When enough light pierces the darkness that I can safely venture forth, I attempt to extract myself from the sarcophagus of my mummy bag. It appears that my leg is glued to my clothing and sleeping bag. A close inspection reveals the death of a happy leech. One of these tiny, inch-long, pipe cleaner shaped blood-suckers had died a happy death indeed. It had morphed into a large cucumber sized gelatinous mass before being squished in one of my wigging attempts to get comfortable. In vain I attempt to communicate to a porter that this sleeping bag should not be rented again without laundering. I offer my profound apology to whomever received it next.
This bloodletting, which left a deep dent in my right calf, is considered an auspicious omen. I am told it removed any impurities that might prevent me from experiencing the greatest benefits from the initiation.
Another good omen is my recurring dream last night of an army of ants marching through my house despite my efforts to stop them. My companions suggest that the spirits are seeking to communicate with me and I should be open to receive this communication. This coincides with the messages I received during last evening’s OBE.
Somehow “making a pilgrimage to a monastery” conjures a far more expansive image in my brain than hiking barefoot up several miles of gritty stone trail to reach this tiny compound perched rather precariously on steep, uneven, boulder-strewn ground.
After weeks of heavy clouds, the sky clears revealing the magnificent spires of the Annapurna mountain range. In my joy at the morning sun and the magnificent view, I, a card-carding member of non-singers anonymous, am lifted to a previously unknown level of freedom as I sing songs I had never heard.
As the time approached for my initiation, I am positively giddy. It could be the altitude, lack of food and sleep, the prospect of getting off the hill, or self-congratulations for all it took to get me here, but I am happy. Our small band bangs our drums and sings and dances. Never mind that I am left-handed and therefore insulting tradition. Never mind that I am off tune and clumsy on the uneven ground. Never mind that I know I look idiotic in my strange costume. Never mind that I need a bath and carry leech guts on my leg. Never mind anything that should matter, I am at home here. Exactly as I am, I am alive and well and experiencing a freedom I have seldom known.
As I sing and dance on our approach toward the outdoor altar I am humbled that I have been there before, last night, without my body. I know the place. The wonderfully familiar spirits of the place welcome me back. They ask me to help my people at home reconnect with the spirits of that faraway place.
Go out and connect with the spirits of the place where you live. They will welcome you and celebrate your presence.
This bloodletting, which left a deep dent in my right calf, is considered an auspicious omen. I am told it removed any impurities that might prevent me from experiencing the greatest benefits from the initiation.
Another good omen is my recurring dream last night of an army of ants marching through my house despite my efforts to stop them. My companions suggest that the spirits are seeking to communicate with me and I should be open to receive this communication. This coincides with the messages I received during last evening’s OBE.
Somehow “making a pilgrimage to a monastery” conjures a far more expansive image in my brain than hiking barefoot up several miles of gritty stone trail to reach this tiny compound perched rather precariously on steep, uneven, boulder-strewn ground.
After weeks of heavy clouds, the sky clears revealing the magnificent spires of the Annapurna mountain range. In my joy at the morning sun and the magnificent view, I, a card-carding member of non-singers anonymous, am lifted to a previously unknown level of freedom as I sing songs I had never heard.
As the time approached for my initiation, I am positively giddy. It could be the altitude, lack of food and sleep, the prospect of getting off the hill, or self-congratulations for all it took to get me here, but I am happy. Our small band bangs our drums and sings and dances. Never mind that I am left-handed and therefore insulting tradition. Never mind that I am off tune and clumsy on the uneven ground. Never mind that I know I look idiotic in my strange costume. Never mind that I need a bath and carry leech guts on my leg. Never mind anything that should matter, I am at home here. Exactly as I am, I am alive and well and experiencing a freedom I have seldom known.
As I sing and dance on our approach toward the outdoor altar I am humbled that I have been there before, last night, without my body. I know the place. The wonderfully familiar spirits of the place welcome me back. They ask me to help my people at home reconnect with the spirits of that faraway place.
Go out and connect with the spirits of the place where you live. They will welcome you and celebrate your presence.
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