What’s my name?

What’s my name? It sounds like a philosophical question; something existential. It has taken on new meaning for me.

Where are we? I’m not asking because I don’t know, or am trying to divine a meaning, but it’s a repeated question.

Saum has a concussion. Sometimes she’s getting better; sometimes there is a slide backwards. She will forget events, names of people and pets, what room she’s in. This is scary, mostly for her, but anytime the memory goes it’s also scary for me. Today, she couldn’t remember the name of our dog, Barnabas. We made a sign for her to remember.

A path that Really Isn’t

by Mauricio Quintana, 昆游龍, a.k.a. cintain

Today’s guest post is by Mauricio Quintana. Mauricio works as a practitioner of various alternative medicine techniques, but considers himself above all an explorer and student of life and the human condition. He goes by the name Cintain on various online and offline social networks, and likes to travel almost a bit too much. He can be found by following the trail of endless rant on twitter, baited with single-malt scotch or the smile of a pretty woman, and persuaded to sing with nary an enticement. His blog can be found at thewanderingdragon.net.

I. Amongst the Host of the Pretenders

Photo courtesy of Mauricio Quintana

The hardest part about doing the kind of work I do is keeping it real. There is literally a horde of people out there who claim to see energy, work with subtler aspects, and be in contact with a host of incorporeal entities. It is annoying. Moreover, it is pretentious. The thing that used to really drive me up the wall is the fact that, if you're into this sort of thing, there really isn't anything that you can say to refute them. After all, subtle perceptions are what they are, right? If you can't hear what the spirits are saying to me, surely you can't hear them at all, and then you're the poser, the liar, and the quack.

Effectiveness is another one of those "objective" measurements that become tenuous with these people. There are so many "levels", that maybe your healing has already happened and you're just too dumb to notice, too "out of touch" for it to work on you. I am continuously amazed at the followers of some of the more charismatic healers out there. It isn't so much that they're getting "better" as that they are becoming more capable of aligning themselves with the vision and speech of their leader.

Photo courtesy of Mauricio Quintana

The trappings of this work are so alluring, too. Sometimes it seems that the more feathers, bones, medallions, wristbands, and stridently-coloured dress on a person, the more powerful and effective their mojo. The styles vary with lineage, teacher, and tradition, but "badges" are more important with some of these clowns than with the military.

Full-contact Religion

We mill about the peristyle (our temple) waiting for the ceremