Modern Western culture has delved so far into the "scientific" mindset that it has dried up much of the mystical ocean of its own heritage. We live in a desert of truly meaningful ceremonial tradition, a desert of spiritualty repressed and held back and away by a sea wall of cold logic, cynicism, and ridicule of the mystical.
This is not to say that science isn't valid, necessary, or valuable. Clearly it is, as the marvels of modern life and its great acheivements daily testify to.
However, a total immersion in the scientific system with no respect for or preservation of our rich heritage of mysticism robs us of vital psycho-social tools and a deeper connection to the world and universe around us.
Somehow, we must build bridges between these two very human ways of being, and bring them into harmony with each other.
Clearly the dam has spouted many leaks and cracks. Our harmony with all that is has gone out of balance, and we need to find that balance before we face cataclysms both physical and spiritual.
The Universe is speaking to us on all channels, and we need to hear it.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Monday, December 28, 2009
My "Spiritual Day"
It's funny, but I find myself in great need of a couple of hours a week of quiet time by myself. It is very difficult to have any clear reflection or meditation in the constant "demand field" of others' presence and the exhausted fog of shift work.
The one place I seem to find it is when I slip away to the Humidor on the weekend for a couple of hours with a fine cigar and coffee. I guess these are my sacred plants.
This is the time when I can read Sacred Hoop, The Mist-Filled Path, Shaman UK, or Poet-Kitty's Shamanism/Enlightenment blog in peace, un-distracted.
I don't know how anyone can have an honest understanding of themselves or the universe around them without at least a minimum of private time, especially time rested, awake, alert, and un-stressed.
I am grateful for this time.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
The one place I seem to find it is when I slip away to the Humidor on the weekend for a couple of hours with a fine cigar and coffee. I guess these are my sacred plants.
This is the time when I can read Sacred Hoop, The Mist-Filled Path, Shaman UK, or Poet-Kitty's Shamanism/Enlightenment blog in peace, un-distracted.
I don't know how anyone can have an honest understanding of themselves or the universe around them without at least a minimum of private time, especially time rested, awake, alert, and un-stressed.
I am grateful for this time.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Honoring The Ancestors At The Holidays...
...so often in the hurry of preparations, parties, and family, we forget those who have gone on until we're there in the moment - and they aren't. Even though they have crossed over into Spirit, our love flows to them, and theirs back to us. Perhaps it's a good time to stop by one of the "thin places" and whisper their names.
Whatever the reason, I was guided to stop by this place, and to write this post, now at this time. Perhaps it's a way of keeping a thin place close to hand, so that I can call on them for guidance and send them my love when the times are needful of it.
Thank you for reading, and a blessed new year to you - and to those who wait on the Other Side for us, out in the swirling snows and mist.
Dan
Whatever the reason, I was guided to stop by this place, and to write this post, now at this time. Perhaps it's a way of keeping a thin place close to hand, so that I can call on them for guidance and send them my love when the times are needful of it.
Thank you for reading, and a blessed new year to you - and to those who wait on the Other Side for us, out in the swirling snows and mist.
Dan
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
An Interesting Thing With The Poetry...
...it's almost like I'm either calling things to be, or feeling things that are coming yet.
I wrote the post about seedlings in the spirit of saving the planet, and there came to me the story of the most massive effort in human history to make the planet better, the very next day.
I've been writing about snow and mist the past week or two, it's been snowing and misting all over the place.
This is a fascinating state of mind to be in, writing the poems. No small wonder the Druids revered it so.
There is something much deeper than mere word play going on.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
I wrote the post about seedlings in the spirit of saving the planet, and there came to me the story of the most massive effort in human history to make the planet better, the very next day.
I've been writing about snow and mist the past week or two, it's been snowing and misting all over the place.
This is a fascinating state of mind to be in, writing the poems. No small wonder the Druids revered it so.
