The Shaman Will See You Now.

PHOTO CREDIT: "Lush Rain Forest" by porbital

Being a novice Shaman, tonight, I am enjoying a show about Amazonian healing methods. I was called to serve by the spirit energy that comes with surviving a severe medical condition. It is said that shamans are called by one of two ways: by your grandparent or parent, or from surviving a severe illness, which gave you access to the vision-realm. I have been both blessed and cursed to carry, "the fire" within myself. Modern medicine would call it "schizoaffective disorder," but in most earth traditions, being able to straddle that mental netherworld is an asset to the Shaman.

It is through my visions or "hallucinations" that I am able to transcend the confines of the mind and intuit deeper understanding. I walk through this world with one foot in "Earth-realm" and another foot in the "Greater Consciousness." When I am most in-tune between those dimensions, I literally see what's happening in my earthy present moment from one eye, and a world of pure transcendence from the other. The vision realm sends me family relatives who have died and now reside in another dimension of consciousness to guide me through lucid dream travels.

The other night, I spoke with my recently deceased uncle in a dream following a week of mental strain. This often happens before a vision, I'll get bad headaches and successive nights before the vision, a purge of bad dreams. It's as though the Shaman is cleansing themselves of all the heavy energy before making contact, so that the connection is strong to allow the best transfer of information. In that dream, my uncle told me that my great-great-grandfather also had the "fire" (schizoaffective) and his energy wanted to tell me that he understands the hardship of the bad effects that come with the "fire" but that it is so worth having. And, to keep courage not to fully cross over into the vision realm before it's time (death).

My grandmother who died has visited me twice in lucid dream travels. Once, directly following her passing. She was (and always will be) my hero in many ways and we were very alike in our energies. So, I was not the least bit shocked when I awoke early one morning around 6a.m. and knew that someone in the family had died. Then, as if on cue, the phone rang. "Hello?" It was my mom, "Grandma just died." I replied, "I know, I just was woken up by her energy as it fluttered off." After about a week following the funeral, I had a lucid dream vision where I spoke with her. It was in a classy, F. Scott Fitzgerald, roaring '20s style hotel, which was a great selection on her part since she was a flapper. I remember being aware I was "dreaming" while floating in the elevator heading up to her apartment.

I realized that I could go up or down with the elevator simply by thinking the direction!! So, "whoosh" I sped up to her floor, high atop this building. I knew it was very high in altitude because I could see clouds passing by the window at the end of the hallway. I continued to float down the hallway toward her room and instinctively knew which door opened to her apartment. I motioned my hand at the door and it glided open, and naturally, I floated smoothly into this suite that looked as though it was forever floating in the dimension of '20s America. I first saw the back of her head in the bob style of her younger pictures, and a cloud of cigarette smoke billowing forth. She smoked for 60 years but died of old age at 94!! As I rounded the couch and gazed upon her face, she looked happier than I'd ever seen her. She was glowing and told me not to worry about her dying but that she'd always be in my visions. I have relied upon her spirit many times to endure the side effects of "mental illness."

I had another dream of her later at the shore of a lake where she was wearing a red cloak and we discussed the importance of love and we shared the beauty of the water around us. How do I know that these dreams are different than any other? Firstly, when I normally dream I don't know that I am dreaming. I'm buried in the context of the dream, which usually is a big murky and sometimes random. But when I have my "visions" I am aware that I am "dreaming." And the lighting is always different in them. It's brighter but not painfully so, and there is always this rainbow sparkling aura or crown of light around nearly every little pixel. The essence of them are crisper and clearer in intensity. In those dreams, I always remark to myself, how different the feeling is from my other dreams.

I know and acknowledge a completely different sensation and understanding when I'm having a "hallucination" versus a "vision." I have them both and they are very distinguishable. When I hallucinate, there isn't a purpose behind them except to flash random sounds or visuals in my vision. However, with a vision, there is always a specific message to be heard. Usually the visions erupt out of a dream in progress. I have a regular dream and then it's from that regular dream where I feel like I open a door out of the dream, while asleep, and enter a whole other dimension where time is occurring just as equally as it is in earth time!!

