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Northern Cat Lights

by Rose De Dan

kiya-chases-screen1web

Recently I purchased a long-overdue, new computer. My new iMac has sped up my work life immensely, and is a sculptural work of art, for a computer (thanks, Apple and Steve Jobs!). However, it has an additional, and probably unanticipated benefit: my cat, Kiya, loves one of the screen savers.

Originally I had used one of the Apple slideshows of trees and Nature, visually stunning and restful, but suddenly I needed a change of pace, and the beautiful streamers of moving light called Flurry seemed just the thing, so I reset it and left the room.

kiya-watches-screenwebWhen I returned, it was to find Kiya parked right in front of the screen, actively patting it and chasing the streamers as they moved (you can see her pawprint smears from previous passes in the photo). I should have known this would happen, this was the cat that once spent a half hour with me watching Jacquie Lawson animated Christmas cards (see The True Joy of the Season).

Now it appears that my new computer was not just a business purchase, but also a Christmas present for Kiya and I, making it, paws down, the most expensive cat toy I have ever purchased.

Then she did something even more entertaining and amazing, she just sat and watched the light show. I wondered if I should pass her some popcorn, or perhaps some catnip would be more appropriate?

Rose De Dan
Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC
Website: www.reikishamanic.com
Blog: www.wildreiki.wordpress.com
Animal and Reiki Art: www.cafepress.com/reikishamanic

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Northern Cat Lights

This morning when I woke up I knew, even without my contact lenses in, that something was different. There was a kind of glow coming from the window. I did not have to squint, there was snow on the rooftops! Having lived in Massachusetts for 22 years before moving here you would think that snow would not be such a big deal, but in the eight years that I have lived on Alki here in West Seattle we have not had a major snowstorm.

While engaging in my morning routine of feeding the animals and preparing to walk my dog, Puma, it became clear that I was going to have a snow day for the first time in a long time, as all of my clients made the decision to reschedule.

While making lists in my head of all the things I could get caught up on, such as laundry and holiday party prep, I realized that I had perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get out in the snow, have some fun, and take some photographs. Time to play a little hooky from chores!

My dog, Puma, was adopted from a shelter in Montana, and has not really seen snow since. With his snowshoe like feet and thick winter coat (I think his parentage is Anatolian Shepherd/Alaskan Malamute but will never know for sure), he was ideally equipped for the weather, and after donning a coat I have not been able to wear since living in Massachusetts because it is so heavy, furry boots, leg warmers, scarf, hat, and fingerless gloves (for camera operation), so was I.

I also packed some all-natural beef dog treats. Today I was going to let Puma off-leash so that he could fully enjoy his time in the snow. Normally I do not do this as Puma has a tendency to not listen to me off-leash, forging ahead and leaving me behind. I think it is the sled-dog heritage, very helpful when he helps you drag out the trash, which he does with tail held high and waving, not so good otherwise.

Arriving at Schmitz Park, we had it all to ourselves, although there was evidence in the snow that others had been there before us.

Saying a prayer to Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, for all that I have learned and was now about to apply, I had Puma sit, and when he did I rewarded him with a treat. He is a smart dog, having seen me prepare the treats he could see that there were more where that one came from, and that I was the purveyor. It was my hope that that piece of knowledge would enable me to call him back when needed.

I unleashed Puma, and he was off like a shot. Charging down the path, diving off into the underbrush, he was a wild man, and then he disappeared from sight. I called his name—no response. Sigh, maybe this would not work. Taking a deep breath, I grounded and centered myself and called again. No response.

Placing my faith in Puma’s innate intelligence, I decided to simply move forward and trust that he would return. Sure enough, here he came, at top speed. I whipped out my camera and managed to get a shot before he arrived, panting and smiling. When he sat I rewarded him with a treat. From that point on, every time he would return to me I would reward him. He did not always respond immediately to my calls (and then he did not get rewarded), but he did a decent job of not making me wait too long. Long enough, I guess, to establish that I still need some work on being alpha, but not long enough that he was demonstrating that he had no respect for me. A delicate balance in dog protocol.