There is something much deeper than mere word play going on.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
New Growth From The Bottom-Up - The Most Massive Human Mission Ever Attempted Goes Un-Recognized
There is something wonderful stirring in the collective Soul of Humanity - and it is gathering power every day. It is tenuous and nebulous like mist, like a very thin mist nearly invisible, yet it is extremely pervasive, the largest movement in Human history, and yet it is leaderless, free of direct organization. Its form is un-paralelled and unknown in all past Human endeavors - there is no name for it yet. Still, when the mist condenses, it becomes fog, and changes our view of the world. If it condenses further, it becomes rain, and changes our world. In time, rivers flow, oceans form, and the world is alive again. Like a forest of cloud seeds, this Spirit is arising in Humanity, and make no mistake, it will prevail in time.
http://www.takepart.com/news/2009/12/14/paul-hawken-the-solutions-we-need-now-from-ode-magazine
I stand amazed.
Dan
http://www.takepart.com/news/2009/12/14/paul-hawken-the-solutions-we-need-now-from-ode-magazine
I stand amazed.
Dan
Monday, December 21, 2009
Seeds And Seedlings...
For days now, the Universe has been throwing references in my path to seeds and seedlings.
In the movie Avatar, seeds play a role both major and overt, and also major and barely consciously recognized.
In a recent post on Facebook from my niece, a fellow Poet.
In an article in a past issue in Sacred Hoop magazine I just read, seeds regrow all life on Earth after a global blaze burns everything.
In a post on another shamanic blog, seeds are spoken of.
I myself have been throwing seeds from all my potted plants and Halloween gourds, maize, and pumpkins in the vacant lot where a building was torn down in Chicago where weeds and grasses are regrowing in seemingly dead brick dustn blown in as seeds on the wind.
Perhaps we all need to throw seeds behind the tracks of buldozers.
Frank MacEowen speaks of an ancient Celtic symbol, where new branches and leaves grow green from the stump of an ancient Oak that was cut down and thought dead, giving the hope of new Oak seeds to be scattered on the land. (From his book, The Mist-Filled Path)
It seems to me that as a global society, we need to embrace the wisdom of seeds, both literally and metaphorically.
If you see a seemingly dead lot vacated in the urban retraction that mirrors our economic contraction, throw a handful of seeds on it every time you pass by. Any living growth is better than sterile dust blowing out to sea.
Plant mangroves on the fading shores of Fiji and Tuvalu.
If living things are cut down, throw seeds all behind the bulldozers.
Perhaps something living will grow.
Our global culture has a new tree, this Internet. Now the leaves rustling in the winds hear each other, and can cast seeds knowingly.
Knowledge and communication and love are like seeds, who knows where the winds will carry them, or where they might grow?
All they need is common ground. So there it is, speak across the vine of the world. Literally and figuratively, cast seeds at every patch of bare Earth.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
In the movie Avatar, seeds play a role both major and overt, and also major and barely consciously recognized.
In a recent post on Facebook from my niece, a fellow Poet.
In an article in a past issue in Sacred Hoop magazine I just read, seeds regrow all life on Earth after a global blaze burns everything.
In a post on another shamanic blog, seeds are spoken of.
I myself have been throwing seeds from all my potted plants and Halloween gourds, maize, and pumpkins in the vacant lot where a building was torn down in Chicago where weeds and grasses are regrowing in seemingly dead brick dustn blown in as seeds on the wind.
Perhaps we all need to throw seeds behind the tracks of buldozers.
Frank MacEowen speaks of an ancient Celtic symbol, where new branches and leaves grow green from the stump of an ancient Oak that was cut down and thought dead, giving the hope of new Oak seeds to be scattered on the land. (From his book, The Mist-Filled Path)
It seems to me that as a global society, we need to embrace the wisdom of seeds, both literally and metaphorically.
If you see a seemingly dead lot vacated in the urban retraction that mirrors our economic contraction, throw a handful of seeds on it every time you pass by. Any living growth is better than sterile dust blowing out to sea.
Plant mangroves on the fading shores of Fiji and Tuvalu.
If living things are cut down, throw seeds all behind the bulldozers.
Perhaps something living will grow.
Our global culture has a new tree, this Internet. Now the leaves rustling in the winds hear each other, and can cast seeds knowingly.
