Posts

Fifth Chapter: Canyon Lands Healing Ceremony

In this fifth chapter of “Stories My Drum Told Me,” Grace is invited to a healing ceremony in the Unseen World Canyon Lands. When she arrives, she meets Koktswea, who helps her release the feelings of shame, failure and regret that she had been carrying within her. As the ceremony unfolds, Grace learns the connection between her willingness to let go of her suffering and the beauty of desert canyon walls.

May you feel the compassion and joy of Canyon Lands Healing Ceremony

You will find links to my earlier chapters: Stories My Drum Told Me.

I hope you are enjoying these stories drawn from my shamanic journey practice. I offer them in love and joy.

Nancy

Fourth Chapter: Tending the Being of Humanity

In this fourth entry in “Stories My Drum Told Me,” Maya is invited to join The People who use song and vibration to nurture the very young Being of Humanity. Her guide explains how difficult it is for the human species to find our place within the web of life, because we are so very young, not much more than toddlers among the ancient life forms of the Earth.

“Every time a new voice or a new instrument is added to this song of blessing, it becomes more beautiful, and more powerful,” Maya was told. “The Being of Humanity will experience the richness you add.”

I hope that you enjoy reading: Tending the Being of Humanity

Peace and Joy,


Nancy

Third Chapter: Reclaiming Energy That Harms

The third entry in “Stories My Drum Told Me,” is about a ceremony used to reclaim projections, assumptions, judgements and other thought energies that we send out toward others without thinking about it. The practice described here helps each of us take personal responsibility
for these thought arrows and call them back from anywhere they have interfered with another person’s well-being. As the energy of these thought forms returns, it is transformed back to its pure form to nurture both our own life and the life of the planet.

I hope you enjoy reading, Reclaiming Energy That Harms. 

You will find links to my earlier stories on the page: Stories My Drum Told Me.

Peace and Joy in the unfolding of your life,

Nancy

Do Not Save the Structures

“Do Not Save These Structures. Save as Many Lives and As Much Beauty as You Can.”

That is the sign I want to put on the front fence this fire season. It is partly because the structures here are old and weary, and are far beyond their prime. It is partly because I don’t want anyone to risk life or health in a building that might let a foot slip between the boards or the ceiling drop from above. Even more, these human-made shelters and the collected stuff that they hold are trivial. The lives of families, friends and neighbors, creatures and trees are much more precious.

If the fires do come, they may bring the gift of emptying, so that something new can enter in. I have learned “Letting go into emptiness” from the Moon. She is in a perpetual cycle of emptying to her New form and then being filled to Full Moon glory. It is an irresistible pattern, like the waves crashing into the shore and then receding back into the sea. It is like the movement of tides within the ocean and the flow of blood in our bodies. The heart pumps itself empty, moving the blood out to the furthest cells, and then the blood returns to fill the heart and be renewed.

I have experienced times of selling and giving away much of what we owned to open the way for the next stage of our life. When we left Arizona it was in a truck with a camper shell and a small U-haul trailer. I let go of my life as a United Methodist clergywoman and we headed to a small town on the Oregon coast. I became a student of holistic health and worked at the front desk of a bed and breakfast for a year. Oregon provided a pause time while we waited to see what would emerge next.

About ten years later I did it again. I walked away from co-leading The Still Point Zen Practice Center which Bill and I had started in Chico. I knew it was time to let go of the roles and tasks of teaching and guiding others. I spent hours walking the trails on nearby wild hillsides. Nature was all that made sense and the relationship with the earth held me as I waited to see what was next.

What opened up was a major shift to bookbinding and book repair. I took courses in Telluride, Colorado and developed a small business working with my hands. I enjoyed the experience of reviving old books and binding Bill’s published writings. It was creative and different. I followed instructions, measured carefully, learned skills with specific tools and created beautiful books.

