Sunday morning after breakfast, the shaman explained what he saw the night before during the ayahuasca ceremony regarding my situation. There is not much I will tell here, because it is quite personal and I am still processing the energy myself. It is too soon to share what I learned, although I have already written the story for my book “Finding Home”, which he said would be ok. Telling about what I experienced should only be done in order to help others through sharing the knowledge and perhaps after a certain amount of time has passed, the experience in order to help with understanding the process. I will do this to some extent in the book as it relates to some of the dreams I had so many years ago. This has gone a long way to giving me confirmation about what I have been processing this past year already. Each day I feel a bit stronger because of this ceremony and what he explained to me, so the gratitude is great for this gift of healing.
He told me that the cruelty with which the people who raised me was great. It seemed to him they were trying to create a monster. This statement tied into something I was told a few years ago as well. This person said to me “There are no words written today that are capable of describing what you have been through in this life”.
He gave me other information that relates to the result of this cruelty, but this is what I am choosing to keep to myself for now. The journey for me at this point is to not only remember my heritage but be able to accept who I am, now that I know the truth. By this I mean truly know it deep down inside to my core. My dreams, memories and visions gave me this information over the years, but the scope of what they told me was more than I could comprehend at the time. Now I must let this truth filter to every aspect of my being. Already I feel the strength of this truth and long to share who my parents are, be proud of my heritage rather than ashamed as I was taught to be.
While I was sitting quietly on my own after receiving the information, changing from my usual spot facing east towards the sun, I saw something that was a bit of tragedy. I was looking at the pens where the geese, chickens and turkeys are kept, watching the little goslings play. There was fresh corn given to them earlier and they were eating and swimming in their pond. Two of the goslings were together and one was beside it’s mom eating I think. On the hill beside the cage, there was a hole/tunnel where two rats were travelling back and forth stealing the corn from the pen. For the most part this was a harmless situation at least the first time I watched it happen a week or so ago. Sunday there were two of them though, and suddenly without any warning and with great speed one of the rats ran to the gosling beside it’s mom knocking it flat. It reminded me of a football tackle – it was forceful and incredibly fast. The mom chased it away, but the damage was done already. I couldn’t see the baby because the mom was in direct line of my sight, so I was unsure if it was hurt badly or not. The other babies came over to see if it was ok, and as soon as the mom moved enough for me to see the baby was still on it’s back, I ran down to see what I could do. Patrick had just come home from his walk as I was struggling to get the gate open, so I asked for his help and went in to get the little guy. We brought it into the house so we could see how bad it’s injuries were and so it could rest. It had no cuts or marks on its body, but it could not stand, it’s one foot seemed injured, so I just held it, keeping it still and warm. After some time had passed, thinking it would be better in a quiet dark place, we found a basket and a piece of cloth to put it in and waited for the family to come back to explain what happened. While I sat with the little guy, Patrick went into the pen and destroyed the opening of the rat tunnel hoping to stop further intrusions from happening.
Unfortunately, the little one did not make it, dying later that day from either shock or perhaps internal injury. Willak could not find physical reason for it’s injury and did his best to bring it back, but he could not save it. I was sad because I had hoped we got to it in time to save his life. It seemed so senseless and I could not understand the cruelty of the rat’s behaviour. There was no benefit form the act, just an angry action towards a harmless being. Today as I thought about it, it seemed like a mirror of my own childhood experience. There is no reasonable explanation for the cruelty I suffered either. This is often the way of life though, so I am working on acceptance hoping I can also forgive. Sometimes I think I have been able to forgive, but then realize that is surface only, the level I have to reach to achieve true forgiveness for the life they took from me, is very deep. It is a process.
Right around the time it died, the whole family of geese escaped from their pen walking around the house to where the kitchen is and the little one had been resting in its basket. They must have known that it was gone because as they made their way back to the pen, they made mournful sounds all the way. I could hear this from my room upstairs and wondered what was happening, why they were out of their pen after dark. When I went down a short time later I was given the answer.
The next morning each time the mom saw me she would hiss at me as if she was blaming me for her baby not returning to her. I could only apologize for her loss and tell her that I was not to blame, that I was sad for her loss. I hoped she would understand. This morning when she saw me she did not hiss at me, so I am hopeful that she has forgiven me.
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