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Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Inner Struggle of Vision

I may write down some of my experiences, but it seems a bit funny to me that while I recall them enough to write them in some detail, I still don't quite understand them. 

My first obstacle here, is are these really encounters, or are they just my subconscious.  I would like to say that I can recognize the difference.  There are plenty of meditation walks or dreams that while they can be wild, they all feel the same.  Uncontrolled or unconscious responses, no immediate recognition of shifting scenarios, no immediate recognition of events that don't make logical sense, trouble with mobility...you know...normal dream stuff.  Sometimes I can look around in a semi-consciousness to it, almost like watching a film as I am playing a part at the same time.  Then there are others that have every sensation of being awake, yet in a place where the normal laws don't seem to preside.  It's easy enough to point out little things; I feel texture, pain, shortness of breath, full emotions.  My surrounding are sharper, there's no haziness in the details.  There is no automatic response from me, none of my actions feel staged.  I really feel if as if I am somewhere else.  Usually I also feel exhausted afterwards, like I've been awake for 2 days kind of tired.

It is easy enough for me to assume that the first example is my brain just trying to process information.  The subconscious is a powerful thing and recognizes so much more than our consciousness.  Though, given that the subconscious is absolutely amazing, what's to say that every other experience with it's smells and texture, isn't just a complex working of the subconscious?  A complex working would mean that it could easily bring up sensations and memories in clearer detail.  It would also explain the exhaustion, the subconscious working overdrive to bring such elaborate things into the consciousness would be much more work than I assume is normal.  I have a creative mind to begin with, so it's not too far of a stretch for me to think that even the most impressive experiences during my meditations/dream walks are constructions of my subconscious.

If that's the case, how much would it matter?  How much of a difference would it make if my encounters with Coyote are nothing more than my subconscious picking out an easy archetype and image to fit it in order to work through some of the more complex thoughts rolling around in my head?  Personally, I would view them in just the same skepticism, and evaluation as I do now.  Though if I knew for certain it's one or the other, my basis for evaluation would be a bit different.  I would still analyze my experiences, just as I analyze social interactions.  But in the same way I can't evaluate interactions with wild animals is not the same way I can evaluate interactions with domestic animals, or humans...it would differ.

Let's say I assume spiritual intervention when I get a visit from Coyote.  Coyote being a trickster, I still try and see his interactions with me on a few different levels.  Deciding whether his advice or lessons is to be taken at face value is the least of my concerns.  Why did he tell me what he did?  What was my initial reaction?  Looking back on my initial reaction, is how I felt then the same way I feel now?  Why?  Is there any other way to view the situation?  Who else does this effect?  What is the impact I think this has on what I have been doing?  But it is all with the assumption of a being separate from myself has watched my interactions and is making observations.

Assuming it is all in my subconscious, similar questions will be asked, but with more of an air of trying to figure out why my subconscious and conscious don't line up.  Is it because of ingrained paradigms?  Am I now seeing something, is my subconscious afraid?


Then again, who's to say it's not a mix of both.  It's only my subconscious that is willing to fully accept the spiritual entities because my conscious mind is too wrapped up in deciding to whom they belong in the first place.

I've been told on numerous occasions to just follow my instincts on the matter.  If I am to do that, I would say that I am indeed not having elaborate conversations with a construct of my subconscious.  That I do have interactions with entities outside myself.  But again, the subconscious is a powerful thing.  Most instinctual things, such as gut feelings on an individual, are in fact the subconscious picking up on body language, tone of voice, facial expression, pharamones, and other little signifiers and letting us know with internal warning bells.  While the subconscious is able to give warning, sometimes it becomes jaded in the face of trauma so it becomes slightly paranoid.  We can see this when our "gut" is wrong about a person.

Though with the idea of trauma, we bring up the inevitable idea of mental illness playing a role.  The common phrase is "If you're seriously questioning your sanity then you're obviously fine.  Crazy people never know they're crazy"  But this is not necessarily true in whole.  I'm sure it is true in a long list of cases of severe illness, but what about minor?  They say that the deciding factor in whether it is illness, is how functional is a person in the outside world?  If they are able to hold down things that are considered necessary for survival such as network of friends, keeping a job, personal hygiene, and things of the like that they are fine for all intent and purpose.  If that is the case, I am just fine; though I have a tendency to be a bit to critical...