I got some lovely shots of him in the falling snow, my favorites are the one of him catching snowflakes on his tongue, and another where he is running down the path under the arches of snow covered branches. (You can see all the photos from our Alki adventures at my Flickr site.)

We had so much fun that we decided to check out Alki Beach and see what it was like there. By now Puma was back on leash, and back to being his usual well-behaved self. He is truly amazing. He will always stop while I am taking pictures, and if I take a moment he will sit and wait patiently until we move on.

We made a stop along the way to watch people standing around in groups talking while dogs played tag in the snow. The funniest was one golden retriever, who I swear was making snow angels while his person talked on his cell phone!

Down by Alki Beach, on the shore of Puget Sound, the wind was quite brisk, and the snow was still falling heavily. I watched pigeons struggle to make headway against it, finally managing to stay in one place while airborne, and then simply giving in, and resting as a flock, on the ground. Seagulls made hovering in gusts of wind look easy, spreading their wings wide and staying motionless, I have no idea how you do that when the wind keeps changing direction.

Watching them made me wonder how difficult it must be to find food in such weather. One seagull had it handled, however. He waited by the seawall for a crashing wave to dump whatever it carried at his feet, where he could look it over and beat any other contenders to a tasty morsel.

By this time the wind had picked up even more, and my legs were starting to feel frozen. But I kept taking pictures, trying to capture the right moment where the waves crashed against the seawall. Now my fingers were getting numb. Still, I needed to take one more set of shots, of Lady Liberty, the Statue of Liberty that was recently restored and dedicated on Alki Beach. Looking at her from her right side, her figure and garments were dusted with a blanket of snow from the midline to the front, making her appear as though she walked forward into the teeth of the snowstorm holding her torch aloft and not faltering. Unfortunately that angle also included a backdrop of trees, wires, and stores, which ruined the effect. I had to content myself with a shot of her from the front—she still looks resolute.

Puma had been really patient through all of this, and my fingers were now definitely getting harder to move, and I wondered at one point does a camera get too cold? Time to head home. We’d had our walk in our Winter Wonderland, and like any child who has been playing in the snow on a day off from school I suddenly yearned for comfort food. Calling it a day, Puma and I made our way back, and I decided that after downloading the photos, I would kick back with a cup of hot cream of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. My day off would be a day of memories to treasure—the chores could wait.

Rose De Dan
Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC
Website: http://www.reikishamanic.com
Blog: www.wildreiki.wordpress.com
Animal and Reiki Art: www.cafepress.com/reikishamanic

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Dog Walking in A Winter Wonderland

The Gift of Spirit

by Rose De Dan

Spending three days in shaman time usually results in interesting insights and occurrences, but the first session of the year-long training, Spirited Living: A Journey into Self-Healing, was more interesting than most.

Part of the three-day workshop was held at Camp Long. Located in West Seattle, Camp Long is a Seattle park with a focus on education about local plants and wildlife, and I had chosen it for precisely that reason.

My first realization that the weekend might be out of the ordinary (whatever that might be for shamanism!) came the morning before the class as I was walking my dog, Puma, in Schmitz Park, the last old growth forest in Seattle. As readers may recall from previous columns and my book, Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism, I have a close relationship with the park and the trees that grow there.

That morning the trees in Schmitz Park greeted me with the information that the trees at Camp Long were really excited about the class, they said that it had been a long time since any on this path had danced in the energy and walked there. I realized with a bit of a shock that I was being told that the trees in Camp Long would be holding space for this weekend and for the students as they took their first steps into the Peruvian shamanic tradition of the Q’ero.