Then, four years ago, it happened again. We realized that it was time to make the next major step in simplifying our lives. We left the three-bedroom house we were renting and move into a motor home. In preparation, we held a Potlatch-style sale in which we accepted any offer made for any item. We let everything go, down to what would fit the Subaru and headed to Arizona to find our house on wheel. We kept a small storage unit for the year we were gone, but it held mainly my bookbinding equipment that I was not yet ready to release. When we settled back here that was all donated to a college.

Having experienced these cycles, of willingly letting go of as much of my stuff as possible prepares me for the inevitable times when I will lose everything when I least expect it. I know how it feels to be empty. I know the pause when there is only open space and uncertainty. I recognize the thrill of simple things moving back in, whether new tasks or new clothes.

I have packed three boxes of my own things to grab if we have to evacuate due to fire this summer. I look at the rest of my possessions to consider what I release to the thrift shop and what to take to the dump. There are also the things I enjoy having, but do not have to have. I will appreciate them more knowing they may be temporary gifts. I can willingly release several more boxes of things just to practice holding everything and everyone I love in soft open hands.

Then, I can know that whether of not there is a sign on the fence, the time may come when everything here will go or stay, not by the will of the fire department, but by the movement of the wind. I do not know how empty I need to be at this point in my life. I do know that all that matters are the people I love, our neighbors both human and creature, and the freedom to flow with the natural unfolding of this wonderful land.

Fluid By Nature

(This part of the collection of “Stories My Drum Told Me.” Over time these will come together to form a book.)

Amy enjoyed her early mornings, walking the half mile from her home down to the beach. On this early spring day she bundled up in wool pants and a sweater, knotting a woven scarf around her neck to keep out the chill.

She often found the beach deserted at this time of day. The fisherman were already out in their boats, and people in the village were preparing for their day of work. It was good to get away from the growing tension in her little community. It felt like every few days there was a new challenge to deal with. Visitors stopped coming and shops closed. Farmer’s market items became rare as larger towns claimed the area’s produce for themselves. The elders were finding it hard to cope with the rate of change in the outside world. The young just wanted things to go back to normal.

Amy’s body braced against every conversation, creating a knot in her throat and an empty feeling in her belly. She shared the feeling of just wanting all of the changes to stop for a while so she could catch her breath. That was why these walks were so important to her. They gave her the chance to rest in a soothing connection with the sea.

This isolated patch of beach was a feast for her senses. Out beyond the breakers the sea shimmered with the light of a million stars. The white caps sprang into high plumbs, splashed upon the shore and scuttled back outward revealing cinnamon-colored sand. Within each wave swirled the colors of life, the water and sky blending into a rich blue-green. The tendrils of kelp and the swimming forms of fish added accents of gold.

The air was a mixture of moisture and salt. The seaweed added the tang of something old to the sharpness of the sea spray. The ground beneath her feet was a perfect sponge of cool water and warm sand. The wind ran its fingers through her hair, tousling it affectionately. She smiled, remember how her grandmother ruffled her curls when she was little.

She was captivated by the sound of the waves. It had an uneven rhythm that reminded her of a heart-beat. There were pauses between the long, loud, “CHAAA” of a wave breaking against the shore and the low “Shhh,” of the sea pulling it back home.

As she watched, one wave stopped at a few hundred yards from where she stood. The outdrawn ebb of the next wave joined it and climbed on its back. The next wave stopped there as well, not a ripple reaching the shore. In a few minutes, wave upon wave had come to a halt and climbed the crest of this single wave. It seemed fifty feet high and stood absolutely still, frozen in time with just a hint of a curling at its top edge.

Amy’s heart raced, but she could not tell if it was terror or wonder that held her anchored in place. Her mind told her that at any moment this curved wall of water would come to life and crash down upon her, and then sweep away everyone and everything in the village beyond. She watched the very crest of the wave, waiting for the first hint that it was about to break. But the minutes went by and the wave stopped growing, now content to hold the new waves out to sea behind it.

