I stuff my feet into sneakers and yank the laces tight as branches smash against our roof from the wind raging outside.
“Why do you feel you need to go today? You could reschedule,” my husband suggests sensibly from the kitchen sink.
Down on the floor, I look up straight into his eyes and say with intent, “Because I feel like there is something dark and twisted inside of me that’s invading the cells in my blood, and it needs to be ripped out, so I can be free!”
“That’s a good reason,” he replied while drying his hands. “Boys! Come say bye to mommy. She has to go out for a while.”
With just the encouragement I needed and shoes securely bound to my feet, I hopped up and grabbed my keys.
A frantic, disorganized thundering of feet stormed into the room. “But, hurricane Matthew is out there!” they cried.
“I’ve lived in this state most of my life. I’ve been through dozens of hurricanes, and I know that this one will not be so bad where we are.” And, considering I had been obsessively checking updates and texting back and forth with my shaman friend trying to decide if we needed to reschedule or could do this thing as planned for the last 24 hours.
My shaman had assured me that she was happy to postpone. However, since all sessions were held at her home, she was there and ready if I decided to come.
And decide I did. This pressing matter lifted me out of bed that morning and had propelled me through every step of my day so far. It’s amazing how much darkness can seep inside of you when severe injury or trauma provides a crack.
For weeks, I had been feeling the crud perpetuate itself within me. It hovered like a molasses-sticky cloud dripping malicious ooze all over me.
This appointment had been marked with a star on the calendar. To reschedule would entail coordinating around six people’s needs. And at the moment, my need urged me to trust that I could make it through this storm unharmed.
“Mommy has important things to do,” my husband said as he placed reassuring hands on the boys’ shoulders, making me wonder how much of a crazy woman I had been over the past few weeks. Perhaps it was not only in my mind.
“Be safe. Come back,” were their parting words as children suction hugged me by the door.
I pealed their arms from my body and slipped out before anything else could grab hold.
The drive required my alert attention for the entire 45 minute journey. I only slightly doubted my conviction about five miles from my destination when I saw trees bent sideways, and rain filled my windshield by the bucketful. Visibility barely 10 feet, puddles large enough to cover the width of the road ahead. Good thing I’m an excellent driver with good tires and plenty of experience driving in all sorts of weather conditions, I kept telling myself.
The symbolic nature of my challenging journey was not lost on me. The Gods were testing me, but I would not be swayed.
When I arrived, my shaman, Allegra, looked at me with a wide smile and welcomed me down her hallway and into the main room with a wall of windows.
Upon seeing what was usually a quaint creek running along side of her house turned into a raging river; a never ending torrent overcoming the banks and rocks within feet of her kitchen window, I uttered, “Are we safe?”
“Perfectly,” Allegra chirped with a jovial tone. “I’m all ready for you upstairs.”
I followed her up the steps into a cozy room filled with pieces of earth, art, and beauty, a few chairs and a futon. We settled in quickly and began calling in spirit guides and protectors to aid us in our quest for the day. This was not our first time.
As we stood, shaking rattles to the heavens above, a loud boom echoed through the land, and all went dark. The power had gone out, forcing us to open a window and allow the sound of the rushing “river” below to wash through us. It was so tremendously loud; it filled the room and our ears.
The healing session began much as others had. Allegra slowly assessed and sensed, then suddenly everything was different. She jumped up and said, “A dark energy has implanted itself inside you, is entwined around your spine, and needs to come out. Now.” She stood and started moving furniture around. “Is it okay for me to remove it?”
I had never seen her with such an anxious look, and considering I had told her nothing of my suspicions along these lines, my stomach balled into knots.
“I wasn’t just making it up? This is real?” I asked.
“Yes, quite,“ Allegra piped up as she scurried around the room gathering supplies for whatever was going to happen next. She pressed her hand into my chest, “You need to stand against the wall for support.” Urgency motivating her movements. “Brace yourself.”
She put a large smooth crystal in my left hand and started tapping my chest and stomach, calling to spirits, splashing me with water, then speaking directly and sternly to the darkness within me.
She commanded with a tone that vibrated through my bones. Her voice was authoritative and firm. I tried not to register the look of concern in her eyes.
Out, out, out! Was all I could think as the tendrils loosened and oozed across my torso, down my arm, and into the crystal heavily present in the palm of my hand. It felt much like an IV being pulling from a vein.
I sensed it leave, and relief washed over me. Allegra still worked in earnest to capture the unwelcome energy in the crystal and remove it without letting any of the darkness leak out. Now, her harsh tone had given way to speaking only pure love as she helped it find a welcoming place somewhere else.
We finally sat back to breathe deep and wipe the sweat from our brows. The power still out and no AC lent a humid experience.
I felt stunned and numb on the ride home. The heart of the storm had passed, and now just a light drizzle remained. As I drove, I soon came to a large oak tree that had fallen across the road and taken an electrical line with it. I had to turn and find another way home.
There was no going back the way I came. The message was clear: a demand to do things differently. Or, else risk providing another crack for the darkness to find its way in.
When I walked through the door, three delighted bodies greeted me, and I welcomed their embrace.
“How was it?” my husband asked.
“Perfect,” I replied, letting golden threads of love seep into all my open wounds.
Read about the time I Killed a Bat with My Bare Hands HERE.
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“I write to open up space for my heart and head to tumble, stumble, bounce, and roll. I write to explore the magic of our world and the power of words. I write to expose the tragic truth of life as well as the authentic abundance and joy. The stories are meant to inspire all of us facing the challenge of knowing and honoring our authentic self in a world of commands and demands.” – Jessica Sabatini
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