When I reached my cousins, the extent of the move and all of the preparations for the trip began to catch up with me. I had a difficult time staying awake, no matter the time of the day. The only time I had slowed down in the past month and a half was when I had gotten in the car to leave.

Despite the tiredness, I enjoyed seeing my cousin June, her husband Joe, her two daughters Joanna and Julia and their husbands, and the two new additions, Joanna and Bruce’s son Jacob and Julia and Justin’s son Jack, born two days apart nine months ago. Both adorable, and very different, kind of like their moms!

The weather was spectacular and the first day I hopped in the truck with Joe as he went out to the land and worked. Hopping in and out of the truck to help Joe was very familiar, having done that hundreds of times with my dad growing up in South Dakota. The Daehling Ranch is 400 acres, 60 of which are in Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio grapes, 100 acres devoted to nursery plants that they sell retail to the public, and the rest pasture land where 150+ Thoroughbred horses are boarded. They have even built a racetrack for training the horses.

The land is beautiful, with a river bordering the south edge and large trees shading the winding roads. Spring flowers are in abundance, and white egrets peppered the green meadows edging up to the ponds that dot the land.

Every October, Joe and June host a carriage drive on their land, where dozens of drivers with their horses make the circuit, then come back for a feast. Their hope is to someday create a carriage museum to showcase their passion for this part of the horse world.

I helped Joe replace some grape plants that had not made it past the deer, then hooked up the porta-potti trailer to take back to the yard. We checked in with some of the workers to see their progress in taking out diseased vines to prepare for replacing them. Farming is so much work. It always amazes me the love farmers have for what they do. I’m very grateful, and seeing the work being done made me appreciate even more what it takes to make a bottle of wine.

As Joe and I drove back to the ranch house, a coyote appeared on the edge of the road. He stopped and looked at us, wondering what we were doing on his land. His appearance reminded me of the coyote I had encountered in Chaco Canyon last October. In the night, as I lay under the clear sky, the coyotes sang their song on the canyon walls above me. The sound was beautiful and eerie, sending tingling chills through my body. The next day, as I drove out of the campground, I looked down to grab my map. When I focused back on the road, I saw a coyote squatting in the middle of the pavement, peeing. We both jumped with surprise at each other. I veered to miss him, and he sprung into the desert brush.

Since then the Heyokah card has come up several times, once in my Shamanic Writing Level II class, then again the next day in the Shamanic Writing Level I. Heyokah is the medicine of coyote, a trickster who teaches lessons through being contrary, through laughter, and through seeing different perspectives. I have been wondering what lessons I am to learn… and more important, how.

One of the most interesting parts of the journey through the Redwoods occurred about half-way to Stout Grove. I had stopped at a huuuuuuge tree stump. There was a river-crossing a little farther down the road and I saw a van angled to a stop on the bridge. A couple was standing on the far side. I didn’t think anything of it until I was back in my car and driving past them. I stopped to ask if they were okay, and found out that in fact, their van had dropped its drive train. They had already contacted help and it was on the way.

I asked if they needed any water or food, as they had been waiting for awhile and would need to wait even longer for their rescue. The woman asked if I had any water, which I fished out of the back of my very packed car.

We started chatting about being in the Redwoods and the mystical, spiritual place that it is. They asked what I did to allow me to travel and work and I told them I was a writer, shamanic practitioner, and a writing coach. Turns out, the gentleman was also an author — 40 books published to date. He is also a biochemist, physicist, and herbalist. He opened Beltane Books in Seattle and wrote such books as “The Magical and Ritual Use of Herbs”. His most recent book is “The Modern Alchemist”. Read more about him at his website: www.richardalanmiller.com.
His partner, Marie Zancanaro is also an herbalist and a shamanic practitioner. She has developed a soap that when used, helps reduce or eliminate a person’s sensitivity to poison oak. We talked for about an hour, covering a wide range of topics from spirituality to herbs. Quite enlightening, and a wonderful couple to meet. I look forward to connecting with them again for more interesting conversations.

There are no coincidences!

