#4 A NEW PLOY FROM JESUS

DAGAJI W SPIRIT GUIDE ORB AT RIGHT SHOULDER - JUNE 2012

[Blog #4 in series]

It happens the same way every time.  Trying to get rid of Jesus and my Allies is such a challenge!  It tests my energy and imagination.  At a certain point they become so impossible I explode, and some sort of ploy or strategy emerges to rid me of them.  It works for a while.  Life is great for a while, without them.

Then, a very faint sign.  Makes me wonder.  Then a not-so-faint sign, and by now I know.  It’s almost always Marilyn Monroe.  She seems to be the leader, the aggressive one.  Nefertiti always hides.  Then Jesus comes along with some phony ploy.  By then, the game is on, and there isn’t much I can do, until they overplay their hand and I explode again.  They go away.

I wasn’t going to write this blog, then Jesus pulled an excellent ploy, and I decided to write about it, and then today the ploy fell apart, and I decided not to write about it, and now I’m writing about it.  There’s no choice but to resume a regular life.

After blog #3, I was resting for a day.  I decided to sit in the vortex again (see photo above), just to do my energy-flow exercises.  As I was getting deeper into it, it opened into another trance.

There was Jesus, standing at the edge of the sky, looking back over his shoulder at me.  He was asking permission to go.  He wanted to resume his mission as my Nagual out in the world (however he imagines that mission).  As I looked at him, I could see nothing wrong.  He had changed.  My work on him had apparently succeeded.

He had shoulder-length brown hair, with a band of some kind of vegetation around his head.  It wasn’t flowers.  Seemed more like straw.  Whatever it was, it was meant to convey spiritual modesty.  Also modest, was his long white robe or gown, draped simply to the tops of his bare feet.  He was ready to go out into the world as a modest teacher or healer, rather than the King of Heaven, or Lord of the Underworld, as he had shown himself to me over the years.

I just said, “Let him go.”  There was nothing wrong with him.  If he was my Nagual, I saw nothing that would embarrass or incriminate me; he was nothing like the Jesus I had known.  “Send him out,” I said, and he stepped forward.  I have no idea where he was going or what he intended to do.  But the feeling he left behind was Divine.  I felt a Heavenly peace and enjoyment.

Later that day, I was drumming with my little tom-tom, and I could See him, and the energies swirled around me.  It was delightful.  He said something, and I responded, very happy that things had turned out so nicely.

And later on, sitting in the trance chair,  I turned on Pandora for some music.  I had it set to Young Punk Radio.  The music came on, and I was really grooving on it.  Of all the channels, the punks were the only ones who could penetrate the emptiness of my life among the dead.  The driving penetration of the beat, the soaring instrumental backgrounds, the nasal vocals, all were engineered to pierce the monotony of life.  Jesus was with me, having a great time.  “Ouch!” he said, “OUCH!!!”  He hadn’t said that for months.  That is his code word.  He would utter it often during my recitals, when I would be speaking the oracle.  Then I heard him say, “I got Daga!”  It was the first time he had used my Shaman name.  When they thought they had made a good contact with me, they would say “I got ……”  Nefertiti called me “the bebe.”  Jesus called me “Bobo”.  It felt good.  I was happy.

I had been working on a drawing, which was supposed to be my Dragon, emerging into the Dreamtime after the end of my Initiation as a Shaman.  But as I worked, it began to change.  It grew hair all over its face, exactly like one of the dogs next door.  This dog had been absent from the neighborhood for quite some time, but just the day before he had returned.  He has a spooky look in his eye, and cowers when I look at him.  He turns out to be the dog who leaves large piles of dog poop in the gravel parking lot.  At the same time, I became aware that a lost spirit of some sort was inhabiting the drawing, and had possessed the dog.  I used some garlic, and there was no more dog poop, and I did some mojo on the drawing to clear it.  But I put it away, not to finish it. 

Then the Dark of the Moon made its gesture.  The sky clouded over and it began to pour rain.  That night was the first hard freeze of the year.  The dog’s bucket froze over.  I put my woolen Chief’s blanket on the bed.  Today it was cold.

I went to the coffee shop to begin a new drawing.  I was drawing in the circles for the wheel of days, to signify the fact that in Shamanic work like this, it is always the next day that tells us what is happening.  One day is never enough.  Days and days come and go as a scenario plays itself out in spirit.  It is through the practice of Shamanic Yoga that I am able to remain grounded and centered during extended ploys of the spirits.  And the knowledge of the Moods of the Moon, as well as the ‘tattwas’ of the I Ching.  The changes help the spirits accomplish their ploys, and helps us decipher them and withstand their intensity.  This ploy had sucked all the energy from the Medicine Room, and I was exhausted.

That’s the reason they put six beers in a six-pack.  It takes two beers to usher in the ploy.  The next day, two more beers ground the ploy into the waking intellect so we can understand the hidden dimensions and intent of the spirits.

And today I consumed the last two beers, as I slammed the door shut on Jesus.  Not to say that he didn’t make a final grandstand gesture.

As I sat at an unusual table in the coffee shop, near the rear entrance, I could see down the stairs into the lower level.  I hardly ever go down there, because there is no daylight, but more than that, that is the Christian hangout.  Nearly every time I go down there, I see some Christian soul-sucker at work.  It’s amazing to see.  The young and innocent dupes go down there for Bible study with some older, more experienced devotee, and soon the energies are being sucked from him or her, leaving a vacant look in the eyes.

Today was even more interesting.  The door behind me opened silently, and a large man in a black clerical  coat/gown slipped quietly down the stairs, followed by two young people.  After a moment, I could see one person lean forward and kiss the hand of the Cleric.  A short while later, he came back up the stairs, and I could see the oversize silver chain with its elaborate silver cross dangling down the front of his black inner jacket.  He looked directly at me, and I could see Power oozing from his every pore.  He disappeared out the door.

At home, later, I spent a long time, ‘rehearsing’.  I find it is necessary to rehearse to myself exactly what happens during these ploys, and discussing with myself the various options/ramifications/implications of the ploy, my reaction to it, and the possible tactics to be used to re-center my Intent, as well as to clear the Medicine at the appropriate depths.  Nothing is ever as it seems on the surface, except when it’s exactly as it seems.  Some ploys demand a response.  Some ploys have to be ignored.  There is meaning in everything.  Observing the subtleties during repeated phases of the moon is perfect training for determining the subtle meanings in spirit ploys.  One of the first things to be learned is the art of Forbearance.  Since the meanings and Intent of the spirits are hard to see, acting too soon would be folly.  Ahhh, I love the Art of Stalking!

The “Beer Test” is my contribution to the Art of Stalking.  Drinking that first beer takes us to a lower level of awareness and physical energy.  During that descent, the Shaman’s Body is able to discern what’s what.  If there is something amiss in the Emotional Body, or elsewhere, it will announce itself during that first beer.  It’s important not to miss these signals from the Emotional Body, because that’s where the spirits lodge their insidious intrusions.  The bruise that forms can be debilitating, and can be the cause of disease if left untended.

During my first two beers, earlier, I was euphoric, still under the effect of the venom of Jesus’ attack.  It took two days, and the visit from the Cleric to make it clear to me what his Intent had been.

Without the inner knowledge of my body, gained from Shamanic Yoga and the breathwork that unites (‘yug’) the Mental Body with the Physical Body, I would never be able to detect the damages to the Emotional Body.  As they are revealed in tight or mis-aligned muscles and muscle groups, they dissolve under the Intent and gaze of the Shaman as s/he directs the prana into the problem area.