Finally, a deep resonate voice spoke from within the wall of water:

I am water in wave form. I flow where the energy around me tells me to go. I am shaped and formed by air and earth, warmth and wind. My being is not expressed in the same way twice. Every wave and every current are unique. In the midst of all of this change, I remain true to my own fluid nature. I move and shift, filling and then emptying, rushing in and then ebbing back, wave into ocean and ocean into wave.

I am showing you the energy that your mind claims to want. This is what it looks like when change stops and life stands still. A wall forms when emptying does not follow filling, and life energy is withheld rather than given. One whose nature is to be fluid and flowing becomes rigid and threatening. It is uncomfortable and you might even say, “Wrong.”

You have forgotten that you are as fluid and flowing as I am. You are created for constant transformation. You are releasing cells and creating new ones; letting go of old ideas and discovering broader ways of seeing. The surge of discovery and amazement rush into the opening of “I have no idea!” You are always evolving, changing and being made new. This is the deeper nature that we share.

When you are afraid of the changes in your world, do not go stiff and rigid. Remember your fluidity.

As these last words floated away on the breeze, the wall of water began to release its form. Rather than crashing to the shore, it allowed the pull of the ocean to reclaim it. In the rhythm and pattern of ordinary waves, this impossible counter-tide reduced the terrifying wall of water to a normal swell. Amy watched this, delighting in the playfulness of the Mystery. She swayed to the gentle motion of the waves on the shore, feeling her mind and body relax. When it was time to go home, she bowed deeply to the ocean, thanking her wave friends for the gifts they had shared.

Earth Breathing at the Beginning of the Day

In these days of transition and transformation, many of us are focusing on the world we want for our grandchildren. For me, it is a life of freedom, joy and harmony within the human family and throughout the web of life.

Drawing from my shamanic journey practice, and my use of the Bön Chant, I weave my stories with images, wisdom and grace from the unseen and timeless world. Many times I feel that I am receiving support, love and guidance from my helping Ancestors and beloved Descendants. These stories are my gift back to them. I envision them being told by a storyteller as, “Stories My Drum Told Me.”

(Author’s Note: The Women of the Open Sky appear in a number of the stories in this book. They are amazing teachers about the unseen, Ultimate reality that exists just beyond the range of our ordinary perception. They are the Elder Women, who abiding in that reality, express it in their thoughts and actions throughout the day.)

Earth Breathing at the Beginning of the Day

sunrise-1362773

I woke at 4:30am and felt an instinctive pull to get out of bed and go outside. A flash of thought, “It is nearing mid-summer and there are only a few more minutes when the moon and stars will be visible,” launched me out of bed.

I put on my thick terrycloth bathrobe and my outdoor clogs and turned off the outside light. Stepping onto the porch, I let my eyes adjust to the pale light in the sky. Then, one by one, the last of the nighttime stars glistened into view. I love these moments, when all is still, just before the first birds begin to twitter and sing to the new day.

After a few minutes of drinking in the beauty and singing greetings to the moon, I went back inside. It was time for the morning rituals of washing my face, brushing my teeth and putting on outdoor clothes against the chill of the morning. This always wakes me up and lets my senses open to the wonders that surround me. But this morning felt different. There was a stirring along my spine that usually alerts me to watch for something new.

Walking toward my chair at the top of the meadow, I looked up at the ridge of hills that rise just a mile away. There, silhouetted against the first pale light of dawn, were a row of women in long shirts. I recognized them as The Women of the Open Sky. They are Elders from the distant past, who come to teach me the ancient wisdom that helps hold the world together. The sight of them always makes my heart leap with joy.

I bypassed the chair and headed straight to nearest hill. I had already passed that beautiful vale between “real life and the unseen mystery,” so it only took me a dozen steps to climb to the ridge. The woman who greeted me this morning was from one of the early North American tribes. She reminded me of the Hopi women I met when I lived in Arizona.

