Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Disgruntled, Parking Citation Owner
I have a new job on campus. After a year and a half of getting shitty shifts - when I told them it wouldn't work with my school schedule... once again - and deciding I really want to dip my toe in the big wide scary world outside of nursing - and spotting a job in a department that looks like something I might want to do post graduation (Public Safety) - I ventured out.
I'm cross training two very different jobs. One in HR and the other in the Transportation and Parking office. I'm enjoying it, though it's sort of like picking up two new classes mid semester. It may not be the global job for peace I envision for myself some day, to help change the world for the better but I do help change the world for disgruntled parking citation owners. And that feels good.
What also feels good is a little something I have been missing for nearly three years - a work community. Having had it all my life, I didn't really know how great it was. And frankly, in the nursing world, who has time to talk? I have landed in coworker heaven! They are all so kind and easy to work with. What more could I ask for? Well, maybe a higher salary. This master work plan of mine is brilliant except for the small fact that a part-time non benefited entry student salary matches about what I made when I was sixteen. Beans and rice anyone?
But this is a time in my life of cheap adventure and boy howdy am I on my way. It was my 56th birthday yesterday. I'm feeling pretty good about that. Every year gets better and I don't know what 56 is supposed to feel like because I never got the memo, but it's feeling pretty fuckin good. Maybe I should send the memo, "Hey, 56 is grand. Can't wait till you get here!".
But my point is this, I'm in a sometimes thankless job (think, disgruntled parking citation owner), making next to nothing, but I'm feeling appreciated and celebrated in this little position of mine. Note above pic for evidence of said appreciation and celebration (including homemade cake! - who does that?). Thanks guys. Thanks for it all.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Susan right over!"
For those of you who may not have had the privilege of playing this game, I'll explain the rules. Two teams line up facing each other some distance apart. One team calls someone from the other team to "come right over" (see the above title for exact wording). The team joins hands and tries to prevent that person from breaking through their line as the person comes across the divide running full force.
I had some trepidation about this whole venture. If you have been reading my past blogs you know that I have been struggling to remember how to play. And I have been wanting to remedy that deficit in my life. In the past, I was never one to excel in brutal force type games. I was much more the timid, shyer short of kid. And though I'm not shy anymore, I never, ever acquired the physicality or desire for competitive sports. I remember playing Red Rover and other such games way back in the day because, that's just what we did. But as I recall, I never felt terribly competent or comfortable. Yet, there is something to be said about feeling included in the collective group activity, what ever it maybe. And I think there is something about the physical component as well. Play in itself seems to indicate some kind of movement of the body. I'm just realizing as I write this, that the loss of and discomfort of play go hand in hand with the sheer discomfort of simply being in my body. An "Ah Ha" moment just then. So what to do about it? Play, and be in the discomfort until it gradually ebbs away. Or at least that's been my successful technique in healing other ouches in my life.
So there I stood last night, hand in hand with a line of people - shall I mention, most of which were much younger and more nimble? We were laughing and enjoying the comradery and I was breathing and trying not to be afraid. And who should they call first? (again, refer to the title) Holy Cow, how do I get myself into these situations? But I am determined to do this thing and to it's fullest, so off I trot. I am strategically accessing the weakest link in the chain as I build up speed. A little piece of my brain is reserved for a constant prayer of, "Ok, please don't let me trip right now". I could see their determined faces, but I wanted this! I didn't just want to play, I wanted to play well. I hit the line and after a bit of resistance, I broke through! Why does that feel so fucking good? Maybe there's a bit of brute strength and competition in me after all.
Monday, September 26, 2016
Dress Rehearsal for Earth Chant
Here is a piece that I wrote in spring of 2003. I read it on my radio talk show last week along with playing the concert, "Earth Chant" by Aurora Chorus, which I sang with for a year or so. Preparing for and singing in this concert was a marvelous and healing experience. Enjoy.
Dress Rehearsal for Earth Chant
By Susan Fullmer
I find myself standing on
risers on a stage of a large, darkened, empty auditorium, surrounded by 100
beautiful women ages 15 to 70 something.
I am at the onset of what promises to be a panic attack. I am breathing and thinking, “How did I get
here and why, oh why did I tell anyone about this concert?”.
I know how I got here. It’s because of The List. My, “Things I want to do before I die”
list. Now, it does not say parachute
jumping from a plane as one might suspect.
But it does include, “Sing in a choir”.
I haven’t sung in an
organized choir since college, fall semester 1979. It’s been a few years, OK, 23. But who’s counting?