Friday morning I had scheduled several coaching sessions, and so I set up my office in the hotel room. I realized immediately I needed to set up some systems in my organization. Times like these you appreciate routine.

However, once I was on the road, I settled back into the beauty of the drive. I had been advised by the information lady to take a dirt road to Stout Grove, a short drive that would reveal several 1500 year-old Redwoods. The road sloped into a canyon dropping me into a wonderland of gigantic beings, dripping with moss and rain, some so tall I could barely see their tops.

Here’s a video of one of the trees I stopped to view. This is my first video on this camera, so be forewarned. I have room for improvement . I took many more videos, but haven’t figured out how to rotate them for you to view them through YouTube. Again, I’ll keep improving on getting these in front of you.

The rain stopped just as I reached the Stout Grove hiking trail, which dropped me even further into the forest. The trees towered above, standing guard. The only sound I heard was the river in the distance. I was able to step inside the trunk of one tree that had its interior burned. It wrapped itself around me, protective and dry. I could feel the pulse of the tree as it surrounded me, a gentle, lulling sense of grounding.

The diameters of some of the trees in this grove were more than 20 feet, taking 7-9 adults to join hands around them. The fallen ones revealed the size of their roots, massive and shallow. I cannot imagine what it would be like to hear one fall.

As I made my way back to the car, the rain started again in ernest. Good timing, as I needed to get on the road if I were to get to my cousins that night at a decent time. Seven hours later, I pulled into their yard at 11:15 and went straight to bed. They had left things for me and had already gone to sleep.

A lot has happened in the past few days, despite my utter exhaustion. After weeks of moving and preparing for the trip, I hit the mental and physical wall after I reached my cousins Thoroughbred Ranch, in Elk Grove, CA.

But I get ahead of myself. Wednesday after several day’s delay, I hit I-5 south, not sure if I should just head down to June and Joe’s (my cousins) directly, or still go with my original plan to see the Redwoods. As I neared Corvallis, where I had lived for nearly 20 years, I was pulled to go to the coast via Waldport.

What I hadn’t thought about was that I would literally be driving past all of my former residences. It was as if I were shedding old energy, glimpsing familiar places that were now foreign, part of my memory, but no longer part of my life. The message I got was that in all cases, life moves on. And it’s not where you are that holds the key to life’s wonders; it’s how you look at where you are.

The last day of the move, as I was closing the door on the Raven Lodge for the last time, one of my spirit guides tapped me on the shoulder and said, “If you think this is good, wait til you see what’s next!” I thought about all the places I had lived and realized that every time, I was able to land in something better than the last, and all were beautiful. And so I left with a new perspective on the what might lie ahead.

The drive down the coast was beautiful, with sun pouring down on the dazzling water. There was a stiff breeze behind me, and just south of Florence, dark clouds appeared on the horizon. By Brookings, it was raining. By Crescent City, California, just outside the Redwoods, it was pouring. I found a hotel and after digging through my things to find what I needed, I set up camp for the evening.

I had taken a brief detour off 101 to drive through the edge of Jedediah Smith National Park as I approached Crescent City. After winding through increasingly dense forest, I was rewarded with a grove of the stately ancient ones. I’ve seen them before, but they always take my breath away when I see them again.

The trees are calling to me. I realized that on my drive, even before I came to these giants. They have a message for me that I am to discover on this journey. It’s time to find out what they have to say.

To let you all know, I’m having some trouble getting my videos from my Droid to my Mac. So, I’m sorry I don’t have anything yet for you. Soon, very soon .

M.

After much moving and getting all of my animals securely in their new temporary home, I hit the road yesterday. Still recovering from all of the changes, and getting organized in my packing. This is a note to say that I’ll be making some posts tomorrow to get up-to-date. Today, it’s off to the Redwoods to spend time with their incredible energy. More to come!

The realness of leaving the Lodge is starting to sink in. Today I awoke with all that I have to do, and with the realization that in less than two weeks I will be on the road to a new stage of my life.

Feeling sadness, with a touch of doubt about my choosing to leave for three months, I sat down to do my daily ritual of drawing a Sacred Path Card: The Discovery of Self Through Native Teachings.

