In Nepal I met a Swedish backpacker that had bought a huge bag of weed. He was taking a domestic flight and it never occurred to him that they might check his luggage there also, so he had casually packed the weed at the very top of his carry-on luggage. He landed in Kathmandu and was singled out for inspection.
The inspector opened his carry-on and took out the huge bag of weed. He then continued to empty out the guy’s pullover, t-shirt, sunglasses, guide book and water bottle. At the very bottom of the bag he found a neatly tied plastic bag with a couple of used batteries. The inspector took the bag, turned to the guy, demonstratively waved the batteries at him and scolded him:
– Certainly you know that you are not allowed to have batteries on the plane? You can’t just have them lying around like that!
– They were worn out and I couldn’t find a recycling station, the Swede excused himself.
– That makes absolutely no difference! You never, ever fly with batteries. I never want to see you do something that stupid again! Got it?
The irritated inspector confiscated the batteries and then packed the guys bag again. The water bottle, guide book, sunglasses, t-shirt, pullover and last the huge bag of weed. He zipped up the carry-on and with a frown pushed it over to the Swede.
– Go. Just go.
Photo: Favourite Flight by Sam Hawley on Flickr
I once crossed paths with a most peculiar woman at a gathering. I can’t really tell what she was, but she had the look of a gypsy witch shaman. With her she had an apprentice and a helper. I never spoke directly with her, but I did get the chance to study her.
As I did so I saw her vanish into thin air and then she would reappear somewhere else entirely. Her vanishing would go fast, as the blink of an eye. It was really strange and it took me a long time to understand how she did it. This is how.
We all usually have signifiers in our appearance, things that make us stand out. It can be our big red hair, a special scarf, odd sneakers, colourful details on our clothing or a way of walking. Often we have several such signifiers. When we look for someone in a crowd we are actually looking for their signifiers and if we can’t find their signifiers we assume they are not there.
The woman I was watching was both skilful and clever. Her outfit had several signifiers that were easy to notice, but what I came to understand was that they were also easy to hide. With a few quick moves she would cover her signifiers, assume another body posture, a little limp and as it would appear – vanish into thin air.
Photo: HOLI – THE FESTIVAL OF COLOURS by Diganta Talukdar on Flickr
After 13 years of intensive drinking I finally sobered up. Five years later I was at a friend’s place when some of her friends dropped by. They were close to wasted but not quite yet and of course the one that was the most drunk stumbled over to collapse next to me. He had close to no control over his body and spilt beer all around.
– Hi, I’m Hansch, he said and offered me his beer drenched hand.
– Yes, I know. We have met several times before, I answered.
– We have? he asked sincerely surprised.
– I have even been to your apartment.
– Do you want schome beer, he asked apologetically and spilt some beer on me.
– No thanks. I don’t drink.
– What? Don’t drink?
– Alcohol is a poison. I don’t want it in my life.
The rest of the people knew very well why I had quit and were quite amused at our conversation.
– Oh no, alcohol is good, Hans explained. You become fun and schoscial. You feel good when you drink. You schould try it schometime. You’d like it. Here, have schome of mine.
Generously he offered me his beer before not so graciously dropping it in my lap.
– Oh no, I’m schorry, he said as he fumbled for the can in my lap.
He got hold of the bottom of the can and managed to pour the rest of the beer all over my legs.
Even if I was irritated to be beer drenched I couldn’t really be angry because it was so obviously beer karma. I had been fumbly Hans so many times towards other people that I had it coming.
Photo: Drunk singing by Leonid Mamchenkov on Flickr
Many years back I had a bottle of LSD with only a few drops left. One evening I emptied the bottle in my mouth, filled it with a little water, shook it and took that too. The dose was way higher than I had anticipated and left me quite incapacitated. There was absolutely no risk to it, but I did spend a lot of time crawling on the floor as the universe opened up before my eyes and gave me lessons on perspectives.
At that time I was spiritually awakening but I hadn’t connected to my inner shaman, so I was quite surprised at the long sequence of automated behaviour that followed. I was fully aware of what my body was doing, but I was not doing it. There was no thought, only automated actions and it was obvious that my body knew how to do them.
In this mode of automated action I stood up on unsteady legs and I then smudged my entire home for the first time ever. There was chanting and speaking coming from my mouth, but I was not creating it. It was just there, flowing through me. When I came to the kitchen I got all the food out and I sorted it into food with good and food with bad energy. As before there was no thought behind it. There was no “oh, I should have a look at my food” and no “is this good or bad for me?”. I simply took something and the feeling in me quickly determined if it was good or bad. Unsurprisingly locally produced ecological wholesome foods were good and sugary snacks and foods grown with poison were bad. Half my food got sorted out that evening and was shipped off the next morning.
This automated action continued for what seemed to be several hours. It was my first glimpse into ancient knowledge that I have amassed during past lives as a shaman. I didn’t understand that back then, but it has become ever clearer to me over the years. We have all lived many lives and it is common that we tap into the knowledge we have from past lives. I have had many past lives as a shaman, so naturally that knowledge runs deep in me. It is the same with anything that takes up much of your time. I had a friend that was a natural when it came to music. Looking back into his past lives he had many lifetimes as a musician.
In this life I don’t have access to all my previous knowledge, but it quickly reveals itself to me when I am faced with a situation where it is needed. I also recognize techniques, tools and such when I see them and having used them before I quickly adapt them to work for me. The feeling it gives is that I am not actually learning things – I am simply remembering them. The difference is paramount.
Photo: The Burning Fields by Lies Thru a Lens on Flickr