Some might have been coming from us; we acknowledged that,
for we felt traumatized by the move, but
there was more.
We knew something
uncomfortable was coming from the Island that we could not explain.
We called
it negative energy.
I even tried
meditating in our back five acres one day to see if I could get some
understanding. You meditate with your eyes closed right? So I sat down, and a
minute later, I said, “Nope,” and left. That was not the place to do it.
Last night
while reading Steven Pressfield’s book Turning
Pro, I got a hit, something that related to our Island experience.
Pressfield had
a chance to travel to Africa. One of his stops was at a Masai camp so far from
civilization that they had to fly there.
When they got to
the camp, a great commotion was happening. Their guides explained to Pressfield
that the Shaman had told the people that the site they had just chosen was “unwholesome”
and that they had to move.
The camp consisted
of about five hundred people, young, old, children, plus all their livestock,
so moving was no small feat.
The moving
procession had to be led by the white cows, and they were scattered about, so the
warriors set out to round them up. The women had to pack up all the household
belongings. All this required sweat and sacrifice.
Yet, no one
complained.
When the whole
camp was packed, the warriors, those tall, slim morans, were jumping up and down and singing their ritual song. The
young maidens sang the chorus.
Finally they
moved.
About two hundred
yards up the hill.
Pressfield
began to wonder what invisible evil could be warded off by moving the camp. Did
this make sense? And he admitted that he felt better after the move. Would
something had befallen the tribe had they stayed? Would a young bride have
miscarried?
These people had
a brilliant culture, their dress, their rituals, their social organization. The
young men, strong and beautiful could stand up to lions single handed, with only
a spear.
Pressfield concluded that they must be doing
something right.
He wished he
had his own Shaman. He said he would have breakfast with him every day and do
what he said.
Or better yet,
he wished he was a Shaman.
I wished, as did Pressfield that I had a
personal Shaman to guide me, but I know that one of the lessons of life is to
trust and follow your own intuition, your own guidance system.
And that
perhaps we do have a Shaman. It lives inside of us and speaks in a small voice.