I joined Aurora Chorus,
conducted by Joan Szymko, three months ago.
They themselves have been in existence 11 years and their motto is, “Women
in Harmony for Peace”. I’m not feeling
very peaceful at the moment. Perhaps I
should have written parachute jumping instead.
We are in the midst of dress
rehearsal for our upcoming concert in two days called, “Earth Chant”. Eighteen memorized songs in seven languages –
all celebrating the earth. The timing is
such to honor Earth Day, spring, Easter, Passover, and the joy of being alive
on this wondrous planet.
There is no mistake about the
timing of this event in my personal life.
For me, it’s about healing. I
have been slowly emerging from a dark and numb place where I can’t remember how
to feel or what exactly it is that I care about. This experience is changing me.
I keep crying. No long sustained wailing with a flood of
tears, but rather a catch in my throat and suddenly my eyes are moist. Throughout rehearsals and without warning, it
happens during any given song. The
meaning of certain words and phrases wash over me and through me with
penetrating force aided by the vibrational sound that surrounds me. The intensity of feeling takes my breath away
and I cannot sing. My prayer for this
concert is, “Let me not cry. Please, let
me not cry”.
I laugh too. The deeper feelings of emotions seem to be
the noticeable change in me these days.
Last week we all laughed when someone down the row made a list of the
difficult Hebrew words from the song, “Adama” and taped it to the back of the
singer in front of her. We thought it
was a great idea and wondered if we could all get away with it during the
actual concert. Well, everyone except
the front row of course.
While I am singing during
today’s dress rehearsal I imagine the empty seats filled with real people. Of all those coming to see and support me,
the one I anticipate the most is the presence of my 16-year-old son. It occurs to me at this moment that he has
never known me as a singer. I’ve never
really stopped thinking of myself as such, yet the outward piece I only now
reclaim. He will see this on Saturday
for the first time. It sobers me to
think he may have never known this important part of me.
I told him funny parts to
watch for during the concert. I knew he
would like that. I remember telling him
the words to the song, “Why am I Painting the Living room?” It is a humorous women’s lament. She years to get out and enjoy the beauty of
the day. She also feels chagrined for
not putting more time and effort into safe guarding that very beauty of the
earth she loves.
The words of the song are, “Holes
in the ozone the size of Brazil,
Barges of trash in the
chewable breeze,
Pools of industrial wasteland
pate’
Sulfur dioxide dissolving the
trees,
Pretty soon, it will all end
with a boom,
And here I am, painting my living
room.”
I can still see my son and
myself sitting in the car talking about this song. We laughed together as I read the words to
the last verse.
“Oh yes, I can see how my
tombstone will read,
Here lies someone of
exceptional worth,
Though she did not do a lot
for her kind,
Or help hold together this
crumbling earth,
Here lies a woman they’re
saying of whom,
Sure had a good looking
living room.
As we rehearse these words, I
smile. I think of him sitting in the
audience. He will be smiling and
remembering too.
“Indian Singing” is the
multi-song piece we all dreaded from the very beginning. It was, by far, the most difficult music I
have ever attempted. But slowly, over
time, we mastered it and ultimately it became our favorite.
The poet, Gail Trimble,
rehearses, “Indian Singing” with us, reading her own words. The composer, Ron Jeffers, will be in
attendance on Saturday.
We sing, she speaks, the drum
plays. We weave in and out creating a
tapestry of textures in sound. I marvel
at her voice. I can feel the vibration
of it. It seems to emanate from a
knowing place deep within her. For me,
her voice sounds like forest. A mixture
of rock, tumbling water, and moss covered tree.
I am moved to hear a poet’s words in her own voice.
The dissonant sounds of the
foreign harmonies, of this piece, were disturbing to me at first. In one section, the music dictates that I
constantly sing one note off from the soprano standing next to me. It is repelling at first, pressing me to turn
away to better hear my own kind, the comfort of sameness from the altos to my
right. But I forced myself not to turn,
rather to listen and blend the unblendable.
With time, what was dissonant became natural, a perfect back drop to
Gail’s words. My words. My life.
In Mohawk, Se hia’ rak means “dark nights”. Se hia’
rak, Dho’ nun gwa, Iun sa se we’, Ts, Ni se wa we ien no’ den, which means,
“On dark nights, the women whisper how they love, whisper how they gave and
give until they have no more. The guilt
of being empty breaks their hearts.”
The song continues, “Together
women struggle to remember how to live, nurture one another, to know that
breath is a sacred gift before the rising sun and love can change the world as
sure as the magic in any steady song.”
