Is Seeing Believing?

Sometimes you want to be seen and sometimes you don't.

Take the Leap: Grace Speaks

Greetings, my dears. The New Year’s here. I’m snuffling your ear.

Do you like my poem? Woof.

I’m sorry my New Year’s message is late but my two-legged’s been having trouble translating what I’m telling her. The human brain doesn’t easily catch the drift.

This is my New Year’s tip. You realize you’re listening to a dead dog. Ha ha ha. I’m only dead in the way that I dropped my body. I changed. But I am here in full fine form finally. Bigger than life. What does that mean anyway? I know, but it’s a koan for you. Woof!

Love. That’s the deal, seal. Nada mas.

You got to love. A person. An animal. A being.

All different kinds of love. I’m talking about them all in the largest, most expansive, the deepest sense. In the smallest daily way.

Every day my person put her palm on my flat head, “Good morning, Gracie.” She said. She’d gently rub the points of my ears with her fingertips. “You’ve got the softest little ears, and look at those cheeks.” She’d stroke my cheek spots and squeeze me.

My younger person curled up with me on the floor every evening. “Goozie, I love you.” Then she’d tell me all about what happened at school, especially things that made her feel badly. She played soccer with me in the back yard, giggling, running, and kicking the ball. “I got you. I made a goal. Woa, great dribbling, Goozie. Give that back.”

Loving another being connects us-- to them and to ourself. A oneness. I’m not a guru, but it’s true. We feel at one with ourself and the universe, if only for a second. That’s all we need to begin, a second. It’s worth going for. After all, if we have a choice, why not choose love? Make the leap. Abandon your self.

Plus, our love moves us to work for the loved one. I loved taking care of my people. Working for them. That’s the deal. We’re here to work for each other. It feels good.

I worked for my family, my two sweet ones. Keeping them safe, loved, cared for, having fun, reminding them of the present. I felt joy whenever I saw them. I gave them joy and giggles and someone to care for in return. Wag wag wagging.

They worked for me. They gave me shelter, food, water, joy, kept me safe, and loved. They cared for me deeply. We were connected. Although we each had different relationships, love unified us. Even though I dropped my wonderful body, we’re still deeply connected, as you see. I trot after them everywhere they go. Woof.

Love connects us. Love is a joy. Connection can lead to compassion, which is part of why we’re here, I think. Part of our work. Being at one with someone can take us to instant exhilaration, to joy, as well as instant compassion for their suffering, which we are moved to relieve.

Picture our world in which all humans acted from love and compassion. Woof!

My companion, Soft Tone, used to throw balls for me really far in the distance and I ran so fast and leapt up in the air and caught them. What a feeling! I flew through the air and snagged the ball right out of space. I held it with my teeth and felt it on my flat tongue. Sometimes I’d squoosh it between my teeth. It tasted like Soft Tone’s scent and the wind.

I’d gallop back and drop it in front of her. If she didn’t pick it up, I’d bark or grab it back. I didn’t think about it; I was just one with myself, my person, the ball, the space, the earth, my muscles, the flying, my intent to catch, the universe around me. When we’re one with ourself, we don’t think about it. We just are.

And when love comes, when compassion happens, it shoots through us like leaping for a ball, a wag of the tail. It’s automatic and it’s deep. It happens. In that moment we are One. With the air, the earth, the ball, the universe, all living things--One Heart.

When Soft Tone saw me leap and fly for the ball I could tell by the way she stood still watching and by the smile that emanated from within that she felt it too. That moment.

“Wow! Gracie you are so beautiful. You just do it and then you have such a huge smile and you want to go again.”
She loved me. A miracle.

This is not an intellectual exercise I’m describing. I’m a dog. Woof. I’m giving you instructions on leaping. For love.
It’s not just words.

Connect with a person, a blade of grass, a flower, a cat, a bird, a rock, whatever it is, you’re on your way. Connecting opens the passage.

Connecting leads to Heart. We have a million opportunities each day. Leap!