Knowledge and communication and love are like seeds, who knows where the winds will carry them, or where they might grow?
All they need is common ground. So there it is, speak across the vine of the world. Literally and figuratively, cast seeds at every patch of bare Earth.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Bluest Angel - Childhood Dream, Guardian Spirit, or Guiding Spirit?
When I was about four years old, I had a very mystical dream, from which I awoke in tears of reverence for the sheer beauty of the dream.
I have written several poems about this dream. It has stayed with me vividly throughout my life. I was living in Madison, Wisconsin at the time. I believe it was late Autumn.
This was a period in my life, less than a year, when I experienced three of the most powerful mystical experiences I have ever known. The Buest Angel, who I now call Azure, was one of them.
The dream itself was quite simple, and yet extremely powerful.
In the dream, God was shown as a brilliant beam of light shining down on all the world from above. Flying up and down within the beam of Godlight were many angels, and the ones ascending were carrying small, beautiful lights, like golden candle flames.
When the angels rose to the top, they gently and reverently handed the small glowing lights to the Bluest Angel. Her robes were blue, her halo was blue, her eyes were blue. Her hair was so pale it could almost be blond, but instead of pale yellow-gold, it was pale blue-white. Her skin was faintly blue, and so were her wings.
As she took each light, it would absorb into her palms, and she would fly up to God's ear, singing to God. She took my light directly from me, and flew up and sang it to God. The song was the most beautiful I'd ever heard, her voice filled with tender and gentle love.
At that point, I realized what the lights were; the lights Azure was singing into God's ear were PRAYERS.
I've since come to believe that Azure is my Guardian Angel. There are times in my life that I escaped severe injury by a near-miracle, I'm certain I had a Guardian Angel looking over me then. I've never seen another angel, not even in my dreams.
I think that when I am able to journey, I will try to seek Azure out, to thank her for her beautiful and loving service, and to ask her counsel and guidance.
I am amazed that this only occurred to me just now.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
I have written several poems about this dream. It has stayed with me vividly throughout my life. I was living in Madison, Wisconsin at the time. I believe it was late Autumn.
This was a period in my life, less than a year, when I experienced three of the most powerful mystical experiences I have ever known. The Buest Angel, who I now call Azure, was one of them.
The dream itself was quite simple, and yet extremely powerful.
In the dream, God was shown as a brilliant beam of light shining down on all the world from above. Flying up and down within the beam of Godlight were many angels, and the ones ascending were carrying small, beautiful lights, like golden candle flames.
When the angels rose to the top, they gently and reverently handed the small glowing lights to the Bluest Angel. Her robes were blue, her halo was blue, her eyes were blue. Her hair was so pale it could almost be blond, but instead of pale yellow-gold, it was pale blue-white. Her skin was faintly blue, and so were her wings.
As she took each light, it would absorb into her palms, and she would fly up to God's ear, singing to God. She took my light directly from me, and flew up and sang it to God. The song was the most beautiful I'd ever heard, her voice filled with tender and gentle love.
At that point, I realized what the lights were; the lights Azure was singing into God's ear were PRAYERS.
I've since come to believe that Azure is my Guardian Angel. There are times in my life that I escaped severe injury by a near-miracle, I'm certain I had a Guardian Angel looking over me then. I've never seen another angel, not even in my dreams.
I think that when I am able to journey, I will try to seek Azure out, to thank her for her beautiful and loving service, and to ask her counsel and guidance.
I am amazed that this only occurred to me just now.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Cailleach Beuhr (Beira) - The Celtic Snow Goddess...
...In Scottish and Irish legend, the Old Woman of Winter, mother of the Gods and Goddesses.
My wife and I often refer to a "Snow Goddess" who had a great deal to do with the more romantic and formative times of our early relationship.
For reasons private to us, it makes sense that to our ancestors, she would be a mother-figure, from which all sprang, but I will always see her as beautiful and serene, to be respected.
A stunning facet of the Universal God-force.
Much of my poetry is reflective of Her.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
I'm about half-way through Frank MacEowen's book...
