Shaman's Death

I’ve realized my uncertainty, the strange shift in my being,

the darkness and beauty I’ve witnessed. 

Lost in suffering through the floating haze,

In the blur, I sensed the sagacious gaze of eyes. 

Death, in no describable form, watching, counting time.

I comprehend this in the aftermath of my hospital visit last week.  The strangeness and indescribability of what was happening in my body and my being; the floating, the haze, the hole I had fallen in.  There was some energy present, in retrospect; I realized was in the uncertainty of living.  To will through the space of wanting to drift eternally, to leave the pain, requires resources I don’t really know where to find.  Somehow they show up and I manage to reach for them.  Thankfully I am blessed with an extensive family of angels in form.  From Seattle landed my brother from another mother, Jeff, to hoist a rope into my depths and pull me out.  To be by my bedside and fill our kitchen with food and the smell of savory.  The tears on his departure visit me again as I write this.  And he was gone, the weekend I rested and continued my recovery through the week.  The need for personal retreat pushed me to plan and pack.  And off to heal.

By departure it had hit again.  What are these strange sensations in my body?  There are so many possible causes, trying to understand is unreasonable.  I begin to float in some out-of-body form, watching myself moving through the motions.  I arrive at the Wiesbaden in Ouray and will my way from check-in, to room, to the pool.  The melting begins submerged in the Lorelei pool, my private oasis, blessed with the name of my sister.  There is extra love here, and history.  I share the healing waters of the ancestors and chiefs.  Before bed I venture to the cave, Earth’s womb, and tone with her resonance.  As I lay in bed floating above my body, feeling it’s throbbing pulse, pressure pouncing from one organ to another, moving marrow and space where there is solid, I wonder.  I truly wonder if it will all shut down overnight. 

From the cave flies Bat and the story of the Shaman’s Death.  The ritualistic initiation to breakdown the notions of personal identity, of self, and reemerge ego-less, reborn to become your future.  I wake, I am reborn from the dark night.  The light shines bright that day and I soak it up, creativity begins to flow.  I have turned a corner, there is relief, that which was clutching is losing its grip.  I turn to the elements, soak in the fire water, breathe the air, hug the stone and tell it I’m grateful.  I burn sage, laugh and play, recollect my times of past.  I am finding ground and I am someone else…         

And here is the creative outcome from the rest of my personal retreat.  A video production to calm the concerned.  A metaphorical representation of being taken to the next level.  A celebration and a sharing of ceremony.