Let me know how it goes. It's up to us.

I hope you like the photos.

Grace

The Unexpected-- Openings: Grace speaks

This is a photo my two-legged took of a burrowing owl. After my two-legged, Soft-Tone, found these owls at the Marina, she visited them every day until they left in late spring. This was after I had passed on. I tell you things about us which will help you to understand my story.

Three hundred sixty-five days of every year Soft-Tone and I walked, ran, and played ball. She took me every day. I was always the leader, I ran ahead.

Sweet-One, (My two-leggeds have many names.), said, “It’s ‘cause you’re an Aries, doggie, that’s why you always have to be in front, right?” She’d laugh and I’d smile and wag.

I liked leading. I go ahead to scout, to sniff things out, to decide if it’s okay to go forward, find the news from other dogs, find balls, and because I love running. I love being ahead and seeing everything that’s happening. That’s who I am.

Rain, sun, fog, wind, mud, freezing, scorching heat, whatever the conditions, we were out there. I remember only two times my whole life when the weather was beating us back that I thought I might want to get out of it.

One of those mornings we were out at Point Isabel, a park for dogs to run free, swim, get in competitions of tail angles, Alfa Competitions the two-leggeds call it. We were the only ones out there and that always made Soft-Tone laugh out loud. The wind and cold rain were slashing horizontally against us.

“Wow! It’s wild out here, Gracie. Soft-Tone said excitedly and laughed. “It’s wild!” And she threw her arms wide open to the wind and rain and let it beat her face and her chest. I was impressed.

After about fifteen minutes, she looked at me—my tail and my head—my whole body was down, sort of retracting. She said, “Gracie girl, you’re not having a good time. It must be extreme if you’re crouching like that. Let’s go, girl.”

We turned around and I perked up and pranced a little because I knew we were leaving the gale winds. I even plumed my tail. I smiled.

I loved when my Sweet-One took me with her places. Staying alone at home wasn’t for me. I hated it. I felt lonely. So when she opened the back of the station wagon one Saturday morning and my Number Two, her daughter, Gentle Hands, came too, I was thrilled. I never cared where we went, just that we were together. Every outing was an adventure. I leapt in.

We were driving to San Francisco. I was looking out at the water and feeling happy to be together with my pack. Suddenly I lost my balance and fell into the side of the car. I couldn’t stand up. I started to shake. I didn’t know what was happening. Every time I tried to stand I tipped over.

Soft-Tone heard the sound and looked in the rearview mirror. “Gracie, what’s wrong? Shit, I can’t stop.”

“Mom, what?” Gentle Hands said.

“Look back there and see if you can see what’s wrong with Grace. It looks like she can’t stand up.”

We were approaching the Bay Bridge and there was no pulling over or stopping. Soft-Tone kept talking. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll get over the bridge and we’ll see what’s going on. It’s okay sweetie.”

Gentle Hands was reaching through the barrier, petting me and encouraging me to stay lying down because even sitting I fell over.

When we got into San Francisco Soft-Tone parked, opened the back hatch and watched as I stood up and jumped out onto the pavement. I shook myself and was a little unsteady but not much. I felt better.

“Let’s see you walk, Gracie.” Soft-Tone watched me. I trotted around, sniffed, collected news. I felt fine. A little stiff.

She felt my body. Ran her hands down my spine, my head, legs, tail, chest. She squatted in front of me, looked in my eyes and kissed my nose. I loved that. I felt her worry and Number Two, my soccer partner, my charge to protect, I felt her worry the strongest. Gentle Hands. I also call her Sweet-Names because she called me many sweet names, love names.

“You seem fine, Gracie. But something happened. I’m going to ask the vet.”

I think I was about nine in two-legged years then. For the next four years, imperceptible at first to all of us, I began slowing.

Hey, I tell you I am a filled-with-energy, love to run and play being. I’m always ready to go. Every moment is exciting and unknown. I still feel that way. Slow, was not something I knew.

