I waited for him in the hotel lobby. No sense denying it, this woman was very nervous. I had never met a Shaman before, let alone one called a Maker. How does one prepare for such an auspicious occasion? The only way possible, by being myself, a person over the brink with questions, in the grips of attempting to understand by any means necessary. Not that I hadn't been full of them before. They had defined my life, the questions, the search for answers or at least one freaking answer would be helpful.
Why was I so drawn to finding answers from this particular person? The fact was, I didn't trust him. I could not afford to get my soul broken yet again, hence the meeting. Still there was something, something there that felt real, had depth. These so-called 'practices' worked, especially that really weird one, the Recapitulation. Never before had I found power within myself. It defied explanation and maybe that was part of both the thrill and the terror.
I felt his intense presence before hearing him. The lobby doors whooshed open. A tall, confident man in a black leather jacket and sunglasses strutted into the room and landed his gaze directly on me. I felt split in two.
"There you are" (big smile) "Glad you made it okay. C'mon, let's get something to eat."
"Hi, you look different than I imagined" was my opening greeting. So far, he was normal looking, which probably had nothing to do with anything. A covering for more.
The hotel restaurant was almost empty and a choice was made to sit in the back, so we could talk. I sat across from him and looked into his eyes, for a sign. Time went wonky. My head felt ready to explode. I let out a big sigh and melted into the chair. How long had we been here? Suddenly, food appeared.
We ate, he talked. He talked about himself, about his grandfather, about me. He told me things about myself, things no one could have known. Not because they were so special or secret. Somehow, they were my experiences, yet in a way I had never experienced. And I had been the one there. He shifted me to see, to relive my past without the pain. To have compassion and understanding and see connections to other events that didn't seem connected and – he gave me answers.
Whatever was happening, this thing he did, it was strangely comforting. In the midst of feelingpulled apart and put back together again, I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to tell him how important this was to me. To understand myself was to be free.
"I want to do this, to be like you." I was falling off a cliff, the sensation was visceral.
"Okay, we'll see.
"What's next? How does this happen?"
"Just keep asking questions."
My agreement was made.
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