Follow the Snowy Owl

Lessons of Love – how it began…

Italy – origin of yummy food, tasty red wine and lovely people who make you feel at home immediately.

True, absolutely, and I was looking very much forward to travel to the Abruzzo mountains in July this year (2019). Invited by my lovely friend and soul sister Lia who would celebrate her wedding in the tiny village San Benedetto in Perillis where – quote from local musician Michele – ‘energy lines cross’.

We were about to move from Colombia to Perú as our tourist visa expired and the week in Italy seemed a welcome distraction from health certificates for dogs, airline hotlines and putting bags on scales to fit their demands.

And then life struck.

Having had two fabulous days with Lia and her friends I woke up in my pension early and felt a little dizzy. No hangover, no jetlag, something was just ‘not okay’.
I got up out of bed and suddenly I felt my consciousness being kidnapped by … well, someone? Something? An entity? Still today, almost half a year later, I have no clue what this was or is. Although I have received hints from humans and spirits. But in this very moment I felt that this body and mind were no longer under my (who is ‘my’?) control. And the panic struck..!
I somehow managed to get to my soul sister’s home and asked her to have a close eye on me. She’s a doctor, so that helped and calmed my fear a bit. After one hour of relaxing on the family’s sofa I ‘came back’ and joined the wedding’s preparations. And for the rest of the week all was good.

But the memory of these one or two hours had burnt itself deeply into my memory. 

And only some days later the panic was back, accompanied by the shift in consciousness. A not so spectacular night in Bogotá, getting to bed and suddenly… suddenly my consciousness went somewhere else. I am struggling to find fitting words for what happened because it was beyond anything I ever experienced. 
Earlier that year I had adopted a shamanic chant from my taita and began to call the indigenous ancestors of his tribe to help me stay ‘here’. Whatever ‘here’ means… I fought hard, for the rest of the night, and when finally Father Sun set his rays into the world I relaxed and fell asleep.

The panic and shift of consciousness came back once or twice until October when I flew from Cuzco to Lima, a one-hour-something-flight and caught by this shift of consciousness so hard that I was seriously considering checking myself into a hospital that day. In a foreign city without anyone to take care of me. ‘You are ruled by your fears now’, whatsapped Lia from Italy and I guess she was right. It took all my inner strength to overcome the fear and projection of going mad and finally I returned to Cuzco and told my wife that the very next day I would surrender and get myself locked up in a clinic. Very well knowing what that would mean and what path would await me. Panic struck me so hard, then the tears came and finally I was but a sobbing wreck with no strength or hope at all.

Medication seemed the only solution (and I am not saying my way is always the right one!) but my wife suggested to see a female shaman who was highly recommended by a friend-of-trust the next morning. And I agreed to take the chance. Last exit before drugging and leaving my path.

We drove to Pisac, a small village about half an hour away from Cuzco and I sat down on a wooden chair opposite of Karen, a gentle woman with loving, loving eyes. Karen took my hands and with a firm voice (while I cried like a little child) she explained how I would be cured:

‘No drugs. No nothing. Believe in yourself, trust your inner strength. Say aloud: I am a son of Love. I am a son of Light. I am a son of Healing. Take your time playing with your daughter. Be patient.’

I stared at her, couldn’t believe that this experienced woman with all her abilities and access to plant remedy was really saying this. But she confirmed and what can I say…
This is what I did and it worked.

It wasn’t funny, of course, and more than once I had very hard times (stay tuned for this journey…) and there are days like this January, 1st but in the end…
I survived.
I learned.
I opened my heart.

(Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash)

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