There are many strange experiences I have, and what makes it even harder is when things that seem unexplainable come to pass.  I think I will have a long road ahead of me before I am ever comfortable in an explanation.  Or maybe I really just need to embrace my gut feelings as they are and stop analyzing everything so much; it would be easy to pass off what is going on as crazy if none of it added up.  Maybe most of my problem comes with the fact that they have continually proven to have an accurate impact and I am not quite sure what it all means.

Friday, January 13, 2012

A Repremand from Coyote

I’ve had always hard time with the idea of being given a name.  How do I know it fits?  If I don’t feel that it fits, is that just me being stubborn?  I’ve seen it in others, where they’re given a name that they aren’t willing to accept but it fits.  I even have issues with my birth name sometimes.  In all honesty, it borders on the neurotic.

A dear friend of mine made note in an e-mail recently about calling me RedHawk.  I was excited and confused and having a ridiculously hard time with it. Was RedHawk okay?  What about my other totems?  Is it rude to them?  What name would even embody more, is it supposed to?   

It was around that time where I had a visit from a Coyote.  During a meditation walk, I was contemplating the ‘what’s in a name’ idea when a large Coyote met up with me in the middle of my trail.  He sat there for a few minutes, not letting me pass.

After staring at each other for a while, he huffed a sigh and told me to follow him with a touch of what sounded like frustration.  He took me to a clearing of trees off the path that I was initially traveling.  It was a large clearing, and the trees stretched very tall.  He turned and sat in front of me...looking as if he expected something from me.

After a while, I moved as if to sit in the grass but he cleared his throat in a very Coyote like fashion.  I froze.  After a few more seconds of looking at me he asked, “Do you really expect a name to embody everything in your personality?”

I blinked and just stared at him.

He gave me a Coyote-grin and stood.  “So you worry about being called a RedHawk?”  As he spoke, I shifted into a red-tailed hawk.  “But you also have a coyote?  Do you not?”  I stretched funny into a coyote but kept the wings of hawk.

I tried to look at myself, and Coyote was beginning to look amused. “And don’t you also have rattlesnake?”  A diamond pattern of scales crept up my coyote legs.  

“And my lady mud-dauber?”  I lost my coyote tail and gained the end of a wasp

“And let’s not forget grandmother spider”  My coyote face gained uncomfortable mandibles and way too many eyes

“And what about your very first?”  And my back legs changed into owl legs, complete with talons.  I was having a hard time balancing, seeing with multiple eyes was making things spin, and I just felt sick.  Coyote however, was rolling on the ground laughing.

“What a funny creature you are!” He gasped through his laughter.  “We haven’t even got everything yet!”  Little flames erupted on my paws as he paused long enough to make eye contact before continued to roll around and laugh.  The fire didn’t hurt, but I panicked and tried to stomp it out...which didn’t help my balance problem.  After the third time of falling, I just decided to lay there.  Some of my wing feathers were now changing to be bright colors and a bit longer.  Some of the scales on my front legs started to look more metallic.  Coyote recomposed himself and sat up again.  “So what shall we call you, my poor little creature?  What name would befit all of this?”  His voice still holding back laughter.  “Should we call you Chimera?  Should we see how much more we can fit?”

I lay there silent, trying to make the feeling of being ill stop more than trying to answer. I felt miserable and embarrassed and a bit stupid. Coyote laid down and scooted so his nose was touching what I had for a nose.  “Do you still feel you need a more encompassing name?” he asked in a very serious tone.  I still tried to lay as still as I possibly could, I dare not even try to shake my head “no” let alone try to use my funny mouth parts to talk.

He sighed and sat back up, “You can’t be everything at once you know.  Just as any name can’t encompass everything you are.”

As he spoke, I felt things shift back to being a coyote with red-tail hawk wings; this time with a bit more feathers scattered through the fur.  My insides stopped feeling like they were having an internal war and the world stopped spinning.  Still shaken, I didn’t want to move.  Coyote just sat patiently and closed his eyes as the sunlight poured through the trees.  It was warm and comforting, just sitting there sun bathing in fur and feathers.  I closed my eyes as well to help me try to relax.

Soon, I jumped ‘awake’ to being poked with a Coyote nose.  I got up cautiously and stood, still looking like a coyote with hawk wings.  “A name can’t be everything you are,” he repeated as he watched me. “Nor can you be all your medicine at once.  You should know better.  Names are given for how people see you.  People name you for how you allow them to see you.  They see what is important to them, or to you, or to both of you.  If you are called hawk, it is because that is how they see you and you should be proud to hold such character.  Not wonder if they see every step in your spectrum,” He cocked his head to the side and made a type of Coyote grin, “Even I don’t see that, you expect human peoples to see that?  You can’t even see your own nose!  Though, seeing as you’re dualistic in nature, I think this will suit you well for now”

“Dualistic?” as I was still feeling humiliated and still slightly violated it was very quiet, even though I was curious and slight confused.

