Before I share this next story I want to give you some background. Newborns are narcissistic, and they have to be. They depend on others for survival and their needs are paramount. It’s possible that the first emotions a newborn feels are love and fear. Love when mother is present and tenderly attending to baby’s needs, and fear of being abandoned when mother leaves the room. An infant can fear that he is not loved; and even worse, that he is not lovable. But mother or father always come back. . .unless they don’t.
My father abandoned my sister and I when she was three and I was one. It fueled the flames of fear and they kept on burning. I responded with insecurity, diminished self-worth, and watered seeds of guilt and belief in the I’m not lovable narrative. I’ve struggled with this narrative and it has been a crippling handicap my whole life. I’ve had a hard time relating to father figures and men in authority over me, and I avoid the company of men who are strong-willed and controlling.
When I became a Christian my first pastor was a spiritual father to me, the father I never had, and I felt his love and faith for me. Then he moved away to pastor another church and left me behind. My sleeping dragon awoke: I’ve failed him; I’m not lovable. I spent the next 40 years trying to earn his acceptance. Like a narcissistic child, I was tossed between feeling love and feeling abandoned. It was depressing and I didn’t know how to get free; I didn’t know how to ask for help.
Two years after I left my church, I experimented with shamanic journeying. For those not familiar, shamanic practice was common among indigenous peoples around the world and is still practiced in some cultures. Shamans functioned as priests, prophets, and healers for their communities. They can enter altered states through drumming or dancing and/or psychedelics, and journey into the spirit realm to get wisdom and answers for their people. Today, westerners prefer to take the journey themselves rather than have a shaman do it for them. One result of this is a plethora of online and in-person training in journeying. I read books and took a couple of introductory classes. I tried journeying without much luck until the evening of June 1, 2022. Here’s what happened:
Anna, a friend of mine in Eugene, was leading Zoom journeys on Wednesday nights. Those participating were supposed to decide on an intent for their journey. I hadn’t prepared so I had no specific intent. I closed my eyes and started drumming to get into an altered state. Using our imagination, we listened as Anna set the stage: We are at a beach; it’s night; and we are standing around a bonfire.
I decide to walk down to the water where I find a coracle at the water’s edge. I climb into it along with Crow, my companion on this trip. (Some ancients would get in a coracle, a small round boat, and let the tides take them wherever fate directed.)
The tide takes me out a hundred yards or so and I can still see the fire but it’s smaller. A porpoise swims up to the boat and sticks her head out of the water. I know she is there for me so I get in the water and she takes me down to the ocean floor where I can see an underwater structure resembling a modest thick-walled adobe house. A muted green fluorescent light with yellow and blue highlights is emanating from within. I intuitively know this is a place inside of me. I’m pleased that there is a light in this hidden place. It is very quiet and still and nothing is happening so, I ask the porpoise, “What am I here to see?”
I’m drawn closer to the house and notice a large window-like opening into a small room. The room is lit by ambient light coming from an adjacent room. A small toddler is sitting hunched over in the room. It’s obvious that he’s depressed. We don’t speak to each other, he doesn’t even look up, but I know he’s sad because his father is gone and he doesn’t understand why. He feels unloved.
I also know that the little boy is me, and while I’m feeling his pain, I’m also aware that my dad does love the boy but dad’s a wounded soul and he was not equipped to be a dad when I was young. Without words, I am able to share this insight with my younger self.
The next thing I know, the porpoise is taking me back to the surface and launches me high into the starry night. I don’t see my dad but I know he’s right there with me. We connect but no words are spoken. I know something’s changed; something has been resolved. I decide to check on the boy and immediately fall back into the ocean and find myself in front of the underwater home. He is dancing in the fluorescent light. He is free.
I return to the coracle, drift back towards the beach, and see the others dancing around the fire and I think everyone rejoices when a child is set free. Anna calls us back and ends the journey.
My Comments
- This experience was transformative. I believe that the pain of separation from my father is part of the path I chose to experience and overcome in this lifetime. I’m at peace with it now.
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