The Shaman Tales 6 : Molding Consciousness

The Shaman Tales 6 : Molding Consciousness

28 March 2020

Courtesy wallup.net

When she had first started using the shamanic gift on a large scale to summon rains she had known that this would happen according to the Ancient magic rules. These dictated that whatever the outcome in the immediate physical it would be replicated within one year or up to eighteen months from the time the ceremony was carried out thereby molding consciousness at that time. This was known as the frontal projection of the consciousness stream and required the shaman to separate from his/her physical self and stay astral during the intended time. Conversely, in a backward timeloop, one had to make the astral body go three years before the present time to carry out a shamanic ceremony that would affect the present.

 

Initially, she was meant to migrate from her current city to a special place called Alice Springs. She had pondered about it when the city had come out as a result of her dowsing ceremony as she did not know what this meant. It was then that she realized that there existed an Alice Springs and it was in Australia. By coincidence her own helper was dreaming of going to Australia but rather to Sydney than anywhere else. She thought that consciousness combined with her spells should take her to Australia then in astral form if not in the flesh.

 

At first, she realized that it was the fires of the phoenix that had been let out in the combined consciousness and to combat the ensuing drought-like state it was necessary to summon the rains. Her location was quite far from the regions affected but she knew that consciousness could carry through the shamanic trance joined with the witches’ spell if she released them within the right level of consciousness and at the right moment for them to manifest.

 

She knew that GAIA’s program was to regenerate herself by reducing what she considered weeds spread amongst her beautiful flowers. As a good gardener knows, if a beautiful patch of the garden is contaminated by weeds or by parasitic flowers, it is necessary to sacrifice patches of those flowers to save the whole garden. As a result GAIA had decided to wipe out many of what she considered weeds and that were in effect human beings. She did not consider them as more important than others because humans had long lost their connection to GAIA. She decided to do this in the region that lent itself the most to this and entire cities in Australia had suffered raging fires. The shamanic trance and combined witches’ spell helped with bringing some relief with the rains to the lands although it was insufficient as not enough levels of consciousness were drawn in by the worded intention. In short, the magic was diluted…

 

Tulku – Trancendence

Tune in me

Tune in me

4 March 2020

Cortesy bojan on deviantart.com

 

Beautiful

Halo in the sky

Fluffy clouds

Grey white shrouds

Pouring rain that greets my eye

Gladness as I sigh

 

Winter lakes

Swans that glide silent

Heaving chest

Put to rest

Sorrow from my mind now spent

All pains underwent

 

Silently

All sounds of Earth

Tune in me

As does rain

Golden reed that sways with mirth

To its patter’s birth

 

Reading of the poem:

Omar Faruk Tekbilek – Salute to the Sun!

Omar Faruk Tekbilek – Whirling Dervish

Ömer Faruk Tekbilek – Crazy Heart

Shower me in rain

Shower me in rain

10 February 2020

Courtesy Pinterest.com

 

Have it all

Bursting seams whispered

Pack in bulge

We indulge

Preserving by ingestion

All the holiness

 

I confess

In moments of sighs

The respite

In the might

Of the ghastly paths trodden

Forgiveness lengthy

 

My scream hurls

Off dilated chests

In plenty

Agony

Breathing in toxins to speak

What bosoms bore not

 

I claim eye

Redemption in sky

Words ripped off

The shorn back

Whip up a back to redeem

What I may then seem

 

Perfection

Art of plentiful

Nuances

Beautiful

Look within the chest that heaves

Nothing for the mass

 

Land of Perth

Rekindles the birth

Of the Love

Infinite

Take mind off woodlands ablaze

Shower me in rain

 

Reading of the poem:

Prosopa – Spanatis Spanoudakis

Bitter aftertaste

Bitter aftertaste

21 September 2018

 

Within my bosom

Ice clad features of sorrow

Melt down in habit

 

Whispers of monsoon

Rain down from shuttered eyelids

Illusion skin deep

 

Fed equal measures

Teaspoon of liquid honey

Bitter aftertaste

 

Reading of the poem: 

Smother – Daughter

 

The monsoon relief

The monsoon relief

20 August 2018

the-rain-2-kadin-ve-yagmur-akhepedia-com
Courtesy akhepedia.com

 

Dust, rubble and clay

Irregular particles

Unwinding the day

 

Swaying drumstick tree

Whispering with winds that blow

Heavy sun kisses

 

Shuddering skies heave

Lightning announcing the rain

The monsoon relief

 

Reading of the poem: 

Flam – Monsoon (Buddha Bar)

The end of the rain

The end of the rain
1 August 2018

woman in rain shutterstock com
Courtesy shutterstock.com

The rain was falling heavily on the roof of the car. From time to time a coconut, its stem  loosened from the tree it had clung to, fell onto the roof of the car causing a more audible thud than the falling rain. The air that had recently been hot and heavy grew cooler. The driver turned off the air conditioning and opened the windows. Some rain fell into the car and onto her lap, startling her and making her leave her daydreaming.

She looked around her and her eyes met the landscape of heaped piles of rubbish and slowly filling sewages. The rain had freed the stench of the sewages that had been slightly more discreet earlier. It reached her nostrils and she felt overpowered by the stench. The driver caught her look and reassured her that the pouring rain would soon cleanse the sewage. He smiled at her nodding his head in the typical way that all Indians did, a halfway between a yes and a no that was difficult to decipher for anyone who was not from the country.