...The Mist-Filled Path. (Amazon book page for The Mist-Filled Path )
The book really sits well with me, I feel a common chord in many ways with the writer. For one, I've always felt that what was done to the Celtic peoples of Europe by Rome and later the British was quite akin to what happened in North America when Europeans arrived here, on many levels. There's a solid bit on that in the book, but it's the least of the things I identify with here.
Another is the sense of Longing the author writes of, and also the reverence for the Earth, and an affinity for water and mist. There's also the sheer joy in being in natural places, and the envisioning of being around a bonfire dancing in celebration in Autumn.
There is so much to this book that it's difficult to know where to begin. I hear it singing down my bloodlines, which are Irish Celt, Norman, and Dane in large part. This writing sings to those parts of my ancestors' tree purely and true.
The writing style is softly poetic, yet filled with vivid energy and wisdom.
I know I've posted about this a third time here, but that should tell you something. If your shamanism touches on the Celtic traditions, I strongly suggest that you read this.
Thank you for reading,
Dan
The book really sits well with me, I feel a common chord in many ways with the writer. For one, I've always felt that what was done to the Celtic peoples of Europe by Rome and later the British was quite akin to what happened in North America when Europeans arrived here, on many levels. There's a solid bit on that in the book, but it's the least of the things I identify with here.
Another is the sense of Longing the author writes of, and also the reverence for the Earth, and an affinity for water and mist. There's also the sheer joy in being in natural places, and the envisioning of being around a bonfire dancing in celebration in Autumn.
There is so much to this book that it's difficult to know where to begin. I hear it singing down my bloodlines, which are Irish Celt, Norman, and Dane in large part. This writing sings to those parts of my ancestors' tree purely and true.
The writing style is softly poetic, yet filled with vivid energy and wisdom.
I know I've posted about this a third time here, but that should tell you something. If your shamanism touches on the Celtic traditions, I strongly suggest that you read this.
Thank you for reading,
Dan
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Reading The Mist...
The soft glow of existence surrounds us,
Blanket of mist and salt and light,
Where we were rivers flowing to sea,
As we swim tiredly upstream,
Or peacefully down,
Struggle or merge we learn,
There is nothing and no being,
Not a thing untouched by motion,
It is all apiece and in place.
See the world as sacred or dead,
You become your envisioning.
What that was created can not be filled of the Spirit of that creation,
Therefore interconnected as one,
Yet dreaming as many?
Walk the path that you see,
For there is no escape from your own footsteps,
And the journey is the goal.
Everything around you ever is washed in the waters of your sea-sight,
As you are in its.
You can climb mountains highest,
Yet you'll never be apart from water.
AquarianM
Reflections on Frank MacEowen's "The Mist-Filled Path."
Amazon book page for The Mist-Filled Path
We can be a tree carrying an axe,
We can be the fertile earth.
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Blanket of mist and salt and light,
Where we were rivers flowing to sea,
As we swim tiredly upstream,
Or peacefully down,
Struggle or merge we learn,
There is nothing and no being,
Not a thing untouched by motion,
It is all apiece and in place.
See the world as sacred or dead,
You become your envisioning.
What that was created can not be filled of the Spirit of that creation,
Therefore interconnected as one,
Yet dreaming as many?
Walk the path that you see,
For there is no escape from your own footsteps,
And the journey is the goal.
Everything around you ever is washed in the waters of your sea-sight,
As you are in its.
You can climb mountains highest,
Yet you'll never be apart from water.
AquarianM
Reflections on Frank MacEowen's "The Mist-Filled Path."
Amazon book page for The Mist-Filled Path
We can be a tree carrying an axe,
We can be the fertile earth.
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Seeing The Matrix...
My wife and I were attending a ceremony at the Spiritualist Church of Truth in Northern Chicago. I think this would have been in 2004 sometime, I don't remember the exact date.
The service itself was beautiful and enjoyable.
At one point, people were being allowed to come up to the Altar, if that's what they call it, for a healing blessing. As they walked up, there were healers on either side of the center aisle, sending cleansing and healing energies through to the people walking up the aisle.