So, I didn’t know I was slowing. My black muzzle was showing a little grey, my brilliant tan points: my eyebrows, epaulets, my cockatiel cheeks as my Sweet-One called them, were fading. But no one noticed or said anything. I think sometimes when you love someone you don’t notice something that you don’t want to see. Because she loved ME.

When Soft-Tone explained the incident to John, my doctor, he said the incident was probably arthritis. I had been taking arthritis tablets for a couple of years. They were yummy and I think they helped. But Soft-Tone knew that the car incident wasn’t arthritis. She told John that but as he checked me he said there was nothing else.

“She has a slight heart murmur,” he said, “but that wouldn’t cause this. I think it’s the arthritis.”

Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you every creak and crunch I acquired during those four years, but it became harder to jump into the back of our station wagon. I weighed fifty pounds. Soft-Tone began researching ramps; phone calls, store visits, Internet, tried this and that.

One morning I was standing waiting as she opened the back hatch and she said, “Okay, Grace, I’ve got a new idea. Come back here.” We walked ten feet away from the open hatch. “Okay, we’re going to run to it, you’re going to jump and I’m going to help you leap.”

That sounded fun. I took off, I launched and in mid air I felt her sweet arms and hands encircle my middle and continue to support me and encourage me forward in my trajectory. That was our new strategy. I loved it. The feeling of jumping. With her help I could still do it. We did it every day.

At the Marina there are beautiful narrow dirt trotting paths that go up hills so at the top you can see all around the Bay, almost three-hundred sixty degrees. There are beautiful dirt trotting paths that lead down to the water. We loved going up and down these every morning. Of course I ran ahead down them and took detours hoping to sniff a rabbit or hear the squeak of a ground squirrel and tear after it. Yummy.

But somewhere in those four years after the car incident, Sweet-One and I changed places. One day we were walking down one of our favorite paths and I stopped and sat by a big outcropping of pampas grass while she continued down to the water. She thought I was detouring for a squirrel.

As I sat, the beautiful silvery tan plumes blew in the wind above my head. I tipped my nose up sniffing and thinking; my tail is majestic like these pampas plumes.

I had stopped about two thirds of the way down the hill. I waited. At the bottom Sweet-One turned around as usual to come back up but unexpectedly I was not leaping after a rabbit or running close to catch up after a side exploit. She saw me sitting.

“Gracie! Oh my gosh. I’ve never seen you stop or sit. You’re waiting for me aren’t you?” She walked up to me. “It’s too hard on your haunches to come all the way down this hill and go back up? I’m so sorry. What a fabulously clever girl you are to wait here.” And she hugged me. But I felt her sadness.

Sweet-One observed me from then on in a way she hadn’t before except to sing my beauty. She talked to me about what she saw. “Gracie, I think you’re not hearing the way you used to. Now I see you hear a normal sound but your ears perk up and you sometimes put your tail between your legs as if you’re hearing something scary. You come and put your nose on me or lean into my legs for protection. Something you’ve never done before except when you hear the street sweeper. Sometimes you don’t seem to hear someone coming up the steps, or at the door. I love you.” She hugged me.

I am a great lover of balls. When Gentle Hands was two and a half she learned from her mom how to throw a tennis ball for me, how to tell me to drop it, and how and when it was safe to pick it up again.

Often I grabbed the ball back after I’d put it down. I’d put it down in front of the two-legged’s feet, but I’d keep my muzzle down two inches at most away from the ball. I didn’t move a muscle. Only my eyes moved, watching the hand. I’d wait until the hand got almost to it and then I’d snatch it. Sometimes I got the hand too. I was quick and it was fun. But the two-leggeds didn’t like it much. Gentle Hands’ mom taught her how to get me to move farther away from the ball, how to be Number Two Alfa. It took a while. It was fun.

I loved soaring through the air to catch a fly ball, catch a line drive, a ball on the bounce, it didn’t matter. I never missed. People at Point Isabel joked about how the Oakland A’s could use me on their team.