“We want you to see why we come here every morning to greet the new day and to celebrate the openness of the sky,” she told me. Her dark eyes were filled with playfulness and delight. I was about to be let in on a secret, and I could hardly wait.

“Just watch and see what we experience as we chant. We will only use the sound of spaciousness this morning. It will be enough,” she said, turning to face the East and the approaching light of the sun.

I heard them sing “Ahh” in a full rich alto pitch. They would breathe in together, and then release this one syllable in a long, gentle flow. Their chant was full and strong, its vibration riding the wind for miles.

At first, I didn’t notice anything but the beautiful sound of their voices. It was like hearing the ringing of an ancient temple bell and feeling the waves of sound moving outward to encircle the Earth and flow out into the Universe.

Then, as I watched, the scene before me began to shift. I noticed it first in the pine trees and oaks that fill the downhill slope to the east of the hill. They were always vague in outline in the early light, but today, every needle, every leaf and every tree seemed to drift away from one another. My attention flew to the space between the solid forms, and I was captivated by the vast openings appearing in what I had always seen as a dense forest.

I heard the women’s voices again, and watched the tone moving on the wind like waves. This rippling movement was filling the spaces around all of the rocks and trees, plants and animals to reveal a wide open plain, right there within the forest.

Then their pitch shifted a bit. I stopped being able to see distinctive leaves or needles, even on the trees closest to me. It was like taking off my glasses and having the outlines blur into soft shapes, with each form also looked bigger than it had been.

Each time the women repeated this tone, this process of growing larger and more subtle in outline continued. Then, my breath caught in my throat as my mind explained what I was seeing. Every cell and molecule within these trees were relaxing their hold on one another and drifting apart. Molecules of water and those of matter continued to hover near one another, revealing the truth that they never truly touch.

Each time the women sang “Ahh,” there was a small expanding of the spaces both within and around each element of the forest. When the women inhaled to prepare to repeat the tone, there was a minute contraction in those spaces. I held my breath, in fear that the whole forest could be scattered by a human sneeze.

“These nature beings are held in perfect balance and relationship as they always have been,” my guide reassured me. “They enjoy revealing how much space there is within and around every bit of matter and every cell of being in this beautiful world.”
“What is that tree showing you?” she asked, pointing to a venerable Ponderosa Pine. At first I saw what I was used to seeing, its upper branches waving freely and its powerful trunk and deep roots holding it firm. “Soften your eyes,” she encouraged.

As I did, the tree revealed all of its inner spaces. I could see the wind moving not only among its needles, but within them. I held my breath for a moment to focus, and then as I inhaled, the molecules of needles drew inward. When I exhaled, they relaxed out away from one another. They never fully touched, but continued to expand and contract with each breath I took. The tree was drawing in what I was breathing out. Then it offered me the air it released for my next in breath.

When I turned my focus to the Women of the Open Sky, I saw that they were all breathing with the trees. But it was broader than that. The rocks and birds, grasses and wildflowers were all dancing with this same rhythm of air, inhaling and exhaling. Everything as far as I could see was moving in this basic dance.

“We all breathe together,” my guide explained. “This is the Earth breathing us all as one.”

For a long time I remained transfixed on the unity of nature breathing in harmony. Giving and receiving, floating apart and then joining in unity, all the atoms of matter looking the same and yet hinting at specific forms.

Then I felt the surge of breeze that comes when the warm air that has blanketed the Earth is released, and the chill of morning rushes in. Would this break the magic of shared breath?

The limbs of the trees did lift in their usual dance, as the wind became part of the day. The outlines undulated, but held. The deep unity of each of these nature beings was stronger than the vibration of voice or wind. Each molecule knew their inter-being with all the others in their environment. It was not that cells of a leaf were less part of the nearby rock, it was just that the relationship was slightly different. All live here in an intricate dance that helps all to thrive.