I take a deep breath. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but the panic
is subsiding. What seems to be replacing
it is the feeling of familiarity. It’s
as if I have been immersed in the nurturing energy of Mother Earth
herself. I especially feel it as we sing
the song, “The Earth is Singing My Name”.
“She spoke to me till I heard
her,
Gentle like the stream,
Firm like the rock,
She sang to me a song of myself,
Rolling my name round in her
mouth like a jewel,
Presenting it to me as a gift
saying,
Look at yourself bright star,
Earth bound, you are my child.
And she whispered my name,
Like wine,
Sweet bitter berries touching
my lips,
Filling my heart.”
Filling my heart.”
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Blur Softly
Fuck. I just had a mini panic attack in my new math class. I'm sitting outside after class trying to get into my body again. Thank God I was recording the class because I'm not really sure what happened after the pop quiz that triggered the whole thing.
Ok, and I will acknowledge that I haven't been here on the blog for awhile. And I will acknowledge that it's because I had a wonderful summer of play and relaxation. My head was nowhere near writing and thinking, and this little blog suffered for of it. You ought to feel like a friend of a fair-weather-friend - ignored unless I have a need. But if I could just interject here, for sake of argument, and say that I am a healthier, better person for the relaxation-down time and hence might be a better blogger because of it. No? Not buying it? I don't blame you.
And where is all that relaxation improvement when I am trying to take a silly math quiz? Anxiety is such a horrible thing to experience. And I'm doubly upset because I thought I was doing so good. I've taken two semesters of math now, and I got a B in both classes. Which in my world, is like an A++. When I look at my transcripts as see those Bs, but my eyes blur softly and I can see those A++s clearly. I know the truth.
But now I'm in Math 123 Quantitative Reasoning. Think, a sea of word problems. I'm so screwed. I get time and a half for the big tests, but not for the nearly daily quizzes. Argggg. I hate feeling shaky and scared. I'm an intelligent, confident women damn it! You'd never know it to look at me right now. Where's the cry room on this campus? Where can a intelligent, confident women go to have a good cry around here! Damn it!
Ok, and I will acknowledge that I haven't been here on the blog for awhile. And I will acknowledge that it's because I had a wonderful summer of play and relaxation. My head was nowhere near writing and thinking, and this little blog suffered for of it. You ought to feel like a friend of a fair-weather-friend - ignored unless I have a need. But if I could just interject here, for sake of argument, and say that I am a healthier, better person for the relaxation-down time and hence might be a better blogger because of it. No? Not buying it? I don't blame you.
And where is all that relaxation improvement when I am trying to take a silly math quiz? Anxiety is such a horrible thing to experience. And I'm doubly upset because I thought I was doing so good. I've taken two semesters of math now, and I got a B in both classes. Which in my world, is like an A++. When I look at my transcripts as see those Bs, but my eyes blur softly and I can see those A++s clearly. I know the truth.
But now I'm in Math 123 Quantitative Reasoning. Think, a sea of word problems. I'm so screwed. I get time and a half for the big tests, but not for the nearly daily quizzes. Argggg. I hate feeling shaky and scared. I'm an intelligent, confident women damn it! You'd never know it to look at me right now. Where's the cry room on this campus? Where can a intelligent, confident women go to have a good cry around here! Damn it!
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Fretting over the dark side
I've fretted over the dark side for as long as I can remember. Or, what I and others sometimes call the "shadow side" of ourselves. I've progressed from "sin" to "just a normal part of us" a long time ago. But I've been stuck there ever since.
Energetically, I can feel that there is a dark side to us which feels somehow natural to me. I can't explain it really, but I just know that it is. I also know that we must learn about it and - horror of horrors - we must embrace it. Oh, but how? Sure, it's easy to say, "To be healthy and balanced we must know our dark side". Again, I can feel the truth of it...but how to tape into that mystery is...well, a fuckin mystery.
So, tonight I did it. I took the bull by the horns and said, "enough already!" Either I do this thing or I am eternally stuck in the non-embracement of the yin side of my swirl. Talk about eternal damnation. Or the lack thereof? Oh, the confusion that reigns!
Weak in the knees from fright, I asked my guides to show me my shadow side and teach me how to embrace it. With much stalling on my part, the journey began. Now, to my credit, I have good reason for my trepidation. I have worked with many dark energies and entities while healing myself of others. It aint pretty folks. So why would someone voluntarily go there? My point exactly! But I was feeling frustrated because everything I felt and learned said to "EMBRACE". What's a girl to do, I ask you?