I began missing the ball. Sometimes it bounced off my teeth. I didn’t know why. It was very frustrating and unsatisfying. It didn’t feel good. “My sweet Gracie. I think you’re not seeing the way you used to.” She’d hug me and pet me and toss me another ball, close up. Sometimes I still missed it.

One day she said, “Grace, maybe I can get some help for you so you don’t have to suffer. I’m going to journey.”

I had lain on the rug many times when she lay down and journeyed to the spirit world and when she danced and sang. Now, she journeyed to my spirit to ask permission to do healing work for me. The spirits can offer information and help but the journeyer must get a person’s permission to work for them.

The information received is sacred so one must think about whether or not to share this information and if so, why and what part of the information may be shared. Is there a purpose for sharing?

What I’ll tell you now is a compilation of several journeys Sweet-One took to talk with my spirit about healing me. Many aspects are not appropriate for me to discuss so I omit them.

She journeyed and found my spirit who looked different than I do. After a greeting Sweet-One said, “I really want to relieve Grace’s suffering.”

“She’s not suffering.” My spirit said.

“But she doesn’t hear accurately, and she gets scared. She has a heart murmur, the vet says.”

“It’s all stuff-stuff of getting old.” My spirit said.

“I feel like I’m falling asleep.” Sweet-One said.

“Maybe you need to take little naps like we do.” Spirit said.

I rolled over laughing and whapping my tail on the floor. I find the spirits very funny.

“Do you want me to work on you to cure your hearing?” Sweet-One asked.

“No.”

My Sweet-One could not believe her ears. She was shocked. A lengthy discussion followed about why not.

“It seems like you’re suffering because in not hearing accurately you’re fearful.”

“Yes, but this is the way we go. Things deteriorate on the way to death. It’s a natural process.”

“But it’s my job to alleviate suffering.”

“I can see you have a lot of compassion for Grace. You can do the work if you want to.” My spirit said.

“But I want to do what you want.” Sweet-One said.

“You may be doing it for yourself,” she said. “I’m ambivalent. And just so you know, I’m fine.”

“But you seem to be coming to me a lot and asking for reassurance because you’re scared.”

“That’s true,” spirit said. “You can do anything that is loving. I believe this is a loving gesture you’re making. But it’s good to think about this.”

So Sweet-One thought about what my soul told her. She was still shocked that my soul told her, “No.” She had just assumed it would say, “Yes.”

In thinking about it she realized that she was suffering seeing me suffer. She wanted to stop her suffering and mine. It dawned on her that she needed to separate her will from the situation.

She journeyed after that to learn how her will might get in the way of her healing work. She kept thinking about it. One and a half months later she journeyed to my soul again for a teaching on her will and was instructed.


“You can watch me.” My soul said. “I love you.” They floated down a stream together in a canoe watching life happen. “If you watch, you won’t use your will so much. It will just flow.”

A few weeks later she journeyed again. She told my spirit that she realized something. “I know I don’t want Grace to die. I will be so freaked out. I’m frustrated that I can’t understand what’s going on with her. I realize I’m very frustrated and scared.”

“She’s with you all the way. You can just be with her. She loves you and is tuned in to you.” My spirit said.

“But I don’t understand what’s going on with her.” Sweet-One said.

Sometimes two-leggeds are dense. It’s curious. I think they’re not properly equipped to embrace life. But my Number Two, Gentle Hands, understood, maybe because she was young. By the time she was three years old and I was a teenager we knew each other pretty well. She sat and talked with me my whole life. She told me everything.

“Just sit with Grace. Be with her. She just wants to be with you.” My soul said. “She’s talking to you all the time.”

Sweet-One realized she felt helpless. Helpless to relieve my suffering. In the face of that and not understanding, her impetus was strong to do something. Finally, she understood.

From that moment on Sweet-One changed. It would be eight months before I passed. She slowed her walking so that she walked with me, not ahead. She talked with me all the time we walked. She sat with me often and talked with me. She listened to me. She looked into my eyes. And she stroked, petted me and sang my praises. I was in heaven.

