The Dance of Life and Death

Hello sisters,

I read an article (called the Ecstacy Manifesto) written by Victoria Hanchin in an online magazine called the Catalyst. It reminded me of an experience I had several years ago during a Shamanic Journey, so I thanked her for the inspiration and sent her an account of my own experience that spoke to the same principle. Vikki kindly responded to my email and told me about the wonderful women sharing stories from around the world on World Pulse. She encouraged me to join and post my journal entry here. So here is my story:

The Dance of Life and Death

I lay on my bedroll as though I have been steamrolled flat. I am exhausted; my throat is scratchy and coated with the smoke of sage and sweet grass. We have been journeying for about 11 hours. My mind grumbles for food, water, and a comfortable bed, but my spirit is excited. The Shaman tells us we have one more journey to make. This time we will simply send love and healing to some place on the planet.

My mind immediately jumps ahead and decides upon Iraq, but when the drumming begins my heart whispers, “Euphrates, the fertile crescent, the cradle of civilization”. In a flash I am there looking down upon the river delta. Its outer banks are lightly dusted with a scruff of vegetation; the sand of its inner banks finely sculpted. From above, the ancient river delta resembles an earthen vagina.

A huge metal shaft suddenly plunges deep into the sand, ripping it open. Blood spurts forth and fills the river. It feels like the Earth is being raped, and all at once I am aware that war is being waged all around the area. Devastation and destruction are everywhere.

I look on in horror and pray for help to stop the desecration, and I am suddenly surrounded by what feels like millions of spirits, I hear the words “we are legion”. The spirits tell me to look more closely at the blood that is filling the river. I then see that it is oil, not blood, and that a slick is forming on the water. Sunlight glints off its surface creating rainbow-like colors. As I watch, the colors begin to rise in the form of dancing spirits. These many-hued spirits represent all deities and all nations – human, animal, insect, plant and element. They dance with abandon, and in celebration.

Distraught, I call out to them, “Why are you dancing, can’t you see what is happening?” They beckon me, telling me to join them. They want me to focus on the dance, not the violence. But I can’t. I’m too caught up in fear, judgment, and outrage. Again, I pray for help.

My prayers triggered a memory. I see myself back in Tibet in the company of an elderly nun. She takes me into the courtyard of the abbey where the she explains how the sisters were routinely beaten to death (by the Chinese militia) for refusing to denounce the Dalai Lama. She describes the situation with perfect equanimity. When I ask her how she managed to withstand witnessing such brutality, she looked at me with compassion for my ignorance and replied gently, “They’re not very enlightened, you see.”

The nun then takes me by the hand and returns me to the river delta where the spirits continue to dance in the heart of the battle zone. She says, “Dance for the enlightenment of all”.

Reluctant at first, I allow myself to be drawn into the dance. I release into its energy, and feel my own spirit begin to rise in celebration. I understand now that this is all part of a bigger picture – a way of offering something more compelling than the destructive force – a great rebalancing of energy and intent.

With the spirits we form a multi-colored conga line, weaving in and out of the skirmishes. At one moment we resemble a brilliant Chinese Dragon at a New Year’s Celebration, and in the next we are like a wild parade of Mardi Gras participants.

We snake dance our way in, around, and through the battles, collecting more and more people along the way. We dance our way around the world. We are spirit dancers, dancing a spell of peace. We dance for balance; we dance for life and death.

Peace to you all,

Gael