There are some things I have always struggled with. Insecurity and self doubt. Feeling trapped by inhibition. Stage fright. Asking for help. There are plenty more. But all of these are tied together some for me. They're all things I am exploring and working on together.
Delving into shamanism touches on these things. In my insecurty and self doubt I've blocked my own path down this road ever since rounding the metaphorical corner in the motorhome and seeing the starting point of the path. But now I'm walking it. Footsteps short and slow, but a start.
Wen we went to the drum making event I made one large and loud. I painted Wolf on it in the center. No more could I drum quietly at drum circle and avoid notice. Even the act of painting it was a committed step forward. It would not be just another anonymous drum. It would stand out and not hide. People might be more likely to ask questions when they saw it. There would be no easy avoiding that.
Amy's mom died almost thirteen years ago. There was no formal funeral or ceremony. Mari wanted a pizza party as a not-quite wake. Amy got left in charge of it. Everything was a chaotic rush. There wasn't time then for mourning, let alone closure of any kind.
Almost thirteen years and Amy hadn't had the chance to let go. Just recently we saw a reason and a chance to do just that, and we seized it.
Except for in the motorhome, we've had Mari's ashes with us in the jar Amy made. Finally Amy was ready to spread them and let go and finally say goodbye. She asked me to put together a little ceremony.
We knew it was going to need a little more help, which Michael Seuss of Drumming For Peace happily provided when I asked him.
We got there and found the right spot, a nice big oak tree. I was nervous as hell. It was a small audience, but it was such an important thing. Shamans are healers, and Amy and Mari both needed healing. So I took a deep breath. I spoke loudly into the cold air of the falling wintery night. I spoke while drumming, something I had never done before. I had worried about whether I'd really be able to do both at once.
The words came less easily than I had hoped. But I did know them, and they came. There was more punctuation than strictly necesseary. Periods. In place of commas. But my voice did not shake. Or falter. I spoke clearly. With conviction. And intent. I pushed through nervousness and self doubt. Through inhibition and stage fright. And it worked.
I knew Amy needed to be smudged while spreading the ashes. It was a releasing act, letting the rest of Mari's energy out, and the smudging was about letting positive, healing energy fill her back up. I also knew I needed to drum and do some other work at the same time, so that was why I had asked Micheal to do the smudging for me.
The ashes went around the tree more than once. They ended up drawing overlaid lines that reminded me of the puzzle rings Mari and Amy had enjoyed together. An extra little reminder, perhaps, that we're all connected--we are all intertwined.
Posted by fictionman at December 15, 2007 11:07 PM | TrackBack (0)