All these thoughts and more kept racing through my fear-laced brain as I approached the blackness within me, to which they were showing me to go. Oh, the madness of it all! But I knew it was now or never so I pressed forward and slipped into the inky mist, holding my breath and pinching my eyes shut - as if any of this would help me. To my great surprise, it was nothing like the dark energies I had worked with before. Nothing. In fact, it was as benign an energy as I had ever felt. So, totally, nothing. How was that possible? I asked them to explain.
They then asked me to go to the light side of myself. So, off I went thinking heavenly chorus and hallelujahs. Again, nothing. The white was as neutral as the black. WTF? Again, I asked them to explain.
They then showed me in ways that I cannot adequately verbalize, that it was my emotion to the black/white that changed it to something other than neutral. Hence, I had complete control over whether it was frightening, joyful, terrorizing... (inset a reaction here). Yes, totally in my control. The shadow indeed was not bad or good. It simply was. So, my experience now matches what I had learned before, but sadly, I still don't know what that all means. Except to say that in the future, when I am afraid, I will know that it's all about my choice, not some kind of inherent characteristic of the energy.
In conclusion, I'm going to leave you hanging. Simply because I am still hanging. More to come, I hope. More to mull over, I am sure.
Energetically, I can feel that there is a dark side to us which feels somehow natural to me. I can't explain it really, but I just know that it is. I also know that we must learn about it and - horror of horrors - we must embrace it. Oh, but how? Sure, it's easy to say, "To be healthy and balanced we must know our dark side". Again, I can feel the truth of it...but how to tape into that mystery is...well, a fuckin mystery.
So, tonight I did it. I took the bull by the horns and said, "enough already!" Either I do this thing or I am eternally stuck in the non-embracement of the yin side of my swirl. Talk about eternal damnation. Or the lack thereof? Oh, the confusion that reigns!
Weak in the knees from fright, I asked my guides to show me my shadow side and teach me how to embrace it. With much stalling on my part, the journey began. Now, to my credit, I have good reason for my trepidation. I have worked with many dark energies and entities while healing myself of others. It aint pretty folks. So why would someone voluntarily go there? My point exactly! But I was feeling frustrated because everything I felt and learned said to "EMBRACE". What's a girl to do, I ask you?
All these thoughts and more kept racing through my fear-laced brain as I approached the blackness within me, to which they were showing me to go. Oh, the madness of it all! But I knew it was now or never so I pressed forward and slipped into the inky mist, holding my breath and pinching my eyes shut - as if any of this would help me. To my great surprise, it was nothing like the dark energies I had worked with before. Nothing. In fact, it was as benign an energy as I had ever felt. So, totally, nothing. How was that possible? I asked them to explain.
They then asked me to go to the light side of myself. So, off I went thinking heavenly chorus and hallelujahs. Again, nothing. The white was as neutral as the black. WTF? Again, I asked them to explain.
They then showed me in ways that I cannot adequately verbalize, that it was my emotion to the black/white that changed it to something other than neutral. Hence, I had complete control over whether it was frightening, joyful, terrorizing... (inset a reaction here). Yes, totally in my control. The shadow indeed was not bad or good. It simply was. So, my experience now matches what I had learned before, but sadly, I still don't know what that all means. Except to say that in the future, when I am afraid, I will know that it's all about my choice, not some kind of inherent characteristic of the energy.
In conclusion, I'm going to leave you hanging. Simply because I am still hanging. More to come, I hope. More to mull over, I am sure.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Sunday, July 10, 2016
Back to One
Grandfather said, “In the
beginning there was one race, and then four – the Red, the Yellow, the Black,
and the White - And the prophecy says we
will blend together and return back to one." How happy was I to
see them all in my new community of humans.
Yes, blending back to one, and yet still individually distinguishable.
Red –
Grandfather himself.
Yellow – The
smiling women from China with so many questions and the ability to feel it all.
Black – The Dancer
from Africa who wore the beautiful hand beaded medallion all week that proudly
showed his heritage.
White – The women from Boise Idaho who was so happy to finally find her community after looking for so, so long.
White – The women from Boise Idaho who was so happy to finally find her community after looking for so, so long.
Monday, July 4, 2016
It ain't gonna happen
Memo to women and men: If you are waiting for men in authoritative positions to give you permission to develop a relationship with the female face of God, it ain't gonna happen.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Intuitive Explorations with Susan Fullmer - Web Site
One of the coolest things I have ever done, or will ever do, is build my own web site for my new business, Intuitive Explorations with Susan Fullmer, for Intuitive/Psychic Readings and Energy Healings. This I do, in my Boise, Idaho office or via phone - Google Hang Outs - Apple FaceTime.
