Shamanic Conversion

I am in need of a shamanic conversion.  Or at least, a visit to somewhere outside myself whenever I get tired of being inside this body of mine.  This broken down racked with pain that can’t be controlled body of mine.  This constipated, stiff, going deaf body of mine.  This seldom had a healthy day body of mine.  My soul wants to be elsewhere.  I have actually been there before.  I have met my guides, I know who they are, but calling on them has become harder and harder.  And I'm still having withdrawal symptoms, as I wrote about earlier.  The fun never stops!

I would vacate this body quickly and permanently if I knew for sure it would be okay to do so.  In a heartbeat.  In a New York minute.  Anytime. Ready, get set…..stop.  Stop. I always stop.  Why?  Why do I stop?  Fear of having to come back to the desolate, ugly world again.  And again.  To learn what I didn’t learn this time, or the time before that.  Maybe things just get harder each time you fail to learn what brought you here.  Of course, even if we are “successful” whatever that means for you, how can we be sure we achieved our purpose?  How do we even know what that purpose is?   Sometimes, some of us think we know.  But do we?  Who’s to say?

I feel like I want to go back in time and correct all the mistakes, all the decisions, all the everything of my life.  While I do not blame myself for having this disorder, I do blame myself for not be stronger.  People tell me how strong I am, but I don’t feel it.  All I feel now is pain.  If being strong is defined by staying in a life of pain, then I guess I am strong, but I doubt that is the definition.  Strong is moving forward in spite of whatever challenges one faces.  Strong is grabbing on to life, whatever it brings you.  I did not do that.  I shrank from life, from the pain, from the challenges my body gave and continues to give to me.  Disorders, diseases and disorganized thinking.  Maybe that should be my epitaph.

I used to think there is no excuse for boredom; there is always something to do…read a book, write, watch a movie, meditate, call on my helpers.  For me, that’s about it, but it all takes up the time.  It’s getting harder and harder to pull off, though, and I dread the coming winter.  My poor hummingbirds are battling for the sugar water and Oliver is losing his mind watching them.  Watching them has gotten boring. I am definitely losing what little mind I have left.  I just watched a documentary on Joni Mitchell through Netflix.  Fabulous story for those of us who grew up with her by our side.  Maybe that is why I am blue.  So much time gone by, so little to show for it.

Here’s to you, Ms. Mitchell, who gave the world the most fabulous music, poetry and paintings you could ever hope for.  And in one person.