Monday, March 26, 2012


This happened back around 1995, when I was in my 20’s, and still pretty religious, Christian, fairly young in my belief system, and gullible. I was married with kids, and my husband was one of those people that looked like an elf… with mischievousness to go with it! He was also spiritually gifted, and possessed natural gifts to heal people, and just “know” things about people. He was uniquely magical.

One day he was talking to a friend and they agreed that they needed to go to the “underworld” to help someone with something. Now this scared me, because the only so-called “underworld” I had ever heard of was something akin to hell in the middle of the earth, even though I didn’t believe in a literal place inside the earth… but the concept of it was enough to know that it sounded dark, and dangerous. My ignorance preceded my common sense, for when they said that they might go, and that like Rip Van Winkle, they could wake up old, or might “disappear” on the “other side” and not come back, I freaked!

I became very fearful of my husband drumming and going anywhere called the underworld. I sought a friend who understood these things, whom I had seen help spirits/ghosts on the other side, which were stuck, to transition to the light. I will call this man Curtis, for he was courteous to me, and I appreciate his help. He told me, “Do not fear this. Just before you go to sleep tonight pray to God that he will show you this underworld in a dream. I mention to ask for a dream of it because unlike going to the underworld, just dreaming about it is like watching it on TV, because you see it like a screen in front of your eyes, rather than actually being there. It’s safe. You can watch without being harmed.”

So that night I prayed before going to bed, and sure enough, I had a dream. This was what I dreamt…

I was in a ritzy hotel, and was walking down the hallway. Shiny gold lamps hung on the wall, and fancy wallpaper with reds and yellows, with la fleur symbols abounded on its face. Carpet was below my feet. I walked down this hallway, and it was very long, until I noticed that the walls began changing, and slowly morphing into what looked like grey-brown rock. Further and further I went, until I realized I was fully in a cave, mine, or cavern entrance. Then it began descending. Down I went, exploring.

As I continued the path winded and turned, and got steeper and steeper. It opened up to large rooms of many sizes, and I noticed that people were there, everywhere. I could see even though it was dark, as if a dim light were around me, everywhere I went. The people were sad, lonely, and seemed lost, although not all of them appeared that way. Some had purpose in being there, but a few started tagging along with me, and asked if they could follow me. Seeing no harm in it I said yes. We walked further in, and I explored other room.

In a very large room I noticed a river at the bottom. I went to it, and it was swiftly flowing through. Floating on its surface were a few large white Styrofoam-looking ragged blocks, so I stepped into the water, and began to sink. The river was too deep and too fast. I was going under, so I grabbed at whatever I could, and even those white blocks, to get out. I was able to maneuver my way out, and the people were still there waiting beside the river bank for me. They had not gone in. Perhaps they knew better?

I then decided that I had had enough and wanted to go back home. I travelled back the way I came, up and up and up I went, out of the underworld. The people following me were still there, and I had even gotten a few more that decided they wanted to come along to get out. Once I got to the top, where the rock hallway began morphing back into the hotel hallway, I did not look back. I knew the people were there, but I no longer saw them because I did not turn to see.

What I noticed immediately upon returning to the “real” world was that it was bright! Sunlight shone in, and lamps were on in the daytime, and the gold was shiny, the colors bright… ALL of these things were manmade objects. It was so manufactured that it appeared fake, and superficial, and very shallow to me. I was immediately disgusted! The real world felt fake and the energy high-strung and superficial. At least when I had been in the underworld, even though the energy was of a lower vibration, it was dense and REAL, far more real than the “real world.” It felt much better in the underworld, like feeling the heartbeat of the earth. The energy there flowed through strong, yet subtly. The middle world of mankind was terribly depthless, flat, and trivial.

I wanted to go back to the underworld.

I woke up.

I told Curtis what I had dreamed and he said, “Wow, it sounds like you actually went there!” I found that almost comical since he said that when you dream of a place you are not actually there, yet he thought I had been there.

What is interesting is that there are common—universal—features of this underworld that all shamans around the world already know and recognize. The underworld is often entered via a tunnel or hole in the earth or water, even a hollow tree trunk. The tunnels can look like what astrophysicists call “wormholes” in that they are often twisted and ribbed. This traveling is really our minds going deep within ourselves, usually in theta brainwave state, to deeper levels to access information that lies within our very DNA. This ability is absolutely a universal human experience, if practiced. I knew nothing, and actually had a lot of ignorance and fear, yet once put into the mindset of faith, and security through “dreaming” with “God” to show me the “truth” then suddenly the whole (under)world opened up!

Curtis thought that the reason that the lost souls followed me out is because I was a light to them, and gave them hope. They knew I was not from that place, and wanted to move on. Also, that I could see everywhere was possibly an effect of my own light shining around me. It was one theory of his anyway.

I know that rivers are water, and that water is representative (symbolically) of emotion. To this day I do not quite know what the “Styrofoam blocks” were, but they looked like debris in the river of emotion. It flowed in from “somewhere” and out to “somewhere” so had some kind of significance there. I never explored this aspect very deeply.

Anyway, this trip to the underworld was my first experience, and it was a very positive one! I have since learned shamanistic practices, and have “journeyed” to the underworld many, many times, as well as the middle world (you can see alternate realities and the future here), and also the upper world where the spirits and other spirit guides dwell. Depending on what you need/want, you can travel in your mind to any of these places within yourself. They are simply representations of places inside yourself, which according to the Bible, is the kingdom of God, which is within you.