Later that morning the weekend began with my opening Sacred Space for the class, taking us all into shaman time—between the worlds and into the limitless possibilities for shift and change—a space that we would all inhabit for the entire weekend. Given the early morning message I had received, I made a point of acknowledging, with deep gratitude, All Our Relations who would be holding space and assisting in guiding the people attending: animal allies, Stone People and Tree People. And when I began to call upon the apus (mountain spirits) for their assistance, I realized just how appropriate the choice of venue for this weekend really was, on the wall facing me were painted wooden plaques commemorating each of the local mountains! I asked all the archetypes and allies for assistance, guidance, wisdom, and strength as well as for their love as we set our feet upon this shamanic path. In retrospect I realized that perhaps I should have put on my shamanic seat belt!

Training at Camp Long took place in the Lodge, a wonderful space built in the 1930’s, which means it has high ceilings, lovely dark wood, and a working fireplace—perfect for a class in shamanism.

In keeping with its focus on education, it also had an extensive adjoining library on every local animal and plant you could imagine, as well as a display case which contained valuable information on owls. I had always wanted to go on one of Camp Long’s nighttime owl walks, and paid special attention to the case and the stuffed owl that flew above it, an act that was to have great significance in the following days.

Odd things can happen during shamanic training, as Sacred Space remains open for the entire duration. That night, in Dreamtime, I watched some chipmunks and birds feeding on food and seed that had been put out on a grassy area. I was glad to see them being taken care of, the yard where I live is certified as a Backyard Wildlife Habitat, and I realized that I could offer them the leftover apple pie I just happened to be carrying.

Just then I noticed an owl on the ground, feeding among the other wildlife. The logical part of my brain noted that an appearance by an owl at any time of day would normally send birds and small mammals running for cover in terror, yet all were peaceful.

As I was trying to assimilate that information while glorying in seeing an owl, Owl suddenly jumped, not flew, landing at my feet on my right side. As I looked down at Owl I realized there was something odd about his face, it did not look like any of the illustrations of living owls I had seen. Before I could explore that thought further Owl spoke. Looking meaningfully at the apple pie I carried he said, “I like apple pie.” Feeling rather like Dorothy in Oz my jaw dropped in astonishment, and I replied, “I did not know owls liked apple pie, but you are welcome to have some.” And Owl hopped up onto the tin and proceeded to dine on apple pie with gusto.

When he was finished Owl hopped down, and with the primary feather on one wing made the same beckoning motion that one would make with an index finger. As I bent down Owl said, “The next time you speak with God, ask for what is missing in your life.” A tremendous feeling of awe came over me, could it be that simple? With it came the realization that this was definitely not a dream, this was a gift from Spirit, as I would not normally refer to Spirit as God. Owl had more to say, but unfortunately we were interrupted and the rest of the wisdom that would have been imparted was lost, and I woke up.

The dream that was not a dream stuck with me. I was guided to bring it to the class and share. As we sat in circle, I suddenly recognized my nocturnal visitor and realized why he had looked so odd in the dream—the physical form of Owl was none other than the stuffed owl that flew above the display case—only now there was a power animal spirit inhabiting it! With the dream I had suspected that I had perhaps gained a new power animal of my own that weekend, but now I realized that the class as a whole had one too, something I had not known might happen.

In thinking back I realized that Owl had been making himself known over several weeks prior to the class. On several nights, while walking Puma by Schmitz Park, I had heard an owl hooting just at the edge of the trees, a rare occurrence. Feeling very blessed, I tracked the sound to a tree each time and stood at the base just listening and wishing that I could actually see the owl, but regretfully, it was too dark. Each time I thanked the owl for making his presence known and for not being frightened off.

That day in class at Camp Long, one student actually got to see an owl while doing some outside class work. Apparently he was sitting in a tree about 20 feet from her, ironically flying off only when someone came over to warn her not to frighten the owl!

That evening I reflected on the possible meaning of Owl for the class and personally. As a power animal Owl has great healing powers and wisdom, and is an old symbol of Spirit. In some traditions Owl is a symbol of death, and as a nocturnal being is linked to the cycles of the moon, representative of the feminine and of change. The owl is a bird of the night, a symbol of the darkness within, the Shadow side; in shamanism, the side that we dance with and get to know intimately, for there is tremendous potential for growth in the healing of our wounds. However, in order to realize that potential, we must be willing to let go of the old and familiar, to allow our old ways of being to die in order to make way for the new.