She came into rooms I was in, sat on the floor by me and talked with me. These times with my Sweet-One were as joyous as when I was swimming out for a ball she threw into the Bay when I was younger. And these times were different. She really placed her being with mine. It was beautiful. Unexpected. Our relationship, our bond deepened. She was totally with me. The communication was visceral. An unexpected gift of love and pleasure.

When I think about it, my finding her when I was lost on the street was unexpected. I didn’t expect her to say, yes, to keep me. For her, too, I was unexpected, as was her acceptance of me. That my soul said, no, to her request to heal me was unexpected and shocking for her. The stroke I had in the car was unexpected. The unexpected offered so many openings. Look where it took us. To joy. To a teaching about will and healing. To deep pleasure between us. To unfathomed love. All unexpected.

I tell this story to encourage opening to the unexpected. What may seem at first adverse, may, if you open to it, bring unexpected gifts. To joy in each moment. To deep pleasure. To unfathomed love.

I thank you Sweet-One, for making it possible for me to write this.

Grace

Start the Big "R" Relationship...Grace Speaks

Okay, finally I'm back. This is a photo of where Soft-Tone, my two legged, and I walked every day. It was spring when the red-winged blackbirds are singing and flying everywhere. Here, they were flying up from the stacks of haybales the Marina uses to delineate the off leash area for people like me.

The hay bales are great to get the latest news and are distributed end to end around the area. Soft-Tone liked to run on top leaping from one to the next.

Since you know me a little from the previous post, let's jump into the details of getting connected.

Relationships in the Middle World, where you live now, are generally assumed. Unwritten rules, protocol. If you are my friend, a certain kind of behavior is assumed from both of us. If you are my dog, a different but still particular kind of behavior is expected and assumed.

But relationship is an interactive phenomenon we can't assume, or take for granted. If we do, we lose the essence. An opportunity to open. To aquire knowledge. To receive and offer love. Licks. Caring. Relationship is sacred.

How do we get connected? Listen. Listen to the alive beings. Do you have four-legged friends? Two-leggeds? Trees? Plants? Sniff them. Lick them. Circle them. Rub them. Touch them with your nose. Sit with them. Walk with them. Watch them.

Introduce yourself. Ask permission to converse. What are they called? Spirits of all beings have information. You may ask for information. Do you want knowledge? Ancient knowledge. Knowledge of the world, how it works. Help with important issues in you life? I sound like a magic elixir salesperson. Woof!

The spirits of beings living and of those of us who have passed over can give you knowledge, advice, solace.

Let's start slowly. Find a tree you like. In a quiet location. The best will be where there's no human foot traffic. Look at the tree. Notice how beautiful it is. Introduce yourself silently or aloud. (This depends on whether or not you're from California. Woof!)

Tell the tree you'd like to have a conversation and would that be okay? If the tree says, no, you can ask why? Perhaps you can have a conversation some other time. If yes, sit down and ask the tree about its life. What's it doing? How long has it been here? What is its life like? What's its purpose? How does it feel? You can ask anything.

Sitting quietly, talking and listening I predict you will hear surprising things. Let me know if you like.

Yes, I'm teaching you how to connect with spirits. You must be polite, introduce yourself and not assume anything. You don't have to go rushing up, jump into its arms, and start licking it. It will know you're excited about talking with it. And, don't worry, if you converse silently, no passersby will see anything unusual. Slowly, slowly you begin getting connected, beginning a relationship.

Here's a tip. Notice the tree's appearance: its bark (woof), its foliage, its colors, texture, scent. Admire it.

Don't you wonder what and who its seen and heard during its life? What about rarthquakes, sun, rain, hrrricanes, snow, ice fog? How do those feel?

Can you imagine how many living beings we walk by each day? This is making me think of how many rocks and plants I peed on during my life in the Middle World. I had a friend at the dog park, Harry, an airedale. If he saw me pee, he'd trot over and pee on top. Then I'd trot back and pee on top. I loved playing Alpha-Alpha with him. Now I'm in a different state of awareness. The poor plant.