It’s all relative. Shamanism is highly individualistic, and has features found within it that all human spiritual experience around the globe entails. Prophecy, dreaming, foretelling, healing, and a host of other things stem from the same place within ourselves no matter what religion we filter it through. Different words and concepts for the same thing. Our enculturation, and especially ethnocentrism, will color our world, and either expand or limit our perceptions, and especially our beliefs. Religiosity often becomes a shadow rather than opening us up to the light that is really within us.

I see it as true that we are not just human beings having a spiritual experience… we are spiritual beings having a human experience.

Welcome to the underworld… this is where we live all the time, within these bodies… these earthen vessels that contain our spirits of who we really are.

We are vast, great, amazing beings with endless abilities.

Sometimes we have to wake up from the dream and realize who we really are.

I am thankful for my underworld dream… and also for being able to wake up from it, even if this human realm is a bit superficial.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


I journeyed in my mind to reclaim the five shards of my broken soul. It had happened not quite all at once, you see, but over a period of years, where stresses and cracks developed over time. Then, when the day of trauma came, and my being was taken by the others, and thrown to the ground, it shattered like an urn, or clay vessel, into a million pieces. Those pieces of me were lost, gone forever, except for one large shard that was all that was left of me. I dwelled and lived only in that one large piece.

Sure, I could have picked up the pieces… I could have glued them back together, but to what end? The vessel would never have been the same. It would have never held water, and would have leaked like a sieve. Emotions would have poured out of me, and spilled upon the ground for all to see. No, thought I, I would never be the same, and so chose to leave those pieces behind. Instead, I would grind up the fragments that were no longer me, and mix them with new clay, and pot up a new container, which could be fired and made anew. I would throw in a few flowers, and plant s and herbs, so that it would smell nice, and infuse within it a strength of nature, and bring a magickal quality to its constitution.

But there were five shards that I realized needed to be saved out. I had put them into a pack… the aged burden backpack from the days gone by, when I used to meditate and throw the pack over the bridge so that it could float away down the river. Every time I would find myself picking up those burdens, I would release it, and let it go, so it would drift away. But when I put these five shards of my ancient-vessel-being into the pack, I noticed it went to the side, and got stuck on a branch by the water’s edge. It hung there, calling to me. I ran across the bridge and plucked it out of the water, and took the five shards out, and put them in a safe place by a tree at the edge of the wilderness, not far from the river. I released the burden pack back into the water, where it floated downstream and out of sight.

Today, I chose to journey, and the sound of the rattle took me down into the underworld, and to the bridge, and the tree by the river, where the five shards lay safely tucked away. This was the very first time I decided to look at the shards, to see what they actually were. I had considered it before, but hadn’t done anything until now. It seemed a brave prospect. Reaching down, I chose the largest shard first.

I felt it. It was soft and pliable, and warm, and it beat like a drum. I knew instantly that this large piece was my heart. My heart, which had broken. I had lost it and left it behind. Why had I chosen to ignore it and abandon it? Did I not need it? Would I not need it one day soon? I felt of my heart shard, and replaced it where my heart would go, placing it within my chest. Wow.

The second and third shards were medium-sized. I grabbed up one, and felt of it. It was anger. Would I need anger? Did I have any use for such? It appeared like a dark spot far away, and I realized that anger was also drive to make a change, and was only a useful tool if used properly. I had rejected that anger in the past because of the hurt it brought to me, but now it seemed to be useful if used sparingly, and kept at a distance most of the time. It was worthy of keeping. I placed it in my abdomen, at the place of my diaphragm and the orange chakra center of my being. It would be useful one day.

I then reached for the other middle-sized shard. Instantly I knew it was hope. This realization came to me so fast! I had lost all hope before, and here it was before me. I didn’t even realize I had missed it, because it had been gone from me for so long. I placed the hope into the upper and back side of my head.

I started to get ahold of the fourth shard, which was one of the last two smallest ones, yet larger than the fifth and last one. However, something told me to wait. I put it down, and instead grasped the very smallest shard, which appeared to be about the size of a quarter. It was drive, or more specifically, sexual drive. Not all of it, but a part of it. Part that I had suppressed and that disappeared when I had broken apart… I had not needed it since I had been alone for 2 ½ years. I placed it at the area of my red chakra, where it belonged.

I considered the last piece, wondering about it, and why I had to wait for it. I picked it up; it appeared to be about the size of a lemon slice, and was equally sour. It was joy, gone bad. Rotten like fruit that had been past its prime. The joy, although once there in a relationship with someone I loved, had fled, and the life within that joy had gone from it, in a natural way. Entropy. The state of something unused, unmaintained, unneeded. The joy had lost its luster, and had faded to waste. Did I need this joy any more? It was no longer ripe, so I knew I did not. The joy attached to that relationship was gone, so I planted it by the roots of the large tree, so that it could rot in the ground and become natural fertilizer to help the tree grow, and so perhaps its essence of energy could enter the tree branches and begin again, in a new way. For now it was buried, but not forgotten, just released to nature to do what it is supposed to do, and be what it is supposed to be.

My five shards had been reclaimed… removed from the burden bag, placed in a safe spot, reconsidered and replaced within me as was needed, or by the tree roots as was applicable. These were parts lost from me, and now were again part of me. I could again begin to feel whole.