It was not until the sun emerged from the slope of the mountain that the spell was broken. The strong rays of the new day called each being of the forest back to its usual form. Leaves and needles coalesced and took on their specific outlines. Bits of dust hung in the air, and then landed on the surface of a stone. Colors and textures that I had barely noticed, came to life throughout the landscape. The day had begun.

As we walked down the hill, my guide explained:

This is our celebration of the inter-being of all living things. Seeing clearly that we are all made of the same stardust/earth soil, air, water, energy and spirit, we remember our place within nature. Breathing with the Earth and the web of life, we are renewed in our intimate connections to one another. Seeing this Ultimate and Intimate mystery of life is our service to the people.

As we sing, each morning, we envision every human being as you saw the trees this morning.

First, the space appears around and among them. Within our community there is balance and trust. The unique gifts and insights of an individual gain full expression as each one is acknowledged for what they add to the people. The solid individual boundaries can ease as each person is given room to grow. The personal outlines and identities are less sharp-edged, because they are invited to keep learning, discovering and experiencing life.

Like the needles of the pine, the unique being of each person is visible in the affinity that their molecules and life energy have for one another. We are not the solid individuals we seems to be. We are the dance of matter and energy with the empty space of that fills and surrounds us. At our most basic level, we are the same stardust and breath of life as every other being within the web of life. But there is some unique, undying essence which keeps our thoughts, emotions, creativity and physical expression interwoven, even as we evolve throughout our life. Openness allows for the constant changes of life to blow through without breaking the inner harmony.

We teach our young people how to breathe with the Earth. Inhaling, they receive love, joy, and nourishment from all of nature. Exhaling, they give love, joy and nourishment back to the Earth. In time, they learn to feel their whole body/mind/energy expanding and contracting as they are inhaled and exhaled by the Earth. This is the point when they sense in their bones that they are at home here, within the web of life. There is no separation, only unity.

It is our task, as Women of the Open Sky to live these realities, as much as we can, in our thinking, speaking and acting in the world. We renew our connection with this Ultimate reality every morning. Then we bring it back to our community and keep it visible until everyone discovers it within themselves.

As I walked along the path, I saw a new vitality and vibrancy in the trees and flowers, the birds and boulders. Each one becoming a beloved friend now that we shared the secret of breathing as one. I began wondering if it is the Earth Herself breathing us, or if we breath one another, or if something beyond us all does the breathing. As I began trying to figure this out, I noticed a shift. My guide was gone. I had stepped back through the vale, into my meadow.

I turned, looked up toward the glorious sunrise, and bowed in deep gratitude for the gifts of this new day. Tomorrow, I would wake early, go outside and sing to the spaciousness of the open sky.

 

Stories My Drum Told Me

I am delighted to share the first chapter of my upcoming book, “Stories My Drum Told Me.” Each chapter will be a self-contained story containing images and wisdom drawn from the unseen world, which I access both through Bön Chant and shamanic journey. Looking beyond the surface illusions of our ordinary existence, I hope to share the beauty, unity and power that exist in the mystery that flows through all of life.

You will find the first chapter, “Earth Breathing at the Beginning of the Day” on the Stories for My Grandchildren page.  In this chapter, I introduce the Women of the Open Sky as they experience all of nature breathing together in the spaciousness of the early morning landscape.

Learning to Embrace Suffering

Thich Nhat Hahn, (called Thay by his students), teaches that we must look deeply at our own suffering before we can see the suffering of others. We begin by working with our strongest emotions, by welcoming them, and letting our practice of mindfulness embrace them.

Thay uses the example of a crying baby. When the baby cries, the mother goes into the room, picks the baby up, and holds it tenderly. After a few minutes the baby begins to quiet, just from her presence. As the baby quiets, the mother discovers what is causing the baby to cry. Thay encourages us to do the same with our own suffering; our pain, sorrow, confusion, anger, grief and other strong emotions. He recommends saying, “My precious suffering, my pain, I know that you are here. I will not run away from you.”