I'm saying that if you can learn not to take any relationship for granted, you will be ecstatic because you will exist in the present moment. Not to assume because when you assume, you're out of the moment. I remember being ecstatic every moment I was in the presence of my Soft-Tone. Unless she was cross and raised her voice. Then I was out the back door. But that didn't last.

It takes practice. I think continuous practice for humans because you're always on to the next thing while you're still doing what you're already engaged in.

Beginning a relationship with the spirit of a living being, not human, you begin a big "R" relationship. Because you begin to take your place in the universe, experience your interconnectedness to all living beings. Your birthright.

I've gotta go. Take a leap. Try it.
Grace

Speaking of Spirits; Let's Get Connected--Grace speaks

Picture me , my nose pointing to the sky, talking, barking excitedly, twirling in circles, smiling past my ears, my eyes sparkling to the stars. I'm howling. Into the deep night, into the universe.

Finally, I'm writing on my two-legged's blog. Yes, it's me in the photographs on the blog.

I'm so excited. I've heard my two-legged talk about how we met thirteen years ago. She says I found her. I did. But she said, "Yes." She didn't have to.

I was trembling, slinking along the sidewalk in front of her house. I had flattened my beautiful black bushy tail up under my belly. I was terrified, on the street, escaped from a bad situation. She pulled up in her car. I stopped and looked at her. When she saw me, she turned off her car and didn't get out. I was freaked out and didn't know where I was. I felt desperate and began following a guy down to the corner. I didn't know what I was doing. I was trying to get safe, I think, but I didn't know how. I was eleven months old.

She got out of her car but when she saw me turn around at the corner and trot back, she got back in her car. Was she afraid of me? She was avoiding me. Something about her caught my interest. I stopped in front of her house and waited.

After a few minutes she got out of her car carrying her groceries and walked past me up the sidewalk and up the steps to her porch. I followed her. Her essence wafted warm and friendly. She set the groceries down and sat on the top step. I stood next to her. I felt good being near her. She looked straight in my eyes and said, "I have been thinking about getting a dog, but I'm not ready yet." She emphasized "have." I lapped her cheek. She said, "Well, okay, you can come in just for a minute."

It was weird inside--all closed in. No sky, no trees or earth to sniff. No cats or canine news. It smelled strange, sort of dead, not like something had died, just weirdly not alive. But so many things smelled like her. It was confusing. Disorienting. Still it was strange and I couldn't see the sky or smell the outside clearly. It was a closed feeling and I wanted to bolt except that she kept talking to me in such a kind way.

She showed me all around the house talking softly to me the whole time. "This is the kitchen, doggie. It's okay, you don't have to be afraid. I don't think you've ever been in a house; have you?"

I heard a song, then a screetch. There were birds in her house! One of them talked like a two-legged! She showed me where they were and I sniffed around the metal cages. She said, "This is Zeus, and this is Rip and Tig." I would come back and look closer at them later.

We went in every room and I sniffed everything. Then she took me out back behind the house. It was all grassy, trees, plants, and great squirrel and cat and bird scents. It was quiet; no cars or street sweepers. The sound of street sweepers terrifies me.

I hadn't planned on telling you all this, but it's pouring out and I think it's good if you know who I am, a little bit at least, because I was just going to leap into the whole spirit world thing and that might have been too much. You'd probably think, "Who is this crazy canine saying all this spirit stuff?"

This way you can get to know me a little and perhaps it'll help you understand some of the things I'm going to tell you. It's hard to contain myself from leaping in though: I'm so excited to be able to talk, finally. My two-legged never knew this but I called her, Sweet Scent, Kind-One, Soft Tone, Smiling-One, Hugger, Funny One, Gentle Hands, Steady Palm, Angel.

Don't get the wrong idea. She wasn't an angel all the time, but neither was I. Perhaps there'll be more on this later.

