Dancing the Shamanic Jitterbug

Well, I have survived my first book reading, and I am happy to report, I actually had fun!

When I arrived at SoulFood Books in Redmond, and toted in my shamanic gear, I got my first look at where I would be reading, and seriously questioned if I knew what I was doing. For some reason I had imagined that I would be ensconced in an armchair somewhere among the bookshelves (perhaps I had delusions of being Alistair Cook on PBS). Instead I was led over to the café area and a STAGE, complete with a chair, spotlights, and a microphone on a stand. More the kind of setup I would expect for a musician, rather than an author, and indeed there was a guitar case lurking nearby.

So riveted was I by the idea of having to appear on that stage that I completely overlooked the overhead sign announcing “Rose De Dan, Author.” If I had not been so deer-in-the-headlights I might have taken a moment to appreciate the first-time joy of seeing my name, if not in lights, at least paired on a chalkboard with the lovely title “author” for all to see. Instead I can thank Rhonda Hanley, who documented the evening photographically, for the opportunity to at least savor it in private later.

While setting up and greeting some familiar faces kind enough to support me on this maiden venture as an author, I recalled a long-ago experience as a child, my first and last voluntary venture onto the stage as a performer.

My best friend at the time thought it would be a great idea for us to participate in the church play. Never shy, Lisa painted a rosy picture of the fun we would have. The reality of it was entirely different for me, merely setting foot on stage, even for rehearsals, raised my normally shy nature into the realm of the panic-stricken, rendering me completely wooden as an actress.

I do not recall the name of the play, but I do recall my part, a little old lady who knitted and was blind as a bat. My stage fright was so bad that they put scotch tape over the prop glasses that I wore in order to take away most of my ability to see the audience. It also made it more believable when I stumbled into things, as my character was supposed to do. I can clearly recall understanding at the time that my character was important to the play in her physical comic relief, and knowing that I was unable to loosen up enough to deliver, never mind being able to say my lines in any relaxed or funny fashion.

The night of the play’s actual performance passed in a blur, my lines (mercifully few) were inaudible and no one laughed at the parts of my performance that should have been funny as I am certain everyone could see me shaking with sheer nerves. It was a wonder at the time to me that I did not actually throw up. I felt very clearly that a career as an actress was not my path, and promised myself to never attempt something like that again.

It was ironic to me in those moments setting up that—despite having engaged in one of the world’s most solitary pastimes, writing—I now found myself on stage—and on stage, alone. It was a one-woman show, or was it?

Didn’t I now have years of Reiki and shamanic training and teaching under my belt? Hadn’t I done major personal healing work, and wasn’t I a different person now than that poor, terrified child who had wanted to have some fun on stage? And wasn’t my mesa with me, all those many stone friends connected to places of power such as oceans, earth, mountains, rivers, and so on? And wasn’t She Walks there, spirit guide who takes up residence in a bobcat pelt when visibility is needed? I was not alone on stage—I had the entire Peruvian and Reiki lineage standing with and behind me. As a matter of fact, now the stage seemed smaller than before—would there be enough room for all of us?

Suddenly it was time to start, and as I sat down in the chair and faced the audience fully, for the first time, I felt my sense of humor bubble up, and I could not resist smiling at them, and sharing, “I feel like I should have a guitar in my hand.” They all laughed, breaking the ice, and I took my first tentative steps into the world of book and shamanic performance art.

I had chosen five pieces from “Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism” to read, and began with “Two Dogs,” a relatively simple story, but powerful in its message that if we focus on our hearts we can communicate with other species.

The audience seemed attentive, so heartened I launched into “As the Stomach Churns,” and while I read I made a conscious decision to lighten up and let that small child finally have her fun on stage. The piece, if told well, is humorous, and I began to focus on the funny parts, playing with timing and delivery, and lo and behold, they laughed, in all the right places! I could feel that inner child smile.

I followed with “The House That Love Built,” the story of the death of my father and the events of 9-11 that followed directly afterward. I had never read this piece out loud before, and I suddenly found myself connecting emotionally with a part in the story regarding my father, you could clearly hear the tears in my voice. I could feel the audience respond sympathetically, and I thought frantically, “I can’t cry onstage!” I took a deep breath and there was a significant pause as I grounded and rebalanced myself, and then, bless the universe and the spirits, into that emotional pause burst the outrageously loud sound of the expresso machine being turned on. The timing was so perfectly absurd that everyone laughed, including me, the tension broke, and I was able to continue without incident.