As I researched Owl further in my books on animal spirits, I noted that Owl also enables one to hear what is not being said, what is hidden, including the ability to see into the darkness of others’ souls. From this also arises the gift of clairvoyance and prophecy—the ability to see the future. Unsure of the meaning of all of this I closed the book, and headed off to an uneventful sleep.

The following morning, and final day of the shamanic weekend, and I was again walking Puma in Schmitz Park.

The leaves were drifting gently down off the trees. Already many lay on the path, making dry shooshing sounds as we walked through them. Then, as though there were no other leaves present, my attention focused solely on one from a Big Leaf Maple. As I picked it up I marveled at its size and beauty and yearned to take it back with me. Further examination revealed a spider egg case on the other side. Taking the leaf would mean interrupting the life cycle of the spider babies it held, so reluctantly I laid it back down and walked on.

Several minutes later I was still fretting about that leaf. Despite the multitudes of leaves around it seemed that no other would do. As I felt the yearning tug once again, with an audible “ping” one leaf detached itself from the Big Leaf Maple overhead and literally fell at my feet.

I picked it up with a sense of gratitude for the gift. Less perfect in appearance than the first, I wondered why I had been given this one particular leaf. It was mottled in sections, and there were holes where an insect had dined. And then, like the paper that falls away from a present that is being unwrapped, the Leaf revealed the gift in its entirety. I saw the new green of spring, and felt the inhale of carbon dioxide, poison to us, but life for the Tree; and the exhale of oxygen, life for us and many other inhabitants of Pachamama. I felt sunlight caress the Leaf and the Sun’s energy transformed into food for the Tree, and the Leaf into food for the Insect. Seeming endless summer finally eased into Fall, when the Tree withdrew its energy from the Leaf and prepared for the dormancy of Winter. This tattered Leaf shared its glorious story with me, with no sense of sadness, only joy in its dance with the cycle of life. A story and gift that I brought back to the class who were engaged in their own dance of growth, transformation and death. And interwoven into that story, with great beauty, was Owl, harbinger of days that grow longer—days of increasing darkness as we approached the season of Winter—the traditional season of death and rest before the resurrection of Spring.

But the story of Owl and the Trees did not end with the inevitable closing of Sacred Space at the end of class.

The following weekend I was scheduled to attend a fundraiser for Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, an organization that was founded to rescue a group of seven chimpanzees who were waiting for sanctuary after decades of use in research. The fundraiser was being held at a private home of a friend of one of my clients.

As Kim, one of my students from the shamanic training, parked the car, I noticed a yard that had so many squirrels and birds feeding in the grassy area it looked like the ground was in constant motion. Hanging from the numerous trees were what looked like at least a dozen feeders.

As I noticed a familiar sign from the National Wildlife Federation designating the yard as a Backyard Wildlife Habitat, I realized that this was the house the auction fundraiser was being held at. I thought, “I like these people already!”

In an effort to lend whatever support I could to the fundraiser I had brought copies of my book to add to the raffle that they were having. In looking for a place for them on a table crowded with the donations of others, I was startled to see two homemade apple pies! I immediately flashed to my dream, suddenly there was similarity between the animals and the birds in Dreamtime and the ones feeding on the grassy lawn where the fundraiser was being held.

Turning to Kim, who knew the story from her class, I smiled and remarked, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I won the apple pie?” Since I normally don’t win a thing at raffles I simply bought three tickets to support the cause and thought no more of it—until my number was called as the winner of the first apple pie.

I held that apple pie with a deep sense of reverence and of humbleness. I had been given a very special gift, but what to do with it? As a single person I could not possibly eat a whole pie myself, so I offered a slice to Kim and Becky, another of the students who had been at the shamanic training. Perhaps they could enjoy it on behalf of the rest of the class.