At this point, I did what felt natural - I called healing white light into myself ( crown chakra) from all points in the Universe, and channeled it out through small chakras in the palms of my hands. I sent the white light out through the floor to the healers, sharing it with them, helping them power the healing and banish dark energies before people reached the Altar.
As I was channeling the white light energy to the healers, I had a momentary vision. I saw everything as it was, made of pure white energy, brilliant, a lacework of glowing, gleaming, beautiful pearly-white light with rainbows glinting around the edges of the weave. I could see that everything was made of this white, gorgeous light weave. The floors, the walls, the pews, the ceiling, and even the people. The people were shining most brilliantly of everything nearby. I could feel that this weave went out as far as my mind could comprehend, that the entire Universe is composed of this beautiful energy underneath the surface of what we see.
It was quite amazing - the universe composed of a glowing, gleaming lace of white light.
I wrote of it in a poem in 2007, which you can find here:
A Lace of White Light
As always, thank You for reading and your time. It is precious.
I hope this gives you a sense of the beauty underlying our existence.
Dan
The service itself was beautiful and enjoyable.
At one point, people were being allowed to come up to the Altar, if that's what they call it, for a healing blessing. As they walked up, there were healers on either side of the center aisle, sending cleansing and healing energies through to the people walking up the aisle.
At this point, I did what felt natural - I called healing white light into myself ( crown chakra) from all points in the Universe, and channeled it out through small chakras in the palms of my hands. I sent the white light out through the floor to the healers, sharing it with them, helping them power the healing and banish dark energies before people reached the Altar.
As I was channeling the white light energy to the healers, I had a momentary vision. I saw everything as it was, made of pure white energy, brilliant, a lacework of glowing, gleaming, beautiful pearly-white light with rainbows glinting around the edges of the weave. I could see that everything was made of this white, gorgeous light weave. The floors, the walls, the pews, the ceiling, and even the people. The people were shining most brilliantly of everything nearby. I could feel that this weave went out as far as my mind could comprehend, that the entire Universe is composed of this beautiful energy underneath the surface of what we see.
It was quite amazing - the universe composed of a glowing, gleaming lace of white light.
I wrote of it in a poem in 2007, which you can find here:
A Lace of White Light
As always, thank You for reading and your time. It is precious.
I hope this gives you a sense of the beauty underlying our existence.
Dan
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Cahokia Mounds...
...are an amazing place.
The Cahokia Mounds were created by a complex Native American culture that failed and passed into history some five hundred years before Europeans were known to have arrived in the Americas. Their history and many details can be found if you click on the link I've provided here. However, this post isn't about the details or history of that place, famous and sacred as it is. It is about something that happened when I went there in the Summer of 2004.
I wrote a poem of the experience, you can find it here:
The Cahokia Mounds were created by a complex Native American culture that failed and passed into history some five hundred years before Europeans were known to have arrived in the Americas. Their history and many details can be found if you click on the link I've provided here. However, this post isn't about the details or history of that place, famous and sacred as it is. It is about something that happened when I went there in the Summer of 2004.
I wrote a poem of the experience, you can find it here:
Prayers in Places Of Power...
First, I knew beforehand that we were going there. My wife had wanted to visit the place for years. This particular Summer, we planned our excursion and went.
The Universe provided many of the elements necessary for the trip along the way. I won an award for exceptional service at work, one of the rewards was several nights of free hotel rooms, so our lodgings were free. I was also inspired to perform a ritual there from shortly before we left, so I had everything I needed When we arrived. The weather was perfect for the drive and for our visit to the Mounds.
We arrived at the Cahokia Mounds late in the day, late afternoon in August. As we were walking up to the largest mound, Monk's Mound as it is now called, we saw several people coming back down. They were of all different races and descriptions. All were smiling, friendly, greeting us with kindness as we passed them on the footpath. It was like they were sharing something with us - which they were. The energy was right, perfect, even.
