Monday, September 12, 2011
The Eyes to See Angels by John Deakyne
This is a story about reclaiming something in me that was lost. The idea of going out in the world in order to find "yourself” is a cliché and frequently scoffed at. But there is really nothing greater in this life than finding yourself; to waking up to the truth of your being.
For me, this journey of awakening includes pulling out of my unconscious self the pieces that are ready to come forward. I am talking about the shadow parts that have been suppressed, resisted, and covered over. I have unconsciously kept them in the dark for a myriad of misguided reasons.
We call this process re – membering; that is putting the pieces back together. And I had a powerful remembering, lying on the floor in the darkened sanctuary at Isis Cove, in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina.
In my journey I re-dreamed a dream I had as a little boy in Quincy, Indiana. I could not have been more than five or six. Around that time my family moved to this small town in Southern Indiana and my father took the position of minister to a small town and country church.
We moved into the parsonage across the street. There were six of us in all; my two parents who took the master bedroom, my two older sisters in the other large bedroom, and my little sister was in the extra small bedroom. That left me. There were no more bedrooms so I was put in a baby bed in my father’s study. Not only was I not upstairs with the rest of my family, but I was in the room downstairs that was as far away from the rest of them as I could possibly be. I could not have been more separate from my family if they had consciously tried.
And I was afraid. I was afraid of the dark. I was afraid of the shadows that seemed to animate and move around my father’s study in the darkness. My parents tried to console me with the assurance that I was surrounded by hundreds of angels. But to me, an angel was not a comfort, it was just another disembodied spirit; a spook.
And I had paid enough attention in church to imagine that those angels were in constant conflict with an equal hoard of demons which was hungering to get at me. My darkened bedroom was alive with dueling spirits, swirling shadows, monsters and unnumbered and unnamed things that go bump in the night. I could see them, and even on the hottest summer evening I slept with a blanket over my head. I was well into my adolescence before I ventured to fall asleep with my head uncovered.
That is the backdrop for my dream. I became that small child again, alone downstairs while the rest of my family slumbered somewhere far away. I walked into the dining room which also held the stairway to the upper rooms, but my passage was blocked by a large and fierce looking lion. This was a strong male lion with a full mane, like the ones I had seen on the pages of a children’s Bible storybook.
My fear of the lion was compounded by the presence of a towering masculine angel who seemed to be communing with the beast. The angel had long flowing blonde hair and his aspect was snow white. I don’t remember seeing a sword, but he had a strong presence that held the power of artist’s renderings of the arc angel, Michael.
The lion did not attack me or even come toward me, and the angel never faced me with the full force of his presence while I stood frozen in the doorway. Yet I sensed that they were fully aware of my presence, and now it comes to me that they wanted to make themselves known to me but did not wish to frighten me. Now I know the lion was there to give me his strength and the angel was there to give me his guidance.
But my scared little boy sensibilities did not let the truth of that vision have its desired effect until now, some fifty years later. The little boy came forward from that dream and prayed to God that he would never again be confronted with angels – and the spirits complied. Out of fear, I shut down my ability to see angels. There really were spirits and beings and entities moving around the nighttime shadows of my father’s study, but they obediently hid themselves from me, at my request.
The piece of soul-retrieval here is a profound remembering of why I moved away from my family in the first place. I am the only one of us who ever even left the state of Indiana. It is paradoxical that being separate from my family . . . feels like home. And if my sisters ever need to understand why I live so far away, they need to remember that little boy who was set so far apart, who tried to make his cries heard through a warm air register in the ceiling, so they would tell his mother who might come down and comfort him. I can still hear them yelling crossed the hallway, “Mom, John’s crying.”
I have had some deep healing around that remembering, and now I can recognize that urge in me to be separate (in general) from the ones who love me, especially when things get too comfortable.
And the piece of gold that comes from mining this wound is about my forgotten ability to see angels. I reclaim that gift now, and since having this journey have put the ability to work. When I am allowing, and in certain light, I can see the wings of the people around me. I have practiced this seeing with friends and with people I don’t even know.
You can try this yourself; look at someone and ask yourself, “What would their wings look like?” Don’t try to put wings on them, let their own wings appear. They are there all the time – we just need the eyes to see.
Visit John's blog at: http://sedonawordsmith.blogspot.com/
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Star Wolf's Welcome
My journey in life has been a spiral path of wholeness that continues to move through cycles of change taking me through many symbolic death and rebirth experiences, which I refer to as “shamanic portals of transformation.” I have learned more than I ever thought possible through a process I will share with you in my future writings, called the Shamanic Breathwork™ process, and the five initiations process called S.H.I.P. Once I have made sense of the lessons on my path and discovered the bigger picture, I am ready to pass on and share both my stumblings and my leaps along the way. In my own spiritual quest, I have always appreciated most those who shared their struggles and victories in an authentic way. That will be my humble attempt within the context of this blog.
I believe that we are all indigenous to this earth. I respect all my relations, whether they be human, animal, plant, mineral, visible or invisible ones. We are all related by the great web of life and sent here from the great beyond. Everything we say and do touches all parts of this magnificent web of creation. If I treat myself or anyone else unfairly, we are all affected in some way. Fortunately, the converse is true, as well. I am not perfect. If I am honest and have humility, I can admit that I will make mistakes as I seek to further evolve my conscious awareness. I can also make living amends by striving to change my negative thoughts and behaviors, and live from a more open-hearted connection to others and to myself. I have learned over time that all the changes I seek in the outer world must begin by looking within myself first. I have also learned that it is imperative that I have the courage to be honest with myself and to look at the “shadow” side of my personality. When I have had the courage to truly know myself better, the light and the dark, I have found the inner strength to change my life and shape-shift myself into the light of my true soul’s image.
From time to time I will share different programs and events that are being offered through my non profit organization (Venus Rising Institute for Shamanic Healing Arts) in my blog, as well as photos, videos and teachings, etc. But the main purpose of this blog is to provide an outlet to share the inner musings of my shamanic spirit and journey, and to hear yours as well. I look forward to connecting with all of you who intuitively know that you, too, are a valuable part of the shamanic process of conscious co-creation and evolution on the planet at this time. We each have a role to play and a soul purpose in the drama unfolding in our world today. Together we can create a better place for all beings on earth to live and leave a powerful legacy for those who are yet to come.
I believe we will all be remembered by future generations for the choices we make during this time of huge evolutionary change. In the words of the wonderful poem, “Summer Day,” by Mary Oliver, “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
In Love, In Service, In Gratitude,
Feb 2nd 2009