Anyway, I'll wrap this one up. While watching this shamanic show, the Amazonian priest told of how the plants teach them what powers they have to heal. He uses a machete to make a small cut to a certain tree, and tastes the milk inside it's roots. He says that is how the plants give them insight into their healing properties for the Shaman must try all these medicines before giving them out to others. That is why a Shaman will not leave you alone during a hallucinogenic experience. They walk through the vision with you, every step of the way. That is when their experience with the vision realm comes into value -- to guide you in a realm that can often be disorienting if one isn't use to navigating in a non-earth realm.

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Bald Eagle Decapitated in Louisiana.

By Mark Morgenstein, CNN

(CNN) -- A brutal, fatal case of suspected cruelty to animals is under investigation in Louisiana, the state's wildlife department said in a press release Tuesday. Agents from the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries found a beheaded bald eagle Sunday in a drainage ditch in Franklin Parish, in the northeastern part of the state, according to the release.

Green Man: Every time an animal dies in such a senseless and cruel manner, my heart literally aches. But, to see our national animal and the symbol of freedom, so disrespected is nearly more than I can bear. Especially since raptors are some of my favorite animals. The Red-Tail Hawk is my main animal guide and I'm lucky to see them quite frequently here in Colorado. I often find I see them when I need a message of hope or strength.

They also have been known to visit me in times of trouble. Once, my wife, some friends and I were going to Las Vegas to party and otherwise debauch ourselves when the plane we were about to leave on was delayed. It turns out that a Red Tail hawk had been sucked into one of the plane engines on the plane's previous flight. I had a sinking feeling that was a bad sign for things to come. As it turns out, I ended up taking way to much ecstasy in Vegas and nearly blacked-out. When I came to, the next day, I found myself in the midst of a mental breakdown.

The over-dose of drugs flared up my mental illness and I literally said less than a dozen words for the next three days as I followed my wife and friends around Vegas like a lost puppy dog. I was so out of it that at one point I asked my wife if I had lost my sanity. I was terrified because I couldn't hold a train of thought for longer than about 2 minutes before forgetting. I couldn't activate my brain to analyze my emotions or the situation I was in to return to a sense of normalcy. The flight home was surreal where I thought everyone on-board was talking about me and every time I'd hear people laugh I assumed they were laughing at me. I didn't get things back under control until I got back to the house and could take my medications.

Upon contemplating at home about the trip, I saw the death of that hawk as a warning to me of things to come if I kept on that course. I saw it too as a sign to stop the heavy drug use, which I did. Now, I just stick to the natural stuff--marijuana, which actually helps my mental illness. That was also a time when I wasn't fully diagnosed yet and wasn't taking adequate amounts of medication in the first place. I was finally and accurately diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder not long after the Vegas incident, and have since improved though I am unable to work because of the disorder. Mental illness runs in my family; well, it practically gallops in the family, so I knew I was probably going to have some issues at some point.

Ecstasy is a drug that unlocks a lot of spirituality and understanding of the deeper realities of life. However, it should be used sparingly, and not multiple times through-out the night with alcohol, as I did. I believe that most people (adults) should try it at least once but from an attitude of spiritual awakening, respect and with a guide to help you stay safe. It's good to have someone to remind you to drink water through-out the high because it's easy to get dehydrated and over-heated, which was my other problem. The alcohol didn't help that aspect either. But, don't drink too much water either because that can be problematic, as well. I found the sweet spot to be a tall glass about every hour. I'd have someone set their watch to go off every hour to keep everyone aware.

But, I digress. Animals can be such amazing blessings to our lives if we let them be but all too often we see them as objects to use any way we see fit. So, to see an animal not only senselessly killed but tortured on top of that just makes me want to vomit. It makes me very disappointed in my fellow humans.

~The Green Man has Spoken~

The Green Man's Curse Part III--The Conclusion.

(Animist fetish market in Togo, West Africa)

Our lungs were still burning with rage from running like two gazelle sprinting for their lives when the power in our house briefly flickered it's last breaths before giving into a dark death. We stumbled outside onto the balcony like kids fleeing a shadow in the middle of the night. Upon reaching the landing we saw the street lamp barely glowing while in the distance this high pitched whine began to approach. It sounded like the village was about to be invaded by a swarm of militant bees. Then out of the night engulfed street, coming from the direction of the cemetery a group of about 10 men on mopeds exploded into our field of vision headed toward the intersection just off the far right corner of our balcony. Immediately they drove around the intersection in a circle of mechanical choreography, kicking up the silence of the night with each crank of their hand shifters.