In thinking about the symbolism of apple pie I wondered if it also stood for the American Dream, the concept of home and community—of connection with all that we hold near and dear. So, in honor and gratitude for the dream, the Trees, and Owl I left a slice on the Earth as an offering, and what I did not eat I offered as a gift to my local wildlife. Perhaps the true gift of Spirit lies in sharing what we have with those most important to us.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a prosperous New Year from all of us at Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing!

Rose, Kiya, Saqqara, Puma, Cougar and Sand

The Big Leaf Maple photo and an excerpt from this story appears in the new Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism 2009 Calendar and Workbook. Matching spiritual journals are also available.

Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC
Website: http://www.reikishamanic.com
Blog: www.wildreiki.wordpress.com”
Animal and Reiki Art: www.cafepress.com/reikishamanic

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The Gift of Spirit

I will be appearing at SoulFood Books in Redmond, WA this Thursday, May 8 from 7:00-8:00 p.m. reading excerpts from my new book Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism and answering questions from the audience, of which hopefully there will be at least a few!

As a first-time author new to the book reading circuit I thought I should research my role online and perhaps pick up some tips on how to make a decent presentation and not bore my audience.

One article entitled “Tools of the Trade: Readings” by Charlie Stross made me smile with Rule #1: “The audience is not your enemy.” It had never occurred to me to think of them that way, but the author went on to make a good point—we are not performance artists. Writers are unaccustomed to creating in public, writing is a very slow and private undertaking which would bore most people silly to watch take place. A reading of your book (especially mine, which chronicles the amusing, and hopefully sometimes inspiring progress of my adventures in healing with animals and people) is an airing of your innermost thoughts in a venue where the audience can SEE you and make observations about you not just your work. Great, never that comfortable with public speaking to begin with, Charlie has now made me more nervous than ever!

So, how to turn my angst into a source of strength? Charlie continues with the information that “to start with, people who turn up to your reading with be either friends, fans, or the randomly curious, in descending order of probability.” Hmm, while not a native of this area having emigrated here in 1999 from the East coast, I have called the Alki neighborhood of West Seattle home for seven years. If I think of everyone from this geographic region as my neighbor that should help (note to self, I will clear the popular Seattleite reference to Redmond as “the Evil East side” from my mental storage compartments). So, I now have my plan of action, in my mind every person in the audience will be a friend or potential friend.

Now, on to the program, what do I read? An hour does not seem like a long time until you are the only person speaking. Although my years of teaching Reiki and shamanic classes to captive students has given me some ability to hold the attention of my audience at least until that last cup of Seattle coffee necessitates a bathroom break, I can’t rely on the same techniques, this event is not for paying students invested in learning a healing modality, this event is free to a more general audience. After deliberation I decide that I should choose an eclectic mix, something for everyone: humor, suspense, pathos (sometimes all in the same story!), with perhaps a strong leaning toward animal lovers (not a difficult choice considering the book contents).

So far I plan on including a reading of “Two Dogs,” a true story of two lost dogs that found their home again through an emotional appeal to me and the kind efforts of two elderly neighbors. For me it was an early experience of the validity of animal communication before it became a part of my professional life. Then perhaps a segue into my move here from Massachusetts entitled “As the Stomach Churns,” a comic chronicle of the madcap adventures of moving with animals. To honor my connection and appreciation of the beauty and wildlife still present in the city, specifically in Alki, I think I might read “At the Edge of Two Worlds,” a story of my first encounters with seal pups on the beaches of Alki and the use of Reiki for babysitting. Still a toss-up whether to stick to the humorous with “Guns and Mesas,” a recounting of what happens when a shaman encounters a security check at the airport and the shamanic wedding blessing that the guests at my youngest sister’s wedding will never forget (and I can include the use of props which should qualify for performance art), or to get serious with “The House That Love Built,” a story of my father’s death and my revelations about his life which coincided with the events of 9-11. I am leaning toward getting a bit serious in light of the situation in Tibet as well as other hot spots around the world, but perhaps there will be time for both.