At first this was difficult for me. I have been raised in the mindset of “professional distance” from the suffering of others. This taught me to delay my emotional response to their pain until I was alone. But in time, I forgot to go back to my own feelings and became distanced from my deep sadness, sorrow, confusion, despair and anger. I learned to use my personal energy to pretend “everything is fine,” and wondered why I got tired, distracted and tense.

When a strong emotion arises, I am learning to greet it and feel it fully in my whole being. It has my full attention. When suffering is crying out, it cannot show us what is beneath it or reveal the insight it holds. The mother must first pick the baby up and offer it comfort. Thay uses this image to describe mindfulness practices which can help us care for our suffering.

One of the tools I am learning to use is the Bön Chant. It reminds me of the spaciousness within and around me that can hold anything that arises. Practicing this every day makes it a familiar energy that I can draw on when something difficult arises.

There are also songs I sing in gratitude and connection with the present moment.
One of songs from Plum Village includes the lines:

I have arrived, I am home
In the Here and In the Now.
I have arrived, I am home,
In the Here and In the Now.

It can be repeated in my mind as I walk outside in the sunshine. Feeling the earth under my feet as I take each step, I am held by the compassion of creation and this makes the pain smaller and the confusion more tolerable. I recognize that all people throughout time have felt this same intensity of loss, grief, or outrage. I am not alone in the grip of this emotional energy. We feel it together as members of the human family. Today, it is my pain and sorrow, but tomorrow, I will understand the deep pain that another is going through. She weeps or wails with me in my despair, and I weep and wail with her in hers. We both know the feeling intimately and can now share it. In the sharing, the intensity wanes and we are comforted. In understanding that suffering is a natural part of life, the fear subsides.

In the meantime, while life is quiet and calm, I will sing, breath, walk, and return to the present moment. Not to brace against future disaster, but because it is here that I find joy. Here in this moment, I am surrounded by reasons for happiness and peace.

Love, Joy and Peace,

Nancy

Seeds of Healing and Restoration

I saw a gorgeous hawk sitting on the fence post as I walked over to the motor home last Saturday morning. He was perched in perfect profile and only flew when he heard the sound of my gasp of delight. His wings stretched to show their beautiful white on black pattern and he soon disappeared through the trees.

What follows was Hawk’s message that came partly in my shamanic journey and partly as I wrote this piece.

In the journey, Hawk asked me to ride on his back so he could share a higher perspective with me. We soared up through the clouds and took a stationary position high above the Earth. This gave me the view of the entire globe with the soft flow of land into water and water into land. He hovered there and let me breathe in the unity and balance of the scene below.

Tiny seed-like droplets of shimmering light began to fall past us, showering down all over the Earth. “These are sister and brother seeds,” Hawk told me.

Each one has an exact mate within a human being. These are seeds of healing and restoration that are now pouring down to touch and strengthen the love, joy, and harmony which each person carries within. Some people have been so deeply wounded that they no longer know that these qualities exist within them. The seeds you see falling will move to their core and bring both remembering and healing of the wounds that have festered for centuries and generations.

Look first within yourself to see where your seed droplet comes to rest. It may ignite your life force energy reminding you of your inner strength and freedom to live your life fully. It may rest in your mind to release all of the thought patterns that hinder your well-being. It may open your heart to understand your deepest wounds and how to embrace them with love and care. It may ignite joy and laughter within you so that you feel like a fresh fountain bubbling with delight for all life holds.

Your inner healing and renewal does not take place in isolation, because all of Humanity is interwoven as cells within the same body. As the seeds of love, joy and harmony begin to emerge from the soil of your being, they will enliven all around you. Once you can look gently at your own pain, sorrow, anger, and regret, you will be able to see how others are also suffering in these ways. When you drop the illusion of how different you are from one another, your unity with all of humanity will become apparent. As you tend this new understanding, all of you will blossom and flourish.

