant on this meditation, and seem related to the healing disc from earlier. As the galaxies whirl, they clears energetic paths between the chakras, between head and heart, between heart and root chakra, between head, heart and sacral chakra, and so on. Hummer, especially, assisted by all the healers, moves the whirling healing energy galaxies through the chakras.

    As I breathe in, earth energy rises through my feet toward my heart and through my crown Chakra toward my heart, healing as it goes, forming the whirling galaxy, which intensifies, heals, joins at center, at the heart chakra, splits, and moves in opposite directions do that the sky energy moves toward earth and the earth energy moves toward sky, whirling and healing the chakras.

    As I breathe out, the whirling galaxies are transformed and ramped up a notch, by the intensity of the input energy from my spirit guides. They move through me, healing as they go, and form fountains of energy that move out through my fingertips and the palms of my hands and through my crown chakra and down and out through the souls of my feet through earth and sky, healing the earth, and all the earth beings and circling back through me as I breathe in again. The lines formed by the movement of this radiant energy look like the patterns formed by magnets in iron filings. They reach our to encompass all beings.

    As I do this meditation, I am cleansed, healed, energized and filled with joy, and I assist in cleansing, healing, energizing and en-joy-ifying the earth and all beings, with the assistance of my spirit guides.

    When I ask, what about the people who need their trials for their growth, he says, the healing energy is available to those who on their paths are ready for it and can accept and use it. It is available to any being who will be assisted by it and to spirit guides who know how and where to incorporate it. Warren tells me that this newer, more advanced form of this meditation he has just taught me is a form of tonga.

    Now I am ready to journey-journey (Since I am already journeying.) I turn to Warren and ask to be shown the next step. He asks do I remember what we had thought the next step was last time we talked, and I feel suddenly stupid, because I do not remember. I remember the conversation, but not what we decided.

    While I am puzzling over this, Warren, in his human form, reaches into my ethereal chest, takes my ethereal heart and eats it.

    This is shocking and puzzling, but does not hurt. I think that shamanic healings often include deaths and strange occurrences. It is OK. Then I begin to cry. I need my heart.

    Warren in his warthog form, lunges into my ethereal chest and again eats my heart.

    I stop crying. I realize that if he has eaten my heart a second time, it must still be there. I still feel sad, and puzzled.

    Warren lunges in a third time, taking my heart (which obviously still there and feeling very heavy, almost painful) in his teeth. He transforms back to his human form, grows to the size of Thor (huge), and holding my heart gently in his hands, he blows it up like balloon. It gets bigger and bigger, lighter and lighter, and shines like a pink moon. I keep thinking it will burst, but that even if it does, it will be OK. When my heart is as big as the atmosphere surrounding the earth, and somehow as big as the universe, Warren puts it back in my chest and it fits. It fits but it doesn’t fit. It is both within me and huge.

    I am crying and crying and crying, now, “real” tears running down my “real” cheeks. Warren has made my heart big enough to hold the world and the universe. Not just the people, but all beings, the birds, the floating spiders, the insects, the fish. I feel both joy and deep rending grief. I want it to be real and lasting.

    I tell Warren that I am afraid my heart will contract again, and that my mind can’t encompass all this except during journeys and meditations. In my normal waking life, I can’t hold it all in my mind.

    Warren blows up my mind, too. I see starving children and people making love, I see beggars and people missing limbs and babies learning to walk. I see such a rush of images that I can’t possibly recount them all, rivers running, tides coming in Tsunamis, terrible war images, laughing children, flocks of birds pouring through the air. They all merge into white light, and a great humming sound like a billion hummers. And then I am back and I know I can both hold it all and not hold it all.

    My left eye shrinks into darkness like a black hole, my right eye expands into light and nothingness. Warren kisses me in the center of my forehead, just above my eyebrows, and my third eye blinks open and stares into the Yin-yang incoming light and dark energy. The third eye sees the light and dark as bundles of individual fibers, and as a great wash of light and dark. The darkness sings with a deep note, the light with a high note and the two resonate.

    I remember Rick Cleverly. I ask Warren if I need to give him back anything or take anything back from him. Rick was my guide through the bardos. I feel as if instead of taking anything back or giving anything back, I want to forge a deeper connection to him. I want to gather him to me. Warren says that for now, he, Warren, will be my Rick Cleverly. He shows me string, golden and shining, which becomes a rope, which becomes a cable. The cable is made of fibers of light, which are stronger than fishing line. Together, it is very strong. He places it at my belly button and it becomes like an umbilical. He attaches it to his womb. It becomes invisible, but I can feel it there. I can feel the energy pulsing through it. He places his hands on it, telling me he can pull me back from anywhere if I get lost.

    I remember being lost and begin to cry. Two sets of images surge into my mind, one of being lost in the great darkness with only a single gossamer strand of light and life left in the entire universe from which to rebuild the world, but it could not be grasped, or it world break, shrivel and die. This image is immediately followed by images of wandering lost in the rain in the streets of Detroit after midnight the night before last. The first occurred in the ethereal (but somehow very real world—the experience was utterly terrifying) and the second in the “real” phenomenal world.

    I ask Warren if he or someone is taking Keith into the Shamanic mysteries. He smiles and says I am. I say Keith may not thank me for that. But that trip, Warren says, has opened a door for him, if he wants to walk through. I feel doubtful. Keith is such a skeptic, I’m not sure he can suspend disbelief.

    I ask Warren why the ethereal has come into the phenomenal like that, and he says it is always the day before, if not the day of. I know instantly what he means. Disaster and death stand just outside the door. Panting. They have their hands on the knobs. We need to be psychically prepared.

    Did we do ok? I ask. Yes and no, he answers. The metta meditations were well-used, he says. Keith is a stoic.

    Do we have other business now? I ask.

    This is enough for now. There will be more. He hugs me, lifts me, lays me on the stone, and the grandmothers and hummers gather around for a final healing. I absorb their love with joy and peace.

    My heart feels large and happy. I say to Warren, I hope my physical phenomenal heart isn’t “enlarged” in a bad ways so that I will have a heart attack, and he says, if your ethereal heart is large, your physical body and heart can shrink to a healthy size. I say, well, I hope that happens, because so far, none of our healings have made me lose any weight. He just smiles enigmatically, kisses me on the cheek and disappears.

    Friday, October 19, 2012, 6:30 to 8:15 AM
    Image; painting by me, quite hastily, I admit. Warren the Warthog looks a little like Pan here, playing the flute of my heart.
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