This baby is hours old and ready for gawking. Have at it. Be sure to ooh and ah as it was just birthed after all.
This baby is hours old and ready for gawking. Have at it. Be sure to ooh and ah as it was just birthed after all.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Asking the Divine
A friend of mine asked me a question about healing yesterday. If you haven’t noticed by now, the subject of healing is a particular passion of mine. When I heard Caroline Myss say, many years ago, “Why don’t we heal?” I literally bolted up straight in my chair will all senses humming. What I didn’t fully understand then, but I have learned to embrace now, is that I am a healer. You think I would have clued into that fact when the only thing I truly thrill about in life, revolves around this topic.
I did some healing work on this same friend recently. She reports that she no longer has the chronic pain that had prevented her from doing the things she enjoys in life. For example, she has started to do yoga again, an activity that she had dearly missed. This story is not an uncommon one in my life. It is a typical outcome of the work that I do.
I find healing to be a complex, infuriating, awe-inspiring-beyond-words subject. I have thought about it, talked about it, ranted about it, pulled my hair out over it, almost nonstop for nearly three decades. And yet, I sense that I have only just barely scratched the surface.
For example, I sit here today with chronic back and neck pain that I have had for 22 years. This debility affects every aspect of my life. I can’t even remember what it is like to be without pain. I have looked at this situation of mine from every angle I can imagine. I have been to many excellent healers of many modalities. I have felt guilt over it and I have berated myself because of it – Physician, why is it that you can’t heal thyself?
I mention my own plight to illustrate that I have literally looked at this mystery called healing, from top to bottom. This brings me to my friend’s question. She said, “Why is it that we have to ask for healing?” She points out that this seems to be a common thread in as many traditions as she could think of. “Why doesn’t the Divine heal you without you having to seek it out?”
Oh where to start? I think the first place to start is semantics. Let’s define the word healer. It has been my experience after many discussions with many good healers, that we are not comfortable with the word. Personally, I use it because it’s easy. But it’s not accurate. Call me lazy, but it’s so cumbersome explaining and disclaiming every time I try to describe who I am and what I do. But here’s the truth of it. I’m not doing the healing. (Nor do I believe that any healer is doing the healing.) I am simply channeling Divine energy with intention. But it needs to be said, that despite my best work, the outcome is not within my power. That, I must let go.
This is a bit off topic, but I will mention it here. Traditionally, the word shaman cannot be used by an individual to describe herself. Only the people can call someone a shaman. This is partly why I am uncomfortable using words like healer or shaman. It is not for me to say.
So, if we healers are not doing the healing, who is? Wish I knew the answer to that question. I will however, tell you what I do know. I rely HEAVILY on my Spirit Guides and Helpers when I do healing work. If truth be told, they are doing more and more of the work these days – their suggestion, not mine. Spirit keeps telling me, “You are doing too much; it gets to be easy”. So be it. But you get my point. They are doing the lion share of the work while I hold space and do what I’m told. Now, I may be wrong about this, but my sense is that they are channeling the same Divine energy that I am. So are they doing the healing any more than I am? I’ll just let us all sit with that question for now. I will tell you this: in every healing session of which I have been a part, I feel the Divine. Define that word as you will but for me, it is a distinct and real aspect that is beyond myself. It is all knowing and all loving. It knows me and knows the person I am working with. Whatever aspect of healing comes about, it is the perfect outcome for the situation. Including mine.
Perhaps one reason we need to ask the Divine for healing is because if it were left up to us, we would fuck it up. Take me for example. If I had had my druthers, I would have been pain free after my first healing session. What possible, positive outcome could have come from such a sucky, painful way to live? And yet, if I am honest about it, I know that my pain path has taken me in directions that otherwise I would not have ever ventured. Would I be the healer I am today if I wasn’t so fixated on what causes pain and what the hell can be done about it? I think we both know the answer to that question. Maybe God does know best.
But I have more to say about my friend’s question, “Why do we have to ask for healing?” It has been my experience that our Spirit Guides and Helpers cannot help us unless we ask. I think that’s why we get so frustrated. They are waiting to help, and we are not asking. But I think it’s a good system. Hear me out, because what would be the alternative? They barge in anytime they think we need help – whether or not we want it? I think not. The current system feels respectful to me. It also feels like a learning opportunity for us.