Monk's Mound is HUGE. The base of Monk's Mound covers more land area than any other monumental structure ever built by humans. It covers fourteen and one-half acres of ground. At 300 feet or so high, it's nowhere near the tallest monument of ancient humanity, but it covers more ground than any of the Great Pyramids. It is a sacred place if ever I've felt one.
Monk's Mound
After climbing the stairs to the top, it was nearing sunset, but not quite. The sky was clear and blue, just getting dim in the distant East. The setting was perfect. After getting my bearings and looking around, I began what I had envisioned the day before we left home.
Lighting a fine cigar, I faced West, toward the lowering Sun. Blowing the sacred tobacco smoke up toward Heaven, I recited the following prayer: "Heal the Earth, heal Mankind, in perfect ways, in perfect time." I repeated this three times facing West, each time taking a puff of the cigar and wafting the smoke upwards.
I faced the Cold North, repeating three times the prayer: "Heal the Earth, heal Mankind, in perfect ways, in perfect time."
I faced the Indigo East, repeating three times the prayer: "Heal the Earth, heal Mankind, in perfect ways, in perfect time."
I faced the Warm South, repeating three times the prayer: "Heal the Earth, heal Mankind, in perfect ways, in perfect time."
After the final repetition, the cigar was nearly done. I put it out, and scattered the remaining tobacco on the wind, which was blowing slightly from the East, most unusual. The tobacco went back to Mother Earth.
After releasing the tobacco, I looked up at the sky in the South. In the clear blue sky, a high, thin cross of cloud had formed, splitting the sky into four blue quadrants. In the Northwest quadrant of the cross, very near the center, I saw a cloud shape, perfectly clearly. It was a Thunderbird with Coyote riding on it's back. My wife also saw it clearly. It looked for all the world like the classic Thunderbird totem you see all the time. There was not another cloud in the sky, just this spectacular formation.
About a year later, I asked the great-grandson of a Sequoia chieftan what the vision meant. He replied that "for the two of them to show up together like that, it means that your prayer has been heard, and found acceptable."
In my heart, I knew then that the world would, in perfect ways and in perfect time, find healing and peace.
Thank you for reading as always. If you find yourself so inspired, please repeat this prayer in your own tradition.
Dan
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Snow and Mist Have Come...
The day is grey and white and wet,
Muting the colors of the world in quiet ambiguity.
Muting the colors of the world in quiet ambiguity.
The grass still peeks up,
Putting on its soft coat,
Evergreens and hardwoods flocked in slumber.
All is slowed now,
Even the city,
Turning inward,
Seeking the remnant joy of the child in us,
Freeing dreams from modern chains.
Winter has come,
And the keys to our younger days jingle softly,
Somewhere in the misty white swirls of her enchanted breath.
AquarianM
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Another Source of Wisdom Teachings: The Theosophical Society
The Theosophical Society is a wonderful resource, and for me it is a local one. Their U.S. Headquarters is only a twenty-minute drive from my home.
The Theosophical Society has an extensive library on-site at Olcott Center in Wheaton, Illinois, an excellent spiritual book store, a labyrinth on extensive grounds, on-going classes in all manner of spiritual traditions and Yoga, Tai Chi, & Quegong. They also have an excellent series of Thursday night lectures on many subjects, several of which have been on aspects of shamanism.
In addition, Olcott Center itself is a lovely old brick building that calls to mind for me an old English college or library.
Some have classed the Theosophical Society as if it were some sort of cult or other such nonsense. I've never met a more peaceful, soft-spoken, gentler bunch of spiritual seekers. I've been nothing but encouraged to search out knowledge for myself there, at my pace, in my way, and to suit my own interest and needs. In addition, the staff, up to and including the US-Branch President, are accessible and kind.
I can't speak to their other branches and locations or the people there, but the national headquarters in Wheaton is a wonderful place to spend time doing research.
Below are several photos I took of Olcott Center this morning. Click on each photo to enlarge, they're taken with a 12Mp camera.
.
The Theosophical Society has an extensive library on-site at Olcott Center in Wheaton, Illinois, an excellent spiritual book store, a labyrinth on extensive grounds, on-going classes in all manner of spiritual traditions and Yoga, Tai Chi, & Quegong. They also have an excellent series of Thursday night lectures on many subjects, several of which have been on aspects of shamanism.
