Monday, January 16, 2017

Long and Winding Road Trip

November 17, 2002 (Florida)
The south is a vista of tall oaks, Spanish moss and shadows that blow along the ground like curious inhabitants from another world – a far cry from the desert to which I have grown accustomed. Voodoo shops in New Orleans seem familiar somehow, and one of the handmade dolls created to snare tourists into a frenzy of souvenir buying winks up at me from a basket of otherwise lifeless brothers & sisters. Of course I purchased the little fellow, stuffed him in a bag of other items collected along the way, and will undoubtedly place him on a shelf somewhere to be forgotten, just one more haunted relic, a macabre curiosity to be commented upon long after I have faced the eagle. Folly manifested.

The odd thing about New Orleans was that as I walked down Canal Street with Wendy at my side, on our way to one of those touristy tours to all the famous haunted sites in the French Quarter, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by the presence of an ally. And as I stood looking in a storefront replete with thousands of strands of Mardi Gras beads, tiny figurines in the shapes of jazz musicians and alligators, an androgynous voice whispered in my mind, “So… you’ve finally come home.” Interesting, since I had never been to New Orleans before that day.

But immediately upon hearing that voice, I knew the city as intimately as if I’d lived there all my life. Shops that had seemed alien and perhaps even foreboding moments before suddenly became familiar, and as we walked through the city that night, I somehow knew I was walking in my own footsteps, retracing a route I’d taken dozens of times before… in a life I never lived, in a parallel reality or alternate dimension. Or through the eyes of a ubiquitous Whole Self. Whatever the explanation, if it is even possible for such an explanation to exist in ordinary awareness, it was truly a remarkable experience, walking through this city as if it were my home, knowing intimately the texture of every stone and brick in St. Louis Cathedral, “remembering” a time not so long ago when I had walked these same streets in a different mortal guise, looking out through the eyes of some other self entirely, yet clearly the same self at an energetic level, at the level of awareness, consciousness.

I have no belief in past lives as the concept is commonly understood. Instead, what I have come to see is that at that level of ubiquitous consciousness, where there is the interconnectedness of all energy, some element of Now connected strongly and deeply to some element of Then, and a door opened between the two worlds. It would be possible, of course, to say this is simply the way things are everywhere… and yet I’ve never had an ally welcome me home to Albuquerque or El Paso or Atlanta. Why New Orleans? Who’s to say?

Courtyard of our haunted hotel in the French Quarter.
That night, back in our hotel room on Canal Street, I dreamt of a ghost in the mirror, a young man who was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. So he just smiled warmly and gave an elegant bow, blowing me a kiss through the looking glass.

In Florida, the rains come as soon as we cross the state line, like someone throwing a switch. Windshield wipers rattle an irregular yet monotonous rhythm as we drive through the night, sandwiched between 18-wheelers pushed along by grinning phantom drivers and a produce truck bearing the badly worn hand-painted lettering: “Bubba’s Auto Repair. Cars Fixed Cheap.”

My mother, well into her 80s, insists there is a devil. Not “a” devil, but The Devil. She tells me this as she fills out her tithe envelope to take to church in the morning – a tithe she cannot afford, given to an inanimate entity, a building, a mere mortal man who claims to be a messenger from heaven. Perhaps there is a devil after all. Perhaps, as Orlando has often said, the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he is God.


The property as it appeared in 1961... now little more
than a shadowy, vine-covered bit of isolation,
existing only in memory, at the edge of
The Twilight Zone.
This afternoon, I drove with Wendy to the property where I grew up. Once a tiny town not even on any reputable map, now a six lane highway runs through the center of this thriving suburb. At first, I cannot even locate the property we once owned, for everything has become modernized, giant-sized, phantomized. Finally, after two passes, I realize that where our 10-unit motel once stood is now literally a small pond, complete with cattails and bullfrogs and aggressively creeping vines. Nature has taken the place back entirely. A tall chain link fence surrounds the property, and where the lake was once visible, trees have grown so thick and tall that only shadows know the location of land’s end. For all intents and purposes, what should have been a prime piece of real estate has been abandoned by time, reclaimed by the wild.

A little shiver passed through me, and for a moment I was 17 again. Knowing I would be leaving the following morning for Miami, probably never to live on that ground where I had grown up ever again, I sat at dusk with the spirit of the lake, listening to the water lapping at the side of a rowboat that was half-filled with stagnant water, a relic sinking back into the earth. My back was pressed against the rough bark of my favorite tree, and somewhere in the distance, somebody was playing an old guitar. Nothing ever seemed to change in that place, and so I closed my eyes and promised the spirit of the lake that no harm would ever come to her. No rich socialite would build a mock-plantation on her shore. No McDonald’s would spring up next to her. No one would ever despoil her beauty, I told her.