Coyote rolled his eyes, apparently thinking it was a stupid question “DUUUUUUH,” mumbling to himself a bit afterwards.

“But how will anyone know it’s a red-tailed hawk if I have a coyote tail?” I thought in my head and glanced back to look at my tail.

Coyote scowled at me in response, “Be happy with a red-tailed coyote as you are.  You can’t have all your details.  Haven’t you been listening that it doesn’t matter?  Silly creature.”  I awoke as he got up and walked back into the trees.

Red-Tail Encounter; Take 2

The second time I encountered my Red-Tail friend, I had been unofficially learning from a woman who was from the Myamii tribe.  She was teaching me totems, and she had come to the conclusion that I was a turtle.  I had healing abilities, she felt I had the facial features of a turtle, I receded in my shell if in an intimidating environment, I’m overly patient...and turtles like me.

I had told her I had always thought I was a Red Tailed Hawk, at least one aspect.  I always had one live near me, even when I moved to the Outer Banks...one followed within weeks.

“No,” she scolded me, “you’re not flighty enough to be a bird totem.  And Hawks aren’t healers.  You’re a turtle and Hawk just came in to teach you not to hide from people all the time”

I was doing a lot of contemplation about this.  Was I just not seeing things right?  Was she on to something and I needed to not ignore it.  She was, after all, doing this much longer than I have been (which I now know is silly logic to use).  So it caused me a lot of confusion and stress and frustration.

It was then that I met him again.  

I started out as a large yellow bellied slider turtle.  I was swimming in a pond, and climbed out very clumsily to get in the sun and warm up.  I was struggling to get around properly, though still enjoying being a turtle.

Then a giant pair of feet appeared.  But being I was small and low to the ground, I guess they weren’t all that big comparatively.  A male’s voice laughed, “What do we have here?”

I was picked up by large, long fingered, but strong hands and lifted up to be face to face with the owner of the large feet.

I recognized him immediately and flailed in panic...to no avail of course

“What are you doing in that shell you silly girl?” as he turned me around as if looking for the open button.  He gave me a gentle shake, “How you gonna fly in that thing?”  He raised one eyebrow and looked at me skeptically and disapprovingly as he held me close to his face.  

I just shrank in my shell and he shook his head.

“Nope,” he said flatly, “not gonna do.  Don’t know why you let this idea get in your head...but you need your wings girl.  Only one way to solve this”

I knew I was moving, but I didn’t want to look where.

“You can’t use your wings in that thing” he said with a hint of what seemed like sadistic humor.....and dropped me

I was falling...from somewhere very very high.  I couldn’t see the ground.  I panicked.  I flailed.  And I wanted my wings.  I struggled against the shell, and screeched.  I stopped being scared and became angry at the fact that I had put this stupid shell on.  The shell popped off, I flopped in the air a bit before regaining my sense of where the currents were, and started a gentle glide.  

I took a deep breath.  Another red tailed hawk swooped down and I knew it was my guide.  Yep...my guide...the asshole...and I was ever thankful for him.  It wouldn’t have happened if I had only listened to him before hand...and I know he was aware of it too...

He winked, and smiled a bird smile and dove upwards (don’t ask me how...he just did)  And I glided as it faded away

Meeting My Red-Tail

The first time I met one particular guide, I was walking through my normal meditation walk woods.  I had been looking for a guide, but with no luck.  On this go around, I made it through the woods until I came to a sheer cliff face.  I turned to go back an the woods were dark and uninviting.  Instead of being discouraged I tried to scale the cliff face.  It wasn't easy, it was hard with little to no footholds.

As I got a few yards up, I suddenly noticed there were small steps that carved into the side.  I was slightly confused because I knew they weren't there before, but I was more intent on seeing what was at the top.  It was only a few steps before I breached the canopy of the trees (which magically were back to normal again).  There was a large red-tailed hawk circling, and he rose higher and higher until he passed through an exceptionally dense layer of clouds a long ways up.  I was excited to see a hawk, but I really didn't think much of it because he was so far away, so I kept climbing.  As much as it was difficult, it was exciting and satisfying.  The higher I got, the steps got ever slowly smaller.  

