Old Post Six -the underworld

First written sometime in August, 2003
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Underworld...

A shaman is a gateway. That's our main skill. We walk with one foot in the spirit world and one foot in this world. I pick up a lot of stuff off of the people I meet. I'm really good at ignoring it. Most of the time I don't even notice it anymore. I'm not particularly interested in seeing how screwed up others are, that would cause me to notice how screwed up I am. (lol) So today I went into meditation, separated my expectations from my goal, and took a walk in the spirit world.

I've been there before, just playing around, you know -getting used to the place. Today was the first time I went there with a purpose.
I always go to my valley first. There is a cave in my valley, and the cave leads to the underworld. The underworld is one way of getting to the spirit world.
Just inside my cave are paintings of big things I've done, things that have caused my soul to grow in big leaps. (there aren't many, maybe a dozen pics) There's a branching to the left that leads to an artesian well of twinkley water. It appeared after Quinn died, when my grief was so heavy in my chest I had trouble breathing. I found it during a meditative wandering, and when I drank from it, I could breathe again. Forward from the cave paintings and down a long way is the heart of Mother Earth. I went there first during a guided meditation at a festival. Today there was a new branch. It led to the right, and the path was bumpy. I walked along knowing full well that I was heading toward the realm of death. As I travelled, I kept thinking, "You shouldn't go here alone. You should always have someone with you." I came to the little old woman who stands between me and my ancestors. Every time I go looking for my ancestors I have to deal with this woman. She is wrinkled and stooped with age, and incredibly strong-willed. (side note on ancestors follows) She orders the whole group around, demanding that the quiet ones come forward to meet me. I think she's my great grandma, except my great grandma was terrifying but nice, and I found myself very drawn to her after she got too old to swing a peach switch at my backside :) She died when I was 9 years old. Anyway, I met this guardian gatekeeper to my ancestors when I went looking for the native-american portion of my bloodline. I already knew the Celtic portion probably had some shamanistic traits, and I wanted to ask if my N.A. side did too. The old woman called a brown skinned, brown haired woman to come forward, and she refused. (!) My guardian pulled her forward, and she turned her back on me. The woman was my great-great grandmother. She was part Irish and part Cherokee. She was abandoned at birth and raised in an orphanage. She clearly wanted nothing to do with any of her relatives. I could see them beyond her, some were smiling and looking welcoming. The lady I think is my great grandma told my GG grandmother to get out of the way so I could talk to the rest, and GG clearly stated, "I will never allow her to talk to these people. She must go through me to meet them, and that I will not do." (sigh) It's not like I wanted to get all into the romanticized native american culture or anything. I knew virtually nothing of that part of my heritage, and wasn't trying to claim it. (some of them have since visited me on their own. Shamanism does, indeed run in that side of the family too.) I didn't think it was "cool" to be a shaman, I thought it was a burden that I carry because I'm strong enough to carry it. I think of it as a responsability and a gift. Not something to be taken lightly, but not a path to greatness either. It just is. I ignored it for as long as I could. I pretended to be "learning" to be a shaman, but not there yet. I did everything I could to avoid taking on shamanism, and sometimes I try to take it off -as one would remove a set of clothes. It never works for long. Something happens to get the ball rolling again, and then next thing I know I'm doing all the things nobody ever taught me to do but I'm damn good at anyway. It's always been like this. I know somewhere down the road I'll get scared that people will start worshiping me or something, and then I'll pretend I'm just a normal everyday person again, and today I'm glad I'm a shaman. I'm learning to trust the world to take care of itself. I'm learning to trust my friends, let them be who they are, and not put my expectations all over them -that they'll stop liking me but start needing me. It's hard for your friends to be friendly when they're trying to live up to your expectations and resenting every minute of it. So to my friends I say this - I love you unreservedly and without expectation. ;)

Back to today's journey...
My guardian great grandma was standing before a pea soup fog. This was the "veil between the worlds". I had to pass through the fog to reach my goal. I thought again how I shouldn't walk through here alone. I didn't have enough experience, it was a bad idea. I did it anyway. ;)
There were people in the fog, the recently deceased I guess. I've hung out in the fog before, and I usually get folks coming up and getting in my face and asking me to pass along a message of some kind. Today there was only one, and her message was for the person I was walking for. She followed me all the way through the veil, and finally left when I reached the other side and I had promised her I'd give the message. On the other side were more people, and there, shining like a beacon in the night, was my target. I did what I came to do, then abruptly snapped back to this mortal plane. I got a nasty headache and something felt not-right. Yep. I had snapped back so fast I'd left myself there. So I had to go back under and retrieve myself. It was not as hard as it sounds. Thank the Gods I didn't freak out and not go back, though. The person I had gone to see walked me all the way back to the entrance to my cave, and left a little "tag" so I could find them easier next time. It was a very thoughtful gesture.
*update* The "tag" comes and goes. When I think about it, I find it easily; but it's static -frozen in time or place. It's out there, not in here where it should be. When I meditate and walk through my inner cave, the "tag" is not there. Hmmm.