In addition, Olcott Center itself is a lovely old brick building that calls to mind for me an old English college or library.
Some have classed the Theosophical Society as if it were some sort of cult or other such nonsense. I've never met a more peaceful, soft-spoken, gentler bunch of spiritual seekers. I've been nothing but encouraged to search out knowledge for myself there, at my pace, in my way, and to suit my own interest and needs. In addition, the staff, up to and including the US-Branch President, are accessible and kind.
I can't speak to their other branches and locations or the people there, but the national headquarters in Wheaton is a wonderful place to spend time doing research.
Below are several photos I took of Olcott Center this morning. Click on each photo to enlarge, they're taken with a 12Mp camera.
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Mist-Filled Path...
I am at the book store, sitting here reading this book, "The Mist-Filled Path." It is written by Frank MacEowen.
This is the book that stood out to my eye tonight, whose title was breathed into the lungs of my soul and exhaled into my hand.
I am barely thirty pages into the book, and already it resonates in my heart like a singing bowl from Tibet or the soft misty fog I loved walking in as a pre-teen.
I wonder where the silent hush of the mist leads.
Amazon book page for The Mist-Filled Path
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
This is the book that stood out to my eye tonight, whose title was breathed into the lungs of my soul and exhaled into my hand.
I am barely thirty pages into the book, and already it resonates in my heart like a singing bowl from Tibet or the soft misty fog I loved walking in as a pre-teen.
I wonder where the silent hush of the mist leads.
Amazon book page for The Mist-Filled Path
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
A Special Thank You To...
Shaman UK blog, for inspiring me to begin this blog. Without you, The Cherry Staff blog wouldn't exist.
Dan
Dan
By Oak, Ash, and Thorn: One of My Teachers...
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Amazon listing page: http://www.amazon.com/Oak-Ash-Thorn-Shamanism-Llewellyns/dp/156718166X#reader_156718166X
I won't often be posting commercial listing on this blog, but this particular book resonates with me. I am still in the process of reading it, but it has given me wonderful guidance for the beginning of my journey.
I'll say here that I am not located in the UK, nor am I a UK citizen. I was born in Southern Wisconsin in the USA, and I currently reside less than 100 miles from where I was born. Still, I have a lot of English and Irish heritage, and Danish as well. The mystery of Celtic culture fascinates me, and the love of nature and reverence for trees I find in everything I read touches me right in my spirit and bones.
This book gives a wonderful overview of the modern neo-Celtic revival and shamanism as viewed from that path. It touches lightly on what little is known of historic Celtic culture and legends, and goes into tree lore and the Oagham alphabet. It is also a good basic primer on shamanic journeying principles, initiation ceremonies, and the three-worlds cosmology. The book is rich with everything that calls to me, and I've only read half of it as yet.
I can't say if the book is for you, the Reader, or not. Only your own inner guidance can tell you what path calls to you. This one calls to me, however, and quite strongly.
Another wonderful source that gives in-depth articles and stories across multiple shamanic traditions from all over the world is Sacred Hoop Magazine.
Sacred Hoop is wonderful. It's published in the UK, and the articles in it are not broken up with advertisements like American magazines. There are plenty of ads in the magazine, but they are around the articles, not splitting them up.
I've been reading Sacred Hoop for about three years now, and this year I finally got a subscription, as the magazine is not easy to find in US bookstores. I've bought every issue since the first I found, and read them cover-to-cover. After nearly three years, I might as well subscribe, because I'm not willing to miss an issue.
Much of my thinking on Shamanism has been shaped by these two sources, and they color my vision of the Shamanic Arts powerfully.
Later posts will cover shaminic experiences i've had, but I thought it best to let you know where my roots grow from first.
Thank you as always for reading.
Dan
Where the name of this blog comes from...
Sacred Hoop Magazine, pages 27-29, issue number 63: "Walking With The World Tree."