Sacred Path Cards by Jamie Sams

I also have a new deck called Wisdom of the Hidden Realms by Colette Baron-Reid, a very beautiful set of cards that help bridge the worlds of the material and the spiritual.

Wisdom of the Hidden Realms by Colette Baron-Reid

The question on my mind the past day or so was “why not just move into Portland instead of hitting the road?” The first card I drew was Painted Face, which speaks of self-expression, to use my creativity to express my feelings, talents, and desires.

Yesterday I taught the third day-long workshop in Shamanic Writing Level II, which is all about how to be creative and what to do with that creativity. One of the principles of my teaching is that creativity is healing as well as productive, which the card reading said in black and white. The card pointed to this time of allowing the Medicine of the Self to emerge, to offer the gift of my Medicine to others who may have need of my talents. The card went on to say that changing appearance, attitudes, and activities to match the healed me is called for at this time. It’s always amazing to me that the cards reflect exactly what is happening. I’ve been dying to the old in many ways, and leaving the Lodge seems to be another reflection of that in my life (read Shaman’s Death post for more on dying to the old).

Then I went to shuffle the Hidden Realms cards and saw at the bottom of the deck the Mapmaker of Destiny card. I thought to myself, now wouldn’t that be the card to draw. I shuffled thoroughly for about a minute, and lo and behold, that’s the card I drew!

The card reading says it’s a sign that I’m being given an opportunity to transform Fate into Destiny. A Map of Destiny shows all the places I’m meant to visit, places where I will be challenged to evolve into the highest aspects of the Self. Fate represents the events in my life that were meant to happen and that I can’t change. Fate is transformed into Destiny according to how I respond to my circumstances. Destiny offers me the ability to make great opportunities out of fated experience, so free will and choice are possible at certain points on my map.

Apparently, NOW is one of those times. I’m faced with a circumstance brought to me by Fate. How I respond will lead to my perfect Destiny. The Challenge is to face the things within me that must change in order for me to express my highest good.

No matter which form they take, all challenges and allies are perfect expressions of Fate inviting me into my Destiny. The final line of the reading: “Remember that Fate makes the map, but Destiny is determined by the manner in which I engage my journey.”

I wasn’t given the choice to leave the Lodge, but now that Fate has shown its cards, it is how I proceed that is leading to my Destiny. I just need to breathe and trust that all is being shown exactly when I need it.

Blessings on Your Path,

Marilyn

The sight before me was all too familiar. I had seen it years ago, before I had begun my shamanic studies. The head sliced from the body, attached only by a narrow piece of skin, the mouth opening and closing, gasping for air, eyes staring, seeking but not comprehending. Only a thin connection remained to what was left of the snake’s life, a single thread tenuously grasping on to what it knew just moments before. I watched as the unscathed and beautiful body stilled. I stood stunned, knowing I could never reverse the fatal damage I had inflicted.

The horror I felt was overwhelming, images flashing of the first time I had been witness to this ghastly scene of running over a snake with a mower. I felt queasy as a wave of nauseating energy swept through my body. It was as if my own throat had been cut, my own body dismembered, dying, with so much life left unlived. The pain, sorrow, and guilt that surfaced caused my body to tense, my mind to reel.

I ran from the scene, no longer able to bear the passing of life. Overwhelmed by emotion, I cried to the spirits, “Why?” An innocent life, ended so brutally. What kind of universe is it that something so cruel can happen, not once, but twice in my life? I was dizzy with anger, frustration, sadness, and disbelief. I stumbled to the front yard, dazed and confused, filled with rage and sorrow, so many unanswered questions swirling in my mind. What more could happen? What other challenges would I have to face before the seemingly unending series of failures that had happened in my life would stop?

I sat down on the bench overlooking the river in front of the Lodge and stared, unseeing, at the beautiful scene in front of me, a stark contrast to the death I had just witnessed. And as if in a movie where all the scenes pass on the screen at breakneck speed, images of my life’s struggles, the obstacles I had faced, the mistakes I had made, the choices I wished I could undo, swept through my mind. So many things had brought me to this point.