It was with the fourth piece, “Guns and Mesas” that I had originally determined to include something that I suppose I can call shamanic performance art. The first part of the story involves my detainment at the airport while returning East, four months after my father’s death, for my youngest sister Claudine’s wedding. As I read the part in the story where my shamanic items are lifted from my travel bag to be inspected by airport security, I physically brought same items forth on stage: first, She Walks’ pelt, then my mesa, and finally my Florida Water.

Now for the climactic part, the shamanic wedding blessing I gave at my sister’s wedding. With a swirl I donned my shamanic cloak and gave the actual blessing, all while juggling microphone, bottle of Florida Water, and gourd rattle. That was actually the hardest part, to remember to shake the rattle, and not the microphone, all while speaking, and blowing sprays of Florida Water. I can honestly say it was a challenge, but it seemed to come off fairly well.

I concluded with a relatively sedate piece, “At the Edge of Two Worlds,” which paints a picture of the beauty of the Alki shore and the awe I felt in my encounter with two seal pups I met there, and then opened the floor to questions.

The audience was very supportive and curious, and thanks to insightful questions from people that knew me, some of whom were also mesa carriers, I think that the rest of the audience learned a few things about the nature of shamanism and its relationship to the natural and spirit world. By this time I was feeling a lot more comfortable, and why not, wasn’t all of my shamanic gear spread around me? With my mesa open the spirit world was having a party on stage, it was getting quite lively.

Then, for me, the best part of the evening happened. As I was packing up, a woman who had asked me questions about a stone that she had found that insisted on coming home with her, approached and asked if she could touch She Walks. I told her I had to ask permission, and when I did She Walks said, “Hand me to her.” As the woman took her she cradled She Walks in her arms, holding her lovingly, and began stroking her soft fur. Then she looked up at me, eyes wide, but shining with the light of discovery, and exclaimed, “It’s like she’s alive! It’s like she’s breathing!” And I smiled back at her with answering joy and delight, for I well remembered my first connection with the being I call She Walks and how that changed my life. So taken was the woman with the energy that I had to gently extract She Walks in order to finish packing.

So, I feel that my first book reading was a great success. I literally brought who I was to the stage, both personally and professionally, and the audience responded by embracing that energy. My inner child is still dancing with delight; it appears that we have now transformed the "First-Time Book Reading Jitters" into the Shamanic Jitterbug!

It Takes A Cat to Create A Village

It is with deep sorrow that I announce the passing of a truly great personality and personal friend, Gracie the cat.

Last night, at about midnight, there came a knock on my door. It was my neighbor Casey, and she was obviously in distress. Apparently Gracie had been found in a neighbor’s yard after having been missing for several days, and she was not looking good. Casey said she did not think Gracie would last the night and asked if I would come and see her. In my official capacity as an animal energy healer I would have done this anyway, but as Gracie and I had shared special moments as friends I immediately replied that I would be there.

While I gathered my mesa and other healing tools together I reflected on our friendship. Gracie had the most open and trusting heart of anyone I had ever met. Everyone, friend or stranger, was greeted with joy by Gracie. Apparently she had never met someone she did not want to know, and in conversation with the neighbors I discovered that she literally knew more people on the block than any of us did (see Gracie the Cat Star). She would run down the sidewalk or cross the street to greet you, meowing in welcome, and when she reached you there would be purring and great affectionate gestures. If you were really open to her, and willing to crouch down a bit to her level, she would make her way into your lap, eventually placing herself across your shoulder, rumbling purr vibrating in your ear. A little kneading to soften you up further, and when you were putty in her capable feline paws, she would drape herself, like a boa, around your neck.

When she was in need of healing she would instigate a variation on this theme (see Gracie the Cat and Fireworks); she would lie in wait outside my house, and when she had my attention she would curl herself up in my arms, tuck her head under my chin, and get as close to my heart chakra as possible. At those times I could feel how open she was; Gracie was 8 lbs. of unconditional love, and my feelings of affection for her would just well up.

As I recalled her energy, her sunny disposition, and the many memories I had of her including my recent pajama-clad photo shoot of Gracie (see Gracie by Morning Light) I felt fear that she might be lost to us. What would we all do without her?

As I entered Casey’s house to see if there was anything I could do to help Gracie I made a deliberate effort to put those fears and memories aside so that I could best be a hollow bone for the healing energy that she would need. At my first sight of her my heart sank into my feet, she could barely raise her head, and she seemed very out of touch with her surroundings. As I knelt by the chair I acknowledged that we might lose her and put that feeling aside.

And then it happened—Gracie broke through my hard-won professional balance. She heard my voice; the voice of the person who had always helped her when she had been sick in the past, and although she was very weak, she began to crawl toward my heart chakra which was level with her on the chair. As I leaned forward to meet her Gracie shoved her face into my chest and wrapped her right paw around my bare arm, claws digging into my skin and leaving marks, and she hung on for dear life like someone drowning, I could feel the tension and the fear in her and there was no purring this time. At her demonstration of complete trust in me I felt my heart break into little pieces, and I had to put that aside, too. Gracie needed me.

