Way of the Shaman


A weekend workshop

Synchronicity, as I understand it, works like a metal detector: the closer we get to our path, the more coincidences appear. We begin to go with the flow. Traffic lights turn green. In small ways and large, magic crackles in the air.

And the reverse is true, when everything feels blocked and life closes down. This is where I was when beeps started sounding on the detector.

It began with dreams about the Black Madonna, which I was following on the Jung Forum: the last was a dream on numbers, adding up to 22, which introduced me to the shamanic Pythagoras; and my own dream in the collection led back to 'lucid dreaming'. Then a Forum member sent a dream of a Crossing that led to the Language of the Birds. Three dreams by different people seeming to converge on a new way - but what was it?

On 6 August 2005 some bees visited our communal hall for a couple of nights. At the same time, I saw this picture (below) of a Rosicrucian Cross in the form of a flower (22 petals) giving honey to the bees. What was this 'Language of the Birds'? I thought about my writing on Eleusis and its Bee-priestesses, which was blocked.

On 10 September a psychic said I had done shamanic work in previous lives which involved a kind of lucid dreaming, and should reconnect with it. Apparently this was the cause of my block, and the missing element in my writing.

On 21 September I walked into Watkins Bookshop to follow up his suggestions, and there at the front was 'The Shamanic Way of the Bee' by Simon Buxton.

The book said Demeter, the Bee-goddess at Eleusis, is 'Queen of Synchronicity'; and, to press home the point, 'pollen has 22 chemical constituents'. Then reading about the bees' golden hives, I noticed my room had become golden too. The walls were the original mustard colour, the standard lamp sent out a yellow glow, and new gold curtains and cushions completed the effect.

The 26th of September was just warm enough to read in the park. I half-expected a visit, but the first bee took me by surprise. A great buzzing began about my ears, and I heard myself shouting 'Go away, go away!' arms waving. Not a good start! So I asked the bee to try again - gently. Ten minutes later another buzzing. I forced myself to keep still. Then it went quiet. I looked about nervously, and sitting on the bench beside me was a little yellow bee, very beautiful in the autumn sunlight, its heart pounding like mine.

The book had a website address, where I saw Simon was running an introductory workshop in London in two weeks. They had a spare place, so I had to go.

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