You are not alone in tending the highest qualities within the human family. All of creation is here to water your joy and nourish your inner light. The vibrant and fully expressed life of any being within the Web of Life enlivens all. Breathing in, you receive the loving embrace of all living beings and breathing out, you celebrate the wonder of all the lives around you.

May these words and images water the seeds of love, joy, harmony and vibrant life within you as they have within me.

Nancy

The Gift of a Healing Crisis

I wrote recently about the resonance field in which interconnections result in a rippling of love, light and joy throughout the whole of our existence. In April, I encountered a number of waves of synchronous energies that have begun to expand my self understanding.

The first wave was my continuing work with the Tibetan Bön Chant. Over the months I had been working at the level of the upper three energy centers: crown, throat and heart. The crown is associated with the syllable “A,” and the image of a wide open sky which nurtures a feeling of spaciousness. The throat syllable “OM” adds the sense of sunlight pouring into that wide open sky, and a feeling of life being complete as it is. The heart is the place where the seeds of love, joy and peace are fed by the syllable “Hung.” I had not yet moved on to “RAM” at the naval or “DZA” at the root energy center.

The next wave was a healing journey that occurred when I met with the leader of our drumming circle, Della. She drummed and I sought healing for pain in my right hip and some long-term digestive problems. I met with the aboriginal medicine woman who is the one who does the work of healing on my body, mind and emotional being in the unseen world. She told me that when I decided that I would not be giving birth to children, I tied knots in the sinews at my hips and created a barrier across my abdomen. Ever since, I have sought to birth everything in my life through my thoughts, words and heart. She did the work of untying the knots and told me that over time I would discover how to birth what I create through my whole being.

These journey images resonated very powerfully for me and I knew that it was time to begin using the rest of the Bön chant to open those lower energy centers. While “RAM” is traditionally associated with joy, I found it also connected with my life force. Through Qigong, I have learned that this naval level is the Lower Tan Tien where we store our personal vital energy. This energy or fire nourishes our overall well-being and refines our deepest nature. It is a womb in which love, joy and peace can ripen into their highest form.

The root energy center is for giving birth, and “DZA” is about bringing the fullness of who we are into tangible expression. As our life force empowers the expression of our deepest being, it becomes effortless to spontaneously express it in our daily lives.

The next wave came through dental work that at first seemed to go very well, but a week afterward resulted in an infection near my lower jaw. After an unsuccessful four days on one antibiotic, I started on a stronger one, two days after my healing journey with Della. The details of the week on medication and the gradual recovery of health are not important. The outcomes, however, were very significant, revealing this as a healing crisis to aid my personal transformation.

Being very ill always opens me up to the liminal state of not being fully in either the seen or the unseen world, but drifting between the two. In this state, I found that doing my chant twice a day was one of the few things I could do. What I experienced was a broadening and deepening of my understanding of spaciousness, light, love, ripening of deep virtues and how to bring them into tangible form.

The overall result was a shift in my perception of my place as a human being within the web of life. All of us share vast space within and around us; light as our central nature; unconditional love and joy as our natural vibrational level; the capacity of our life force to nourish love, joy and peace for all living beings; and the continuing birthing of these elements into all of life.

I also experienced a shift in my eating habits, food choices and weight. The chemical changes in my body reset my system. As a result, I have a new lighter, healthier body that is best supported by smaller meals and more simple foods. It feels like I have been given the gift of a tangible change to keep me aware of the inward transformation that continues to unfold.

In the weeks and months ahead, I intend to share more about the healing qualities of the Tibetan Bön chant, and go into more detail about the images and insights it brings me. I am also beginning to write a storybook, “Stories That My Drum Told Me.” It gives me an expressive outlet for the wisdom and images I receive during my chanting and shamanic journeys.

I thank you for your presence in my life as companions in this unfolding journey of life.

Peace and Joy,

Nancy