In any case, no matter what I read, I will actively use what I have learned from my healing and teaching practice: I will send Reiki to the situation so that I will remain calm and that my words may be heard as I intend, and that the listener will receive whatever they need. This means that I must let go of attachment to outcome and simply be present and available. I will do my best, and set my intention toward welcoming many new friends and neighbors (Eastside and Westside) to my first book reading event, SoulFood Books, here I come!

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First-Time Book Reading Jitters

Gracie the CatRecently I was one of several practitioners offering mini Reiki sessions at an annual retreat for women and girls. Everyone was receptive and appreciative, except for one teenager. I was in the initial stages of a Reiki session with a woman when the door burst open and this teenage girl rushes up to my client and bursts out, “Mom! How could you have signed me up for Reiki! I mean, massage is just fine, that I get, but Reiki!? It’s just too weird having someone lean over you with their hands on you and then declare, ‘You’re all better now!’” The girl then turns to me and says, “No offense.”

If I had not been aware that the mother was mortified by her daughter’s actions I would have laughed out loud. Far from taking offense I could certainly see the daughter’s viewpoint since many people are not as aware of healing energy as animals. I thanked my many years of doing my own personal clearing work which now enabled me to look beyond myself in order to see what the real issue was.

After the daughter had departed, secure in the knowledge that she did not have to participate in a Reiki session, I reassured her mother that I took no offense. I added that it was good to see her daughter so vibrant and healthy, and apparently not in need of a Reiki session. Mom’s response was, “Well, I really thought she could use a session, she needs it.” At this point, now having a clear indication from the mother that she was seeking help in some form, I stepped back and took a “look” shamanically. Was there something that could benefit both of them?

I asked if her daughter liked animals. Mom’s face lit up, and her energy expanded and she told me her daughter was crazy about them (it turned out that Mom was, too).

So I began to tell her my own personal stories about Reiki and animals. Reiki is a really cool way to connect with animals—it increases one’s “animal magnetism.” What that means is that all animals perceive and respond to good, positive energy and an open heart. Animals are drawn to the practitioner through the love embodied in Reiki energy. A student of Reiki facilitates self-healing through daily personal Reiki treatments, promoting energetic balance and healing emotional issues of trust which then increases the student’s openness and re-connection to the natural world, something the animals really appreciate.

In my career as a Reiki healer I am often approached by animals who take one look into my energy field and want the brand of energy I have on tap, namely Reiki. A classic case was Gracie, a cat who lived across the street from me, and who used to show up on my doorstep whenever she did not feel well. I would open the door, and there she would be, looking for her personal Reiki healer (read the full story at Gracie the Cat and Fireworks). And she never failed to get her session, who could turn down such a trusting compliment?

It was not my intention to use stories about animals to entice either mother or daughter into taking a Reiki class, although that is a possible outcome, but rather to promote the commonality they shared—a love for animals. Perhaps the animal stories might bring them closer together, building bridges across the sometime too-wide gap between generations during the teen years, something I sensed that both desired.

By gently steering mother and daughter to my articles or book, perhaps they might feel validated in their own perceptions, which in turn might encourage them individually to follow their own intuition in taking further steps on their paths toward wholeness and happiness. And most likely along the way they will be encouraged and supported by their own domestic animals, who love us unconditionally, and who are so perceptive in reading our emotional and physical needs, and so very willing to offer us their own healing assistance and guidance.

One of the most important intentions in any healing modality is to support your clients in achieving healing for THEIR highest healing good. This means that the practitioner must let go of attachment to a certain outcome; the client should receive what they need, not what the practitioner thinks might benefit them the most. Allied with that is the intention to empower the client so that they may be an active participant in their own healing. So, once I told my animal Reiki stories I let go of attachment to the possible outcome, trusting that the universe knew best. But I’m still very human, I can’t completely disengage from personal attachment—I still hope that mother and daughter at least enjoyed reading my articles, which is the fervent hope of every writer!

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Building Bridges with Animal Reiki