I took a deep breath, and my mind slowed. “It was a snake,” I said to myself. “I used to hate snakes. Why does its death feel so significant? What message am I supposed to be getting?” Then, very gently, a voice whispered in my ear. “There is a reason for everything. Remember what you asked for. Now is the time to live it.”

What I asked for? This was it? I couldn’t see the connection. I thought back to last year, as I was preparing for my fourth vision quest practicum, the last direction of the Medicine Wheel. North, the place of insight and wisdom – and perseverance. The final quest was to be a culmination of a journey, bringing together all that I had learned in the previous three years of seeking and understanding my path in the world.

I had asked for grace so that I would have a clear understanding of what I was writing about in my book, Stumbling Through Fear, Falling Into Grace. Be careful what you ask for. At the time of the snake’s death, I had just experienced my most heart-wrenching, difficult, and challenging year of my life. Time after time, I had been reminded to walk with grace as I faced each obstacle and loss.

As I sat wondering what the spirits were trying to show me by the severing of the snake’s head, I suddenly realized that being in grace meant accepting the unwanted, of dealing with pain with understanding and significance, to honor those things that were showing me the way, no matter how challenging or unwanted.

Gathering a candle and a few altar items, I went back to the snake in the back yard and helped its spirit pass to the light. I sat there for hours crying, letting my emotions spill out until there was nothing left.

And in that empty space, I heard another message: “You must die to the past. How you have been choosing no longer serves you. It is necessary to change all that is holding you back.”

Then I remembered one of the first Shamanic Journeys I had ever done years ago. It was a dismemberment journey, where my power animal, the snake, came to me and disassembled me to help me “re-member” my true self. The snake came directly to me and without any fanfare proceeded to bite off my head. Nothing else, just my head. He chewed it up and spit it out into a fire. From the fire, a whirlwind of the pieces formed a tornado, the force of the energy reforming my head into a bright light of iridescent colors. He then carefully replaced it onto my body.

At the time, I took the meaning to be of getting out of my head and back into my heart. As I sat there mourning the loss of the snake in my back yard, I realized that I hadn’t really done that. I was still letting my head lead the way, allowing fear to influence all of my choices. The snake’s death culminating a year of setbacks seemed to be amplifying the message. How I had been operating in the world wasn’t working. It took the severing of my power animal’s head to show me that.

That night, the summer breezes blew through my bedroom windows, gently rocking me into a deep sleep. The emotions of the day had exhausted me. In the middle of the night I heard my cats playing in the room. When I got up to use the bathroom and switched on the light, I saw that they had captured and killed a bat that had apparently flown in through the screen-less window.

Two deaths in a day. I felt horrible that it was taking the lives of these animals to show me life lessons. I immediately went to the Medicine Power book by Jamie Sams to read about the medicine of the bat.

What I found was that the bat symbolizes rebirth. How appropriate. The cycle must continue, first death to the old, then rebirth. The passage continued that the bat reflected the Shaman’s Death. In some cultures, the Shaman is put through a ritual so demeaning and difficult that some do not come through with their sanity intact. In order to heal and know what others are experiencing, the Shaman must know the shadow side as well as the light. The rituals they endure are called the Shaman’s Death.

I realized that I had been experiencing the Shaman’s Death for some time, in particular the past year. The choice I had was to fight it and continue to experience more of the same, or to embrace what the spirits were showing me and truly die to my old self, the self of fear; of making choices based on an external, egoic view; of worry and regret; of patterns and habits that were harmful. It was time to step into a new me, or rather, the true expression of me that has always been there, but hidden behind self-created masks and beliefs.

That day was a turning point. I saw a new fork on my path. I could choose to continue the patterns that had gotten me to this point, or I could begin to let go of what no longer served me, no matter how deep I needed to go to unravel their hold on me.

As I fell back to sleep, I felt a sense of relief and release. I thanked the spirits of the snake and bat for their sacrifice to help me see my path more clearly, and fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.