This is an article on the historic uses of shamans' staffs. It also gives tips on making your own.
Interestingly enough, I have made my own staff, and was doing some of the things suggested in the article instinctively.
The staff I've made is not completely finished, but I know that it will be when the time is right.
My staff is made from the trunk of a snowfall cherry tree that I'd planted in our front yard one Autumn. The young tree didn't survive the late freeze that came the following Spring. It had already budded and was beginning to flower when the freeze hit, a hard freeze. I felt very responsible for the tree being where it was, and so I decided to give it a second life in the only fashion I could.
It is nearly seven feet tall, (a little over two meters) which makes it about two or three inches taller than I am. The staff has a slight bow to it.
I left the bark on the trunk. I also burned the Ogham alphabet in a spiral down the trunk with a magnifying glass in the morning sunshine, and near the top the Wheel of the Year.
Interestingly, as a staff, it wants to be upside down from what it was in its previous life. What was the point where the branches joined the trunk is now the staff's foot, and where the root ball used to join with it, it now reaches for the sky.
For now, the staff's foot is shod in white rubber. It wants to be shod in brass, I can feel. At some point I will find the right part and do so.
The staff also wants a large amethyst crystal atop it, and I have one for it, but I'm being very cautious about how I attach it.
I am very grateful to the tree and the Universe for providing me with such a beautiful shaman's staff.
I have used it many times to pull white healing light from the skies of both day and night, sending the energy into the grounds and plants around our house to nourish them and the soil of the Earth back to health. The soil there had been heavily depleted by farming before homes were built on it.
So there you have it - there really is a cherry staff, my beautiful and grace-full companion upon this journey we live. I haven't yet discovered its name.
One day soon, I'll add a picture here to this blog of the staff.
Dan
This is an article on the historic uses of shamans' staffs. It also gives tips on making your own.
Interestingly enough, I have made my own staff, and was doing some of the things suggested in the article instinctively.
The staff I've made is not completely finished, but I know that it will be when the time is right.
My staff is made from the trunk of a snowfall cherry tree that I'd planted in our front yard one Autumn. The young tree didn't survive the late freeze that came the following Spring. It had already budded and was beginning to flower when the freeze hit, a hard freeze. I felt very responsible for the tree being where it was, and so I decided to give it a second life in the only fashion I could.
It is nearly seven feet tall, (a little over two meters) which makes it about two or three inches taller than I am. The staff has a slight bow to it.
I left the bark on the trunk. I also burned the Ogham alphabet in a spiral down the trunk with a magnifying glass in the morning sunshine, and near the top the Wheel of the Year.
Interestingly, as a staff, it wants to be upside down from what it was in its previous life. What was the point where the branches joined the trunk is now the staff's foot, and where the root ball used to join with it, it now reaches for the sky.
For now, the staff's foot is shod in white rubber. It wants to be shod in brass, I can feel. At some point I will find the right part and do so.
The staff also wants a large amethyst crystal atop it, and I have one for it, but I'm being very cautious about how I attach it.
I am very grateful to the tree and the Universe for providing me with such a beautiful shaman's staff.
I have used it many times to pull white healing light from the skies of both day and night, sending the energy into the grounds and plants around our house to nourish them and the soil of the Earth back to health. The soil there had been heavily depleted by farming before homes were built on it.
So there you have it - there really is a cherry staff, my beautiful and grace-full companion upon this journey we live. I haven't yet discovered its name.
One day soon, I'll add a picture here to this blog of the staff.
Dan
Sunday, December 6, 2009
In The Beginning...
This is my personal journal on my journey into the way of Shamanism. I am a beginner, and my teachers are magazine articles, books, and spirit guides.
I have much to learn. I have also learned quite a bit. Life is like that; a constant cycle of change hopefully guided by the wisdom of the past, yet embracing the needs of the present and mysteries of the future.
The moment is always now.
Dan
I have much to learn. I have also learned quite a bit. Life is like that; a constant cycle of change hopefully guided by the wisdom of the past, yet embracing the needs of the present and mysteries of the future.
The moment is always now.
Dan
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