The light turned red and the taxi came to a standstill. She looked back at the sewages and the piles of garbage. She still wondered at how she had reached here with what seemed to be no real purpose or mission other than making her father happy. She was not sure this was how it was meant to be. She struggled inwards against the feeling of hopelessness that gnawed at her heart.

Outside beggars were busy grappling with their tatters trying to cover and shield themselves from the pouring rain. Some stood stoically beside the windows of those drivers who had opened them and stonily asked for money, their faces devoid of any sense of expectation of mercy. A few vendors shook some toys and other gadgets in front of the windows, yelling the prices across. Their faces held the hope that some of the children in the back seats would help the parents in the front seat make a positive decision in their favour. She watched as their faces fell when the lights turned green and the cars resumed their rush across the streets.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she could feel an analogy forming between those vendors, the beggars and herself. They were all hoping for something that simply did not seem to be coming their way. She looked out at the beggars making their way through the swerving cars. They seemed in no hurry to get out of the way and there were no policemen coming to mend the situation. It had always surprised her to notice that there were so few policemen at the points of great turbulence although there were several hanging around in groups laughing and exchanging pleasantries where there seemed to be no traffic problems at all.

She smiled a wry smile at the thought that where she had indeed seen a policeman at a point of turbulence where beggars and other vendors had been obstructing traffic, he simply did not seem to be concerned. Another oddity, at least for her, was the regular crossing of cows which made their way across the street oblivious of the traffic. Some of the cows actually simply stayed in the middle of the street and the drivers artfully drove around them thanks no doubt to years of experience doing that. The drivers were not so kind though to the stray dogs which sometimes ended up in the middle of the road or on its sides as roadkill.

Her mind strayed back to the times when she had been musing on the meaning of life and the equivalence of all beings. It had seemed to her earlier that all beings had to be equal for there to be a proper energetic balance in the world. She realised now that in practice it was going to be very difficult to achieve such a state of being because nobody seemed to be willing to consider what they coined as lesser beings as their equal. She realised that she too was not yet at that stage.

It then occurred to her that perhaps beyond the desire of her father, this was what had brought her to this country. Practice what you preach she told herself inwards ironically She had indeed always embraced the theory that all beings were alike but in her daily life in a country where she was not confronted with the reality of all these beings swarming together in the same context it had seemed easier. Now that everything was let loose and seemingly at par, she realised that it was not so easy to live that concept in its entirety.

She thought about the dog she had lost in her old location and how much more it had seemed feasible to consider herself as equal to it while it seemed much more difficult
with the dirty stray dogs in this country. She knew that with the practice of the stillness of the mind she could extract herself from the context and reach a feeling of inward peace but somehow she felt that she must go through this sense of uneasiness stirred by the filling sewages and their stench and reach inward peace while experiencing all of this. Perhaps this was one of the reasons she was here, to be at the heart of a turbulent, dirty city and yet feel the sense of inner peace pervading her.

She giggled at the thought that she might be stuck here a long time as she did not feel capable of attaining that inner peace within this context if she were not to extract herself from it mentally. The rising stench slowly sobered her and she watched again the whizzing landscape of beggars, vendors, piles of rubbish, flowing sewages and cars. The rain had gradually gone down to a trickle and she gratefully noticed that the sewages had not started overflowing. She had heard horror stories of people having to wade through sewage water to reach their destination and she really did not feel up to such a feat.

She relaxed into her seat and stared at the sky which was clearing up seemingly at the same speed that her thoughts were. She felt great satisfaction at having reached the realisation of one of the reasons she was here. There were surely other reasons and she felt that some of them were tied to the acquisition of empirical knowledge and acceptance of some of the theories she had embraced earlier purely in the form of a thought process.

She felt that once she was able to experience these matters and reach the same conclusions as in her thought process, she would no longer have to be in that context because context as a concept would no longer hold any meaning for her. It was a necessary stage in the journey towards identifying within her the traceless and placeless. Just as it was necessary to be in a context that exacerbated something to be able to say that one had truly overcome its effect on oneself, it was also necessary to be in a context that challenged one’s beliefs to be able to say that one truly held those beliefs as valid. She now was on the right path in the journey of self-discovery. Know thyself she thought and within her welled a feeling of having overcome a stage towards that end. She smiled at the sun that peeped from behind the clouds signaling the end of the rain.

 

Return of the rains – Karunesh

 

 

It rained in my Heart

It rained in my Heart

15 March 2018

Christian Schloe heart 3
Courtesy Christian Schloe

 

Desert skies looming

Grey landscapes of dust and toil

Sun’s pallor lasted

 

Butterflies hung low

Paper birds flirted with winds

Sands wasted on skin

 

Trees shriveled in sight

Limp grass a patchwork of gloom

Green a memory

 

Stillness at peak point

Air absent in atmosphere

Windmills in the mind

 

Whisper from lost Home

Scent of jasmine in the air

Ray pierced into Grey

 

Skies broke into blue

Keen thoughts stirred within my soul

It rained in my Heart

 

Reading of the poem: 

Six Hours – Abel Korzeniowski