One last thought. We are not meant to live and heal in isolation. Trust me on this. I have tried for years to go it alone. I’m constantly shown by Spirit that I need to reach out and ask for help. So excruciatingly hard! But the outcome does bring connection and yes, ultimately healing.
Monday, June 27, 2016
I want to know you
I have just had my five thousandth hit on this blog from people all over the world (If Google Stats are to be trusted). It's surreal to say the least. It's like I'm in a one-sided friendship where I'm the only one who is allowed to speak. That is fucked up. If truth be told, I want to know you.
Friday, June 24, 2016
The Immigrant Shaman
I've had this same conversation lately with a variety of people, so I have these thoughts rumbling around in my brain that I want to put to paper - the blog kind.
When anthropologist and such started to study shamans, it was discovered that they were found in nearly every part of the world. Shamanism is the oldest spiritual practice known to humankind. It dates back a hundred thousand years, if not more. An odd thing happened when shamans were studied. These healers had no way of talking to each other during those thousands of years, yet it was found that they were all doing the same thing. Or rather, their practice was the same at the heart of what they were doing. This is called Core Shamanism.
Around that core practice, a shaman would take on the trappings of the culture she or he belonged to. So in each region of the world, researchers found a wide variety of outer practices that reflected local beliefs. This is called Cultural Shamanism.
Outwardly, as we look at shamanic practices, no two styles look the same. There is a beautiful array of beliefs, ceremonies, deities, costuming, etc. But when we look beneath all of that, at what the shaman is actually doing, we find the same practice the world over.
This makes me think of cultural appropriation. How does an immigrant shaman find her tribe? And what happens when the shaman is an all American mutt made up of many cultures? It's a bit of a sticky wicket. (Shout out to my English shamanic heritage!)
We could be talking about anything from shamanic healing practices to the desire to understand another culture. When does one cross the line from "respectful curiosity to learn", to "inappropriate cultural appropriation"? Let's say for example, that I buy a beautiful Native American necklace from a pawn shop. Let's also say that unknown to me, it's a sacred object that belongs to a specific tribe, and it is only worn by certain people and only during sacred ceremonies? What happens if I later find out about it's origin and purpose? What if a similar necklace is gifted to me by the maker with a clear understanding that I would not be able to wear it in public? What is my moral and ethical responsibility in each scenario? I agonize over these questions because I want to be respectful. But what if I make a mistake? What if I'm irreverent out of ignorance? What if my seeking takes me to places I ought not to be - and according to whom? How do we explore our spiritual center and remain respectful to others?
I don't have the answers to these questions. Perhaps asking them and having the conversation is a good start. I do believe that core beliefs and practices cannot be appropriated because they are from the tribe of human. But I also believe that maneuvering life with the desire to understand and be respectful of others and their cultures is an ongoing, worthy endeavor which I intend to continue.
When anthropologist and such started to study shamans, it was discovered that they were found in nearly every part of the world. Shamanism is the oldest spiritual practice known to humankind. It dates back a hundred thousand years, if not more. An odd thing happened when shamans were studied. These healers had no way of talking to each other during those thousands of years, yet it was found that they were all doing the same thing. Or rather, their practice was the same at the heart of what they were doing. This is called Core Shamanism.
Around that core practice, a shaman would take on the trappings of the culture she or he belonged to. So in each region of the world, researchers found a wide variety of outer practices that reflected local beliefs. This is called Cultural Shamanism.
Outwardly, as we look at shamanic practices, no two styles look the same. There is a beautiful array of beliefs, ceremonies, deities, costuming, etc. But when we look beneath all of that, at what the shaman is actually doing, we find the same practice the world over.
This makes me think of cultural appropriation. How does an immigrant shaman find her tribe? And what happens when the shaman is an all American mutt made up of many cultures? It's a bit of a sticky wicket. (Shout out to my English shamanic heritage!)
We could be talking about anything from shamanic healing practices to the desire to understand another culture. When does one cross the line from "respectful curiosity to learn", to "inappropriate cultural appropriation"? Let's say for example, that I buy a beautiful Native American necklace from a pawn shop. Let's also say that unknown to me, it's a sacred object that belongs to a specific tribe, and it is only worn by certain people and only during sacred ceremonies? What happens if I later find out about it's origin and purpose? What if a similar necklace is gifted to me by the maker with a clear understanding that I would not be able to wear it in public? What is my moral and ethical responsibility in each scenario? I agonize over these questions because I want to be respectful. But what if I make a mistake? What if I'm irreverent out of ignorance? What if my seeking takes me to places I ought not to be - and according to whom? How do we explore our spiritual center and remain respectful to others?