She called her friend on the phone as I sniffed the kitchen floor. "I found this dog and I don't know what to do. She's really skinny and scared. She looks like she's been on the street for a while. She's really cute."

What her friend said was, "You've been talking about getting a dog, so here she is." Angel discussed this a while, hung up, squatted down and opened her hands to me. I walked over. She stroked my head. Her palm flattened on my head. She left it
"Okay, you can stay for a few days while I look for your people."

I was relieved but I was scared, too. I never wanted to see those people again. They were not my people. I had vowed I would not ever see them again. Never.

That was the beginning of a life long partnership with Angel. Finally. We were connected. It was meant for both of us. But neither of us knew it yet. Oh, there's so much to tell. But I'm I'm going to stop here and consider what I want to say next.

Grace

How Are We Wired?

Can a person exercise compassion and simultaneously wage war? What do you think?

Outside Politics and Into the Portal: A Joyous Journey Begins

When I began this blog I wrote about portals, what they are and how to access them in one's daily life.

Now let's go deeper. What about learning a core shamanic practice? The practice of "journeying."

"Journeying" refers to an altered state of consciousness that some call trance. It is a technique of travelling to non-ordinary reality to communicate with spirit helpers, especially teachers and power animals, primarily to get answers to questions and for healing.

These helpers are viewed as compassionate beings concerned with helping people solve problems, restoring harmony to the individual and to the world. For thousands of years shamans have journeyed to the spirit worlds to get help for others--healing and information. Shamans have traditionally been the people who "journey."

Years ago shamanism was systematically wiped out by many religions and governments around the world. Perhaps because shamans communicate directly with the spirit world, and are thus, outside heirarchies and outside politics, they were perceived as a threat to religions and governments.

But now, with the resurgance of shamanic practice, people other than shamans may learn to "journey." The opportunity to learn how to "journey" for oneself is a sacred gift.

One way a person may learn this ancient practice of "journeying" is by studying with with a shamanic counselor. Although derived from shamanism, the ancient practice of healing and divination, shamanic counseling is different. Unlike shamanism, in shamanic counseling there is no patient to be healed, and the counselor does not "journey" on behalf of the client.

The salient difference is that the counselor teaches the client how to "journey" on their own behalf. The clent learns how to "journey" to non-ordinary reality and with the assistance of spirit helpers they meet there, the client finds their own answers. The client learns a method of problem-solving based on "journeying."


Shamanic counseling is the radical practice of giving the reins to the client, or perhaps it is more accurate to say, "teaching the client to ride with the horse." The shamanic counselor teaches clients how to "journey" to solve their own problems--to find guidance from a compassionate source.

The compassionate beings that inhabit the Upper and Lower Worlds of non-ordinary reality are seen as experts, and in a series of sessions, the counselor teaches the client how to communicate with them directly. From an information exchange point of view, communicating directly with these beings is akin to obtaining information from a library of infinite primary sources. From an experiential point of view, communicating directly with the compassionate beings is thrilling and astounding.

In their "journeys" the client may ask questions about important issues, practical life difficulties, life's mysteries, about problems that the client has worked on but hasn't yet resolved. The client may ask anything and will receive answers.

After the client has mastered the procedures, the counselor encourages the client to practice "journeying" to the Upper and Lower Worlds to seek teachers and power animals. When the client feels comfortable "journeying" alone, they have accepted the reins and ride with the horse. They're on their way to experiencing a relationship with a radically different cosmos. A relationship in which they direct their path in a new way, bringing humane and compassionate solutions and actions to their life and to the world we live in. Compassion starts here. Outside politics. A joyous "journey" begins.

I'd love to read any comments you would like to make on this post or any of the other posts. At the bottom of each post there's a place called "Comments." If you click on that, you can write a comment in the box. When you finish, click on "Publish." That sends the comment to my email address. It does not show up on the Blog. If you'd like your comment to show on the blog, please let me know that and I'll post it under "Comments."
I look forward to hearing from you.


c Alesia Kunz