Divine Journeys is now…
Shift happens! The only sure thing is change…
Ten years ago I decided that it was time to offer my work to the world. I needed, among other things, a name. I needed a name that described what I had to offer my community. I had sacrificed nights and weekends to attend a year long school of medicinal herbalism. I had wandered the woods, getting to know these plants in a personal way. I had spent many years immersing myself in the practice of shamanism. I had attended hundreds of hours of workshops from the Foundation for Shamanic Studies. I had studied at the feet of several amazing shamans. I had read dozens of books. I had gained a deep relationship with my own Guides and was in touch with the wisdom they had to offer. It was time!
“Coincidences” are messages from the Universe, I believe. There are no accidents. I was pondering a name for my beautiful, sunny healing room/classroom on my small farm. In the mail a notice arrived, notifying me that my mailing address was going to be changed. The new name of the road I lived on???
A friend said “How can you ignore that?” How indeed? Divine Journeys. Divine: of Spirit, and the name of my road. Journeys: a primary tool of the shaman. Perfect. And it was, for close to ten years. But I have evolved, my practice has expanded, and I have moved away from Divine Drive.
I have ventured deeply into the realm of Plant medicine, not simply herbs as commodities for human health, but as co-habitants of our Earth. I have surrendered my will to Teacher Plants, and have had doors open that I did not know where even there. I have spent countless hours acting as a channel for healing, with individuals and in Ceremony with community. I have taught others and been taught.
I have lived deeply and intimately with the Land and many plants, insects and animals. I learned first hand about the circle of life, planting, birthing, gathering, foraging, harvesting. I have understood the immense honor and horror of knowing the face of my food. I have uncovered the comforting lies of the mono-cultured supermarket.
My Guides show me magical images that the artist in me hungers to bring into this dimension.They show me these images in night dreams and day dreams. I have painted drums, wired together beautiful bones into jewelry, cradled skulls in my hand to honor them with painted symbols.
Shifting sand under my feet- both uncomfortable and exciting. Once again I needed a name. I needed a name that described what I now wish to contribute to my community. One day, I was gently cupping a Coyote skull in my hands, in order to draw a shaman’s hand upon it. I was recently returned from another Journey with a Plant Teacher, and needed quiet space to integrate. Playing in the background was a CD by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of “Women Who Run with the Wolves”. She was telling the story of La Loba, the Wolf Woman.
La Loba is an old Crone woman, who lives alone in the wild. Every day she scours the Land for the bones of animals. La Loba especially seeks the bones of Wolves. These bones she brings back to her home. When La Loba has a complete skeleton, she lays it out under the moon and sings a song. As she sings, the Earth shakes and the dismembered bones begin to regain flesh and fur. Finally, the animal draws breath and runs aways, fully alive. If the re-membered skeleton is a complete Wolf, she runs under the moonlight and Wolf becomes a laughing Wolf Woman. This woman goes into the world to teach others about their own wild nature.
Sitting there, recovering from a deep session with a Plant teacher, painting the hand of the shaman onto the skull of the Coyote, I began to cry. This is the whole of the process. We must find our bones- gather the hard, unchangeable pieces of ourselves that remain even after the flesh has been ripped off by living. When we find all of our pieces, and we are ready, we can sing our soul-song. We can pour out all that is within us, under the light of the moon. And sometimes, if we get it right, we re-member ourselves. We remember our wild nature. We might run, laughing, into the night, reborn.
“I can feel it in my bones” we say. The place that knows about the trees, the river, the language of the birds. The energy of the Thunderbeings, the soft whisper of the Corn mothers. Yes indeed. The Land is waiting for us to find all the pieces of ourselves again. Waiting for us to remember and be re-membered. A name had found me, again. La Loba Earth Medicine.
Divine Journeys will begin to migrate over to the new site LaLobaEarthMedicine in the coming weeks. I am grateful for everyone who has supported me and the ways of herbs and Spirit over the years. AHO!