One of them was carrying a clay pot on his lap and smashed it in the middle of the abandoned intersection, and with that they sped off as fast as they appeared. We all stood in shock trying to make sense of the earthquake of events that had shaken up our night. The silence built into an awkward, uncomfortable tension when one of the missionaries that was already home before we arrived out of the breath stated, "Witchcraft." Chills washed over me and then a split second flashed by and the lights jumped back to life as if by command from the utterance of the word, "witchcraft." The pots were nothing new to our lives as missionaries because people left them all over villages as they were often used as vessels to "pour out sickness" into to cure ill or "cursed" people. They are usually filled with twigs, herbs, sometimes animal blood and often the urine of the person cursed or ill with a disease. This was symbolic of flushing the malady out of your body.

Broken pots in a lot of African Animism also symbolize death as a complete one is literally the holder of life as it often contains sustaining water. They also symbolize someone attempting to break down a social relationship, as a full pot constitutes harmony and welcoming. When one welcomes another to a village they are often brought a new clay pot full of food. A broken pot is also a symbol of banishment and social separation from society. A broken pot in other words is a bad sign. And here were these men smashing one full of a dark liquid and all kinds of plant material right in front of our house. Clearly some of the hatred toward us stemmed from being Christian missionaries in a village (Yamoussoukro) which is very proud of it's animist beliefs and saw us a threat. Now that I'm long past being a missionary and a Christian in general I can't say that I blame them. Christians have brought a lot of misery to Africa.

So, given that status (and being a white Christian on top of it) there were plenty of people who could have had the reason to curse my fortunes and future. I don't know if I believe in curses but after I came home from my two years in Africa my life fell apart, and I haven't been the same since. I have also had the worst luck where before Africa I had great luck. I don't have the time or room to describe all the incidents but suffice to say that if it could go wrong with me it has or will. It's not just me--my wife knows about the "dark, gray, cloud" that follow me and rains down upon me horrible luck. So, do my friends and family who can't believe how many things go wrong in my life--both in little and big ways. The biggest examples being having to drop out of the Master's degree program in African history, (ironically) and being diagnosed with the severe mental illness of Schizoaffective disorder.

Is it a coincidence then that I faced many smashed pots near the many places I lived at in Africa, and that ever since I've been home I've felt alienated from the society around me? In every way nearly I'm an outcast from my society since returning home. I have a mental illness, which causes people to shun me. I am a Buddhist with Pagan beliefs, which is frowned upon by my Christian dominated society. I am bisexual, which again is frowned upon by my society. Politically I am a liberal, which isn't a majority view in my society. All of this isn't by choice it's just labels that apply to how my personality expresses itself and yet they are all minority views it seems. I don't like interacting with people anymore because I somehow always get unwanted attention, or there's always a complication with whatever business I'm trying to accomplish. I get manic, anxious and irritable around too much noise and yet it seems like noise flocks around me as if by spell. Just now as I'm trying to explain why I feel cursed after my time in Africa the lawn mowing company showed up to crank on their loud machines to conveniently block my concentration. They usually don't come on this day or this late.

So, I ask you is all this a curse or coincidence? And if it is a curse, what dear Pagans do you suggest I do to lift it or at least cleanse my energy. I just want the chaos to ease up. There's only so many problems a person can face in a ten year span--and it shows no sign of slowing down!! I feel stalked by everyone as if I'm being watched and whenever I try to do something beneficial for me I am intercepted by someone who thwarts by plans. Maybe not even knowingly but it's happened so many times that I'm really starting to wonder about this curse stuff. And I'm really starting to wonder if somehow the curse could be using others as the vehicle to thwart my plants. Another thing to consider is that I was given a small statue of a traditional Ivorian hunter before I left--is it possible that's where the bad energy is coming from? It's hard to believe though since it was given to me by a "friend?"

~The Green Man has Spoken~