And at that time, in my 17-year-old teen-angst of moving away from home for the first time, I meant it.

So today when we pulled into what was once our driveway, I could only gaze in wonder at what had become of that promise, that secret, silent intent. Only a peaceful pond exists where buildings once stood, the very property itself permanently and irrevocably flooded. I smiled quietly to myself, then as the full implications of what I was witnessing hit me, I broke into laughter which was answered by an echo from deep in the sheltering shadows of the trees. The spirit of the lake seemed to share my amusement, and for a single moment, that door between Then and Now opened wide and there was no difference between that young girl and the laughing woman and the infinite.

Allies and phantoms and devils, oh my! What a long, strange trip it’s been.

_____

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Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Observations From the Edge of Time


An Excerpt from "Questions Along the Way"

A seeker wrote:
It's easy enough to be a warrior and practice the right way to live in the serenity of my own home, but what about at work or when I'm forced to engage with my family and friends? Can we really be cohesive and whole and walk the path through the real world?

To me, that's what the path is - because, as Orlando pointed out years ago: "There is only one world, divided infinitely by perception." If we're one person at work and another at home and another at grandma's house for the holidays, we are fragmented and unwhole. And yet, as another seeker said...
It's easy enough to be a monk in a monastery, but how does that same monk fare in a whorehouse? 
As I awoke from a nap one afternoon, it was to the sound of fierce winds hammering at the house, rushing through the trees with such force that even a huge desert pine was threatening to snap, and slamming sand and debris against the window with such fury that it seemed the glass would surely shatter. It occurred to me that I should be worried, or I should be unhappy that a storm was blowing in, or I should get up and go see what needed to be secured. It was deep into dusk, and if I didn't act quickly, darkness would soon obscure my way.

"Be alarmed!" the voice of reason seemed to shout.

Instead, I simply lay there feeling exhilarated by the whole thing, listening to the voice of gnosis which whispered, Eternity is in that wind. It is not the wind nor the objects blown by the wind. It is the force behind the wind that is both calm and fierce, dark and light, life and death and everything in between. Yet it is none of those things - and therein lies its nature and its power.

Impossible to describe the mindset I had awakened into - but suffice to say it was where I most want to be in life - a state of ecstasy and detachment all at once. In that manifestation of the crack between the worlds - the perpetual dusk that must certainly reside at the end of all things - there were no worries, no concerns, no agendas. Dinner would wait. There were no wars to be fought, no disasters to divert, no immediate demands. My weenie dog was sleeping soundly at my side. Orlando was with me in a way that is impossible to describe - a tangible presence in the room, an essence of Spirit blown in on that magical wind.

For several minutes, I simply lay there absorbing it all - the actuality of silent knowing, the visceral reality of the crack between the worlds, and the serenity that came with simply Being a being who could perceive and experience the magnificence of it all - the violence of the wind, the eerie gold-grey light that hangs in the air after a sandstorm, the perfection of a single moment in all of time.

But eventually time drags us forward again, and even though a warrior takes those perfected moments with her into the world, there is nonetheless an undeniable speed bump that delineates the passage from one world to the other.

As I got up and peered out the window toward the west, it was easy to see the damage. A large lantern in our yard was blown over and shattered; trash littered the Joshua trees; and one of the light-up Christmas trees had been dislodged from its stakes and was rolling down the driveway like some runaway toy afraid of being shoved back in the closet to endure a long season of darkness before it would be in good favor with the human consensus again.

Minor inconveniences, of course. Just things I noted during this passage between the worlds on a New Year's Eve of no particular significance.

So I cooked dinner, brought in some firewood, picked up the shattered lantern, and generally began going through the machinations of real life - and even though I was still pondering that profound state of mind, I was left with a sense of wanting to return to the monastery of my silence rather than putting myself through these strange actions which have no meaning whatsoever.

The world is a nuthouse and the lunatics are running the asylum, Orlando reminded me as I stood looking out the kitchen window to where the winds were causing even the stalwart Joshua trees to shiver like cold, brittle children.

I sighed softly, for even though I have uttered those words countless times as a source of amusement, I cannot deny that they are also terribly true. As I stood there in my silence, I could literally feel the other humans gearing up en masse for drunken parties, excursions to various clubs where they would engage in The Mating Dance, and all manner of debauchery assigned the label of "fun", and all of it occurring only because it was the night on which we throw away last year's "Puppies" calendar and replace it with this year's "Kittens".


Arbitrary demarcations of time.

