HANGED STARLING |
Since Jesus has become my 'Nagual', and as a result of the Despacho Ceremonies with Karen Chrappa, there have been so many things in my life, that I have been unable to present a record of them in my blogs.
I was visited by the angel Tzadkiel, who gifted me with a flying white stallion named Excalibur, who took me flying through the heavens shooting "Sun Bolts" from my fingers.
I was visited by Quetzalcoatl. He was a bald man with a large skull whom I've seen before. With this visit, he drove Buddha from his perch in the Buddha Vortex where I sit, to seek refuge in my scrotum. This visit put me into a very deep place from which I have yet to recover. I decided I needed to begin to pull together my memories of some of these events.
When Jesus became a projection from my loins, he continued a task which I had thought he had assigned to me (see my blog Human Sacrifice). I balked at the job (I have a long history of just walking off the job whenever I'm asked to do something stupid!) so he has taken over.
In my blog for Easter, I was still fogged in by the events of these recent weeks and forgot to mention that before the murders in Afghanistan, he had killed a female park ranger on Mt. Rainier, and caused Josh Powell to set fire to the house with him and his two boys inside. As a Shaman, my energy field has been expanded to the Dawn of Time, and to the edges of the physical universe. The energy field awareness is one of my primary means of perception. Also, the Medicine Energies I have worked to build in my apartment possess their own intelligence, and are another means of perception for me. Often various spirits will chip in bits of information. So I'm not just making all this up!
This is all a part of the instruction that comes with a true Shamanic Initiation.
In the early 1990s, only a few years into my Initiation as a Shaman, I took my first journey with Jesus. A man named Wesley Alan Dodd had mutilated (sexually) and killed a number of young boys, and was awaiting execution in the State Penitentiary in Walla Walla. On the night of his execution, I was in my trance chair in Ellensburg, and was taken up into a gridwork of red beams of light, the Red Ray (from Katrina Raphaell's "Crystalline Trilogy"), which is the ray of Jesus.
Dodd had remarked that "There is no hope for a guy like me." Jesus took me to visit him in his cell, just before the guards came for him. At the execution, his last words were, "I was wrong. There is hope for guys like me. Jesus has saved me." Many years later, after hundreds of thousands of deaths which have happened on my watch, the Voice of the Medicine clued me in about Jesus, in regard to the deaths of the young sons of Josh Powell. "All those priests in the Catholic Church were molesting the young boys for Jesus." I took strength knowing that none of the deaths on my 'watch' were my doing.
Over these years of struggle with my Allies, I have come to learn much about the ways of Spirit. We have come to a New Age. I call it the Post-Christian Paradigm. Consciousness has evolved to a point where it is now possible to observe the workings of Spirit through a global lens. I have Seen exactly how each God is formed from the Medicine Energies of each locale on the planet, in the same way that each Shaman is created from these energies, as a product of his/her culture. Jesus has shown me the need for these acts of human sacrifice. I know that I have not yet accepted this need.
So this morning I was seated again in the Buddha vortex, realigning my energies with the A-O-M Intonation. I was elevated to a place I haven't seen for a long time.
There is a place I go to. I see the long, reaching bare branches of the Maple Trees behind me, up in the blue sky of winter. The branches are coated in a white blanket of frozen fog. It is stunning and beautiful (a Munay experience!) I eventually decided this represented death. This morning the coating on the branches was especially thick. All morning I have been in a heightened awareness that I am losing my ability to carry out the mundane daily tasks of housekeeping and kitchen chores. Age is taking its inevitable toll on me. (I'll turn 70 later this year....)
I was reminded of an event which occurred some time around the visit of Quetzalcoatl, the departure of the Anaconda Jesus, and the flight on Excalibur. I had thought it was linked to the deaths of Josh Powell's two boys.
I was again in the Buddha vortex, and I rose into a lovely flying journey. I was soaring through the skies, and revisited a scene I had witnessed from a bluff overlooking Puget Sound, near Edmonds. I had been watching a flock of gulls winging toward the south, out over the waters. From the north, an Eagle appeared, floated down toward the gulls, until he was right on top of one in the center of the flock, joined with the gull, without any ripple of resistance anywhere in the flock of gulls, and the two flew off to the east.
In my journey, I had soared above a waterfall. I was riding the rising mists, enjoying the rainbows which surrounded me. (Suddenly I realized that this was the same waterfall I had been tossed over in another Initiation as a Shaman, by my mentor, who was also my first spirit guide in this present lifetime, Yazzu Kyl Ini Pumu, from the upper Amazon. Yazzu is now LL Cool J. The first time I saw LL Cool J on TV, in the early '90s, my third eye popped right out of my forehead like one of those deelybobbers worn by John Belushi. I had broken my back in the fall, and Yazzu had mended the break with a small crystal cluster, which now sits on my altar....) At one with the flow of events around me, I was no longer alone, but joined with another. Whether gull or eagle, I couldn't decide. We moved with events, and soon became one with the rainbow mists. I had seen this rainbow mist twice before.
The first time was on the first morning of my Initiation as a Shaman, when the face on the Film Series poster on my wall, my first meeting with Marilyn Monroe, smiled and broke into just this sort of misty rainbow of love.
The second time was when the two guys from the funeral home were loading the corpse of my father from his deathbed into the body bag, and his right arm flung itself toward the ceiling as he waved goodbye to me, and his face broke out into this rainbow mist of love.
This morning the Medicine delivered another message. All these deaths at the hands of Jesus have been sacrifices he is presenting to me, for me, for my Medicine. The fact that his return from this latest journey came in a package bringing new crystals into my Medicine gives new power to these crystals. I still can't figure out why he can't just send someone to help me get the dust off all these things that clutter my apartment! It's choking me to death!
And don't ever listen to those who tell you not to complain. I've had no choice, during this Initiation as a Shaman, but to turn misfortune into a sport. In the Wisdom of the Uninitiated (Avidya, in yoga terms), it's taboo to whine, show anger, complain or fight back. But as a Shaman, I'll go down fighting, raging, honing my rage into a flaming fury, just to be me. Namaste