Eventually, I reached the clouds and instead of being like normal clouds, they were more like a membrane to pass through (which was difficult standing on teeny slivers of steps!).  But when I passed through the hard pudding clouds there were very solid and wide stairs that went up to the top, which was only about 9 stairs.  Looking down, the clouds didn't look like clouds anymore, but were iridescent swirly pretty flat sheets.  

At the top, it was a beautifully grassy space with an elegant house with organic curves with a dense, and somehow more wild, forest behind it.  The house was empty from what I could see in the exceptionally large windows.  I heard the hawk cry and when I scanned the sky for him I saw a hawk-ish shadow dart behind the house, and I was sure he was going to land in one of the trees.  So I went around the house to catch a glimpse of him.

I didn't see any sign on him, but as I was scanning the trees a mature man came out of the back door of the house.  Imagine Santa Clause mixed with Blackbeard as if he was dressed to take photos of wildlife for National Geographic; complete with a greenish hat with a stripped feather in it.  He asked what I was looking for.  He smiled as I told him about the hawk and chuckled.  He gave me a curious smile and told me that he lived here, and asked me how I got up here and who told me how to get here.

"No one," I told him kind of confused, "I just came to a cliff and climbed"

He gave me a jokingly skeptical look and asked what I was doing up here and what I wanted to find.

I still didn't know who he was, but I had a feeling he'd know if I was lying, so I told him how I was looking for a guide, some of my frustration in searching.

He told me that he was impressed I got here by myself as he put his arm around my shoulders and gently led me to a stone bench for us to sit and talk.  He looked very serious as he told me how proud of my journey he was, and impressed.  That I should understand how much that actually meant I had accomplished.  

We started to have a conversation about it, but then a younger man came out of the dark woods.  The gentleman excused himself and told me he'd be back.  Then he went over to the young man and greeted him warmly.  The young man bowed and they stated a lesson where he was being taught how to ground and project with his own energy.  

I started to get really angry.  I had just spilled my story to this guy, and he never even told me he was a teacher! He didn’t even give me the decency to tell me he wasn’t my teacher!  It was hard to sit there with myself and watch this young brown haired man getting exactly what I was striving so hard for.  I was horribly jealous of this guy, and I started to get angry at him too; I caught myself and realized I wasn’t angry with him as much as I was hurt and jealous.  He had what I wanted.  Why wasn’t I good enough to be taught?  Was it because I screwed something up?  Was it something I said wrong?  Was it because I failed at finding a guide earlier?  I went from angry to being horribly self criticizing.  

I was so caught up in my own brooding to the point I didn’t realize their lesson had ended and the man was headed my way.  He was just as pleasant as he was when he had left.  I tried to pretend I was okay, but he just stood there in front of me with his arms crossed.

“What’s wrong....” it wasn’t quite a scowl, it wasn’t quite confusion, but I felt I was in trouble

I did what a little kid would do, and tried to play it off like it was nothing, and then I put blame on daydreaming about contemplative things.  

He gave me a harsh critical stare

I sighed, squinted in anticipation of being yelled at, and told him I was jealous of the guy over there he was teaching.  But the yelling never came, he burst out laughing instead.

I was crushed.  “But,” I stared at him, “you kept telling me how I accomplished amazing things.  This guy doesn’t even know how to ground and you’re teaching him!  Why can’t you teach me?  What have I done wrong?”  I was so upset somewhere along the lines I had stood up, as if the height from standing would help my voice become big.

He stopped laughing and stared at me like I had grown a second head.
“Wrong?  Who said you did anything wrong?” he shook his head, “You just need to stop looking for a teacher.”

I looked up from my moping in complete and utter confusion.  He smiled and sighed, put his arm around my shoulder, “You know, not everyone needs a teacher.  You’re learning just fine on your own.”  

My mouth moved trying to form coherent words, but I think I just looked like a confused fish.

He just chuckled and told me not to worry.  “You’ll learn it in time.  You don’t need a proper teacher, you just need a guide to let you know it’s okay to keep going along and you’re doing just fine”

He patted my shoulder, turned me towards the woods.  There was a small campfire there that I had not seen before with a few people that I thought I recognized.  He told me to go see my friends, that they need my company.

I turned back towards him to ask him to elaborate, but all I saw was a hawk flying back up into a tall pine.  I stood there like an idiot, had he been the hawk?

He screeched at me and I mentally thanked him and jogged over to the campfire.

From there...it all melted