Some of those humans would even die as a result of their revelries - and though some might argue that it is better to have been puking drunk than never to have partied at all, I'm not the least bit sure that is a sentiment with which I could agree.

It is madness when viewed from outside the container of its own agreement.

The winds have gone still on the first day of the new year, and as I gaze out my window toward the west, it is to see a new snowfall on the top of Mt. San Gorgonio. The silence there must be phenomenal.

_____

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:


Quantum Shaman
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Sunday, January 01, 2017

Deep Inner Meaning


Excerpted from "Questions Along the Way"
A Quantum Shaman book by Della Van Hise
_____
A seeker once asked...
I realized recently that so much of what we believe is just the byproduct of what we've been told to believe. That being the case, how do we know what's real beyond all the lies?

As one advances on the path of knowledge, one resists assigning meaning to most things entirely - because it becomes clear over time that it's the conclusions we draw that are often in error, while the experience itself remains just what it is, whether it can be understood or not. For example, I'm always amused by websites offering to sell certain crystals with this or that "special properties." Quartz for clarity! Amethyst for healing! Aventurine for fertility!

They're just rocks. All of these meanings are only random assignations by humans, but the thing-itself is just the thing-itself. We might decide that quartz resonates and pulsates at the vibrational frequency of clarity, but that’s just a lot of yada – words wrapped around the rock to make it more appealing and, let's face it, more saleable. Words meaning nothing.

With that said, a seeker might decide to assign meaning to a stone as a tool of "fake it till you make it”, but ultimately a woman of Knowledge sees the underlying truth: it's still just a rock. The fact that it is a pretty rock or a different kind of rock doesn't alter the fact that it's still a rock. And, of course, "pretty" and "different" are also just random assignations.

The only thing that makes gold so valuable is our belief. The only thing that has kept the economy functioning for so long is our belief that there is gold behind all that paper. As the mass beliefs start to disintegrate, as the conclusions we have drawn cease to have meaning, the thing itself reverts to just what-it-is...

No-thing. 

In the human world, it seems there is virtually no way to have a society that doesn't depend on conclusions and illusions, agreements and consensuses. If our economy weren't based on gold and paper, it would be based on beans and bones, or trains and taters. Point being: it seems our survival as organic beings depends on certain assignations of meaning, but at the same time our inorganic freedom depends on seeing beyond those things upon which our organic survival depends.  

It's no coincidence that this is somewhat of a flawless trap - a basic construct of the consensual agreement which some have referred to as the foreign installation - a set of beliefs which amount to a false program that permeates the entire human race.

Now more than ever - think for yourself, see with the third eye... question everything, your beliefs and conclusions most of all.

All Rights Reserved
To read more question & answer dialogues, please purchase "Questions Along the Way." 
Many thanks and blessings,
Della Van Hise



To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:


Quantum Shaman
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
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Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          


Friday, December 30, 2016

I Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly...

Let's start the new year with awareness that even though we are all connected, we are not all the same. And that's not only okay... it's a good thing.

Too often lately, I see would-be new age "gurus" telling us that only the light is worth experiencing, when the reality is that we are quite literally two halves of a whole. We are the embodiment and manifestation of the yin and the yang - the light and the dark caught in an eternal embrace that is both healing and enlightening.

Without the darkness, light could not exist. Without the light, darkness would be All that exists.

As humans, we seem to come into this world with what some philosophers and gifted seers have referred to as a predilection. Some are drawn to the light, while others find find their niche in the darkness.  And, of course, by "darkness" I am not referring to traditional ideas of morals, social taboos or anything of the sort. I'm simply saying that some are hard-wired to love sunshine and the ocean at noon in July, while others are drawn to the majesty of a moonless night in January when the stars are frozen teardrops and the ocean is wild with an incoming storm.

Realistically, it's not just about the weather or preferences. It's about what makes our heart sing and dance and seek a higher level of awareness. It's about what makes us feel alive - whether the comfort of the familiar noonday sun, or the mystery of the unknown.

So as you're going through your life, keep in mind that our inherent interconnectedness doesn't automatically require us to be the same or see the same or share the same beliefs. We are all manifestations of spirit - whether we thrive in the light or the dark. One of my favorite quotes is simply this...  "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

Revel in who you are. We are all stardust and pixels of infinite awareness. The rest... is just window dressing on the porthole to the infinite.


_____

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:


Quantum Shaman
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
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Or buy my books on Amazon or EyeScryPublications.com
Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          

Thursday, December 15, 2016

The Things That DO Matter

Quantum Shaman and Della Van Hise are pleased to announce a new e-book, and it's absolutely free!