As I began to assess her energetically I could feel some strange kind of disturbance in her upper energy field, something like disconnected signals. I dimly registered that information and continued looking for what might be causing the problem. She did not appear to have any external injuries, there was some evidence of what was probably arthritis (Gracie was 13), but nothing jumped out at me for what could cause these symptoms, and it became clear to me that Gracie was not going to be able to tell me, Whatever was going on was causing her ability to communicate to break down.

At this point I needed to open my mesa and turn the session over to the universe. When in doubt my philosophy has always been to get out of the way and let the energy and the client dialogue. It is then that miracles can occur.

It became very clear to me that I could not disengage Gracie to open my mesa in order to open sacred space, thereby create a place for healing between the worlds (consensual reality and the spirit world; this is the realm of the shaman). Gracie made it very clear that physical contact was emotionally important to her, and she wanted to be able to draw on the Reiki energy freely. I had to ask Casey to open my mesa and to distribute the stones in a circle around Gracie and I. It is a tribute to my mesa that it allowed this, as the general rule is that no one handles the mesa except the shaman.

As Casey distributed the stones, and the rest of her family watched quietly, the energy began to build. Search as I might I could not see a thread of possibility that led to Gracie surviving this, but neither could I find certainty that she would not. I set my intention for her highest healing good, allowing the shamanic energy to enfold both of us, opening my feelings, feeding the energy with my love for her, and at the same time attempting to put aside my fear of loss.

I performed a Reiki attunement for her, re-connecting her fully to Source for her highest mental, emotional, physical and spiritual well-being, and I could gradually feel the tension in her body ease, her fear subside. She entered a trance-like stage of healing where I sensed her soul journeying through the universe. Her breathing slowed, and I wondered if possibly she might choose to use the energy to leave her body permanently. As I had no idea of the outcome I clearly set intent for her to receive whatever she needed. I built a Bridge of Light for her so that whenever it was her time to leave she might do so in as joyful and a painless a fashion as possible, and then be met and guided to wherever she was to go next.

When we finished Gracie was calm, but still clearly not right. Realizing that we had done all that was possible, it was now time to get her to a vet.

As Gracie drove off with her family my heart was heavy with the sense that I might never see her in body again. When I re-entered my house my animals clearly picked up on how I was feeling and decided that it was time to lighten me up. So, at 1:00 a.m. we had a silly play session, re-affirming our connection to one another and joy in life. When I finally crashed for the night all the cats snuggled up with me, blanketing me in care and concern.

I woke up once during the night with the sense that something had happened, but it was not until after noontime that I learned that Gracie had passed. All tests at the Burien emergency clinic showed no elevated levels of anything, however her behaviors indicated neurological compromise, and the conclusion was that Gracie had a brain tumor. With great difficulty her family made the decision to humanely euthanize her.

When Casey called me the next day I heard in her voice that my worst fear was confirmed—Gracie was gone. A part of me was glad that she would not continue to suffer as she clearly had been; another part keened in grief at the thought that she would never wrap her paws around me again. It was as though for me a light had gone out in the world.

Casey shared with me some of Gracie’s early life. Apparently Casey and her then-husband had been looking to adopt from the shelter. Casey said she did not see Gracie because she is short, and Gracie was in a top cage, but her tall husband saw this paw reaching out at them, and suggested they check out the eager cat.

In the petting room Gracie leapt from one lap to the next in a frenzy of affection. She had been found behind a building with her kittens and was about one year-old. The kittens were weaned and Gracie needed some more beings to love. Casey and her husband complied and adopted her.

So, how did an unwanted stray with no place to raise a family maintain an unlimited amount of trust in the goodness of the universe and the kindness of mankind? I have no idea, I only know that Gracie is my hero. As the neighbors and I carried the news of her passing from one house to the next, and stories were shared, I realized that Gracie, a small gray and white tabby of unknown origins, had woven a thread of friendly connection through a block of disconnected people simply through the power of her unconditional love. One little cat created a village.

Good-night, Gracie, may your legacy of love live on.

In memory of Gracie I invite you to post your comments and share your memories of Gracie here, or perhaps you have stories of other animals who have inspired or blessed your life like Gracie blessed ours.

There will be a Peruvian despacho ceremony held at Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC for all friends of Gracie once her ashes are returned. A death despacho is a beautiful celebration of the life of the individual and all participants get to share in the ceremony and add their prayers and memories. A notice will be sent out at that time.