I don't have the answers to these questions. Perhaps asking them and having the conversation is a good start. I do believe that core beliefs and practices cannot be appropriated because they are from the tribe of human. But I also believe that maneuvering life with the desire to understand and be respectful of others and their cultures is an ongoing, worthy endeavor which I intend to continue.
Thursday, June 23, 2016
The World's Greatest Lie
"The world's greatest lie is this, that at a certain point of our lives we lose control of what is happening to us and our lives become controlled by fate."
I've started rereading, The Alchemist", by Paulo Coelho. I read this book over 25 years ago when I first consciously started my journey into who I am and why I am here and how to let that happen. This is how it looks now (above), but this is how it looked back in the day (below). Just seeing the old cover brings back a whoosh of... a mixture of so many emotions. It isn't easy to wake up. In fact, it's the hardest thing I have ever done. But it is also by far the most important thing I have ever done or will ever do. Everything else pales in comparison, because without it, nothing else matters. It will be interesting reading this milestone book again, now that I am so very different from the women of long ago.
Paulo Coelho
The Alchemist
I've started rereading, The Alchemist", by Paulo Coelho. I read this book over 25 years ago when I first consciously started my journey into who I am and why I am here and how to let that happen. This is how it looks now (above), but this is how it looked back in the day (below). Just seeing the old cover brings back a whoosh of... a mixture of so many emotions. It isn't easy to wake up. In fact, it's the hardest thing I have ever done. But it is also by far the most important thing I have ever done or will ever do. Everything else pales in comparison, because without it, nothing else matters. It will be interesting reading this milestone book again, now that I am so very different from the women of long ago.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
A Song for The Ghost Children
This is a piece I reworked for English 204 - Creative Non-Fiction Writing. This one was the hardest of all, and the one I spent the most time rewriting. It is after all, a grueling and incredibly important story for me to tell. I dedicate it to all The Ghost Children of the world.
A Song for The Ghost Children
I woke very early this morning
with the gut-solid knowing that I must write about the singing and the
song. My spiritual practice is
eclectic. I love to join with others in
their various forms of spiritual gatherings to pray and sing their songs, which
has deep and joyful meaning to me. I think there is something powerful
about people coming together in community to sing and follow tradition.
We all want and need to feel connected to each other and there is no
better way I have found, than to join with others doing some kind of repeated
ritual that everyone knows. If these rituals have been done over
generations, all the better to develop a lasting, nostalgic, accumulative feel.
I always experience a breathless awe when I am invited in.
As much as I
have needed and embraced these gatherings, I have found over the decades, that
these practiced rituals leave me no room to sing my own song. I have been seeking my true voice for a life
time. As it has slowly emerged, I have found that I not only have a
voice, but a song. My song is a song of the moment in which I sing the
energy I feel and see. It's as if I am translating what is there for all
to hear. It usually feels sacred to me, though I've been known to do it while
vacuuming for example, which is a ritual of sorts. It helps me clear the
energy in a room, while clearing the dust - an effective one-two punch.
As an energy
medicine healer, I sometimes feel drawn to sing what I sense during a healing
session. Many times I have sung the story of the pain that is before me.
These are gut wrenching songs that can include sounds I have never heard
come out of my mouth before, because they are not my own. Over time I
have come to understand that these songs can help relieve the energy of past
traumas. It's as if I am standing witness to the atrocities of the lives
of those that I am healing. I speak
their truth with the song. I will say that often, as the energy sifts and
dissipates, the song changes to one of sweet release and tender hope. It
is an experience I truly cannot put into words. And I hesitate even
writing about it because it is sacred to me.
The specific song I am to write about this early morning, is a song that
I sang about five years ago when I was beginning to deal with the sexual abuse
of my childhood.
Unknown to my mother, my father was
"renting" me out to child pornographers. I was not the only kid
there. A small group of girls and boys would
huddle in a corner of the room, until the adults decided they needed one or
more of us to pose like puppets with them for a “scene”. I remember the blinding flash of the cameras
– this was 1960s technology. No memories
of the cameras themselves, only the numbing process of humiliation and pain
punched with the flash, flash, flash. It
was an unspoken rule between us children that we were never to make eye contact
with each other, because to see the truth in each others eyes would have been
too much. Perhaps the last straw in our
fragile survival. There was such a keen
knowing between us that this was so very wrong.