During the pre-election days of 2016, the chaos and uproar on social media had become so overwhelming that a few folks started making daily posts about something - anything - other than the absurdity that was unfolding in the 3-ring political circus. One friend posted pictures of beautiful men (and they were indeed beautiful beasts!) Another posted a short poem every day. Still others shared pictures of their pets or their family members or flowers growing in the cracks of sidewalks. What follows in The Things That Do Matter are my own efforts in the direction of trying to find some serenity and meaning at a time when it certainly seemed (still does) that the world had gone irrefutably and irrevocably mad.

Whether "The Things That Do Matter" are important to anyone else... who's to say? What I do know is that this time of chaos gave me an opportunity for some personal introspection that could be fitted to a Facebook post window. In certain cases, I have expanded on the original post, or added an article referred to in a link, in order to make this mini-book more comprehensive and complete. I hope you'll enjoy "The Things That Do Matter."

To download this free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™ and my work in general, please visit my websites at:

Quantum Shaman
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
Follow Me On Facebook


Join our discussions on Facebook

Or buy my books on Amazon or EyeScryPublications.com
Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          

Saturday, November 26, 2016

The Positive Side of Negative Emotions (Part 2)

This entry being a follow-up and perhaps a reiteration of a previous blog entry, "The Positive Side of Negative Emotions." Consider this version 2.0  💁
______________

I see more and more new age gurus advocating "the elimination of negative emotions." And while that may look good as a book blurb, the reality is that seeking to eliminate emotions (whether positive or negative) is like attempting to grow a pair of wings or poop rainbow sherbet. Stalkers (in the Toltec/nagualism tradition) understand that it is how we use our emotions that determines their value or their liability.

If we eliminate all fear, for example, there's nothing to keep us from wandering blind and blissful into dangerous situations unnecessarily. Without fear, we might pick up a rattlesnake or leap into shark-infested waters. In fact, many Christian cultists have done such things to prove their faith (and their lack of common sense), and seldom if ever does it end well. Some will argue that reason and intellect can replace fear, and while that may be true to a minor degree, it is fear that has kept the species alive and allowed us to develop background instincts which operate often without our conscious awareness. And, for that matter, who's to say that common sense, reason and even intellect are not simply the evolved manifestations of fear?

If we eliminate anger, for another example, we may lose the ability to protect ourselves or those we love if we come under attack. There are plenty of reasons why martial arts masters teach their students to fight... and then teach them how not to fight, though the foundation of self-defense remains whole and intact in the event it is ever needed.

It is often a very real sense of anger that motivates humans to get off their arses, engage their prehensile tails, and actually do something about whatever it is that's pissing them off. The situation at Standing Rock is just one current example - where enough people got angry enough to take a stand. How it ends, no one knows at this point in time. But it is an example of something positive that can happen when anger becomes manifest through action.

Please know, I'm not advocating using anger to justify outright violence. If you're pissed off at your neighbor because his dog craps on your lawn, diplomacy and negotiation would be the first line of action, but taking the law into your own hands would never be an option. So, yes, common sense and intellect play a role in how we learn to use our emotions to our advantage, and also to insure those same emotions don't become a liability that lands one in the slammer or on the receiving end of a lethal injection.

In another example, the recent travesty of an election has riled up the United States in a way I haven't witnessed since the civil rights movement and, later, the "hippie" movement of the 1960s. At this moment in time, we are faced with a president-elect who defines the wind as "deceitful" (yes, the wind!) and encourages his followers to perpetrate violence and racist segregation against those who are different from themselves (LGBT, Muslims, Mexicans, immigrants of all description, women, and only the sleeping gods know what else). The KKK is marching in the street, and redneck homophobes have perpetrated heinous and even murderous acts against gays. If it isn't his ignorance that kills us all, it will be his arrogance.

 But the thing is... on the other side of that mindless violence and hatred, a significantly large number of the American people have become angry enough ("outraged" would be a better word) to take to the streets in (mostly) peaceful protests, initiate petitions to demand a recount, other petitions to encourage the Electoral College members to reconsider their final vote in December, and a host of other potential "alternatives to Agent Orange" with which I am not familiar.

It wasn't passive acceptance that brought about this cry for change. It was anger - and without it, humans would sit quietly in their Lazy Boys and welcome the zombie apocalypse with open arms and a plate full of vegan cookies and soy milk.

What I've observed is that even our dark emotions are part of our warrior's armor and arsenal. Sure, you can say it's common sense that replaces fear and impeccability that takes the place of anger, but any of those things alone may not be enough. It is the whole being - guided by impeccability and intent - who learns to control and direct her emotions appropriately.

We are yin and yang, dark and light. That isn't going to change. As the old saying goes... "The one who wins is the one you feed."

To read similar anecdotes from the perspective of a Toltec seer...

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