We silently held our never ending question: Why couldn’t these grown-ups comprehend what
we so clearly knew?
In my mind, I called the others, The
Ghost Children because that's what they looked like to me. The
walking dead. There was no life in their eyes and their bodies slumped
and shuffled when they moved, if they moved at all. It didn't occur to me
then, perhaps, because I would have been younger than seven, but I understand
now that I must have looked just like them.
So, five
years ago, I was in a therapeutic gathering of people where I felt safe and
supported. We were taking turns talking
deeply about ourselves and our lives. I
had no intention of talking about my abuse history. But as I spoke, my
story unfolded. It was the first time I shared it outside of therapy and
a few carefully chosen friends and family. But it was the right time, and
the right place, and the right people, and it all just came out. At the
end of speaking, I said that I wanted to sing a song. I felt intimidated
and a bit horrified by the thought of doing this. But I also knew that there was a song that
was ready to burst out of me and I really had no choice. At the time, this kind of singing was new to
me and I certainly had never expressed myself like this before in front of a
group of people.
I stood and
said, "I dedicate this song to The
Ghost Children", and then toned without words, singing a song of the
torment, anguish and pain. I sang of the injustice from the adults who
had harmed us. I screamed with tones, my
arms outstretched to the heavens, "How could this happen?" But then, finally, the energy shifted within
me. There was an actual release, an actual letting go. And my song began
to change. With time, it became calmer, richer and complete.
It is common for children of abuse to feel tainted. It is why we
don't let people in. It’s as if we live by the creed, “Let me reject you,
before you figure out who I really am and you reject me”. I assumed once
I told my story and sang my song in the circle that day, I would be politely
shunned. What else could they do after knowing what they then knew about
me. I will never forget what happened after I finished my song and sat
down. Without a moments pause, all 25
people unanimously jumped to their feet and came to me, to hold me and tell me
how much they loved me.
+++++
Closing the laptop, and with snotty
tissues strewn all about me; I have accomplished the task. Now, perhaps and finally, a peaceful sleep.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Which is better: Squarespace vs Word Press?
Let's just say that I am designing my new business website on Squarespace as we speak, and I'm so fucking excited I think I'm going to pee my pants.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
How to Talk to the Dead
Good news! I got confirmation that I will be teaching again at Goddess Fest this year (Boise Idaho). Saturday July 23rd from 8-9 pm. This year's topic - How to Talk to the Dead. Here's the class description and bio. Hope to see you there.
Are you having trouble with unwanted spirits in your home and in your life? Do you find it difficult to connect with those that have passed on – the ones you want to reach? Susan will cover aspects in this class such as effective protection from unwanted spirits, healthy relationship development with those that have passed, and helping the dead cross over (psychopomp work).
Susan Fullmer is a local practitioner who provides intuitive readings, energy healings, and teachings on a wide variety of metaphysical techniques. She has over 25 years of experience. She also hosts a radio talk show called, All Things Woo Woo (see Facebook page by the same name).
Are you having trouble with unwanted spirits in your home and in your life? Do you find it difficult to connect with those that have passed on – the ones you want to reach? Susan will cover aspects in this class such as effective protection from unwanted spirits, healthy relationship development with those that have passed, and helping the dead cross over (psychopomp work).
Susan Fullmer is a local practitioner who provides intuitive readings, energy healings, and teachings on a wide variety of metaphysical techniques. She has over 25 years of experience. She also hosts a radio talk show called, All Things Woo Woo (see Facebook page by the same name).
Monday, June 13, 2016
Radio Podcast: This is what a Psychic Medium looks like
Radio Talk Show Podcast 6/12/2016:
This is what a psychic medium looks like
Chatting with Aprilynn Noriega and her friend Brittani Raindancing Merchild. Fun, Fun, Fun. Lots of good information for the Intuitive and the Magical. And specific, helpful information for Empaths. They also have a series of classes to help children acknowledge their intuitive abilities. Life is sweeter when we embrace who we truly are.
Contact information for Aprilynn Noriega, Psychic Medium.
208-860-5068
intuitivereadingsforlife@gmail.com
www.secondsightboise.com
208-860-5068
intuitivereadingsforlife@gmail.com
www.secondsightboise.com
See more pictures of these lovely ladies on the radio Facebook page.
Podcast 6/12/2016
You can also catch my show live
every Sunday from 5-7 pm Idaho, Mountain Time Zone.
every Sunday from 5-7 pm Idaho, Mountain Time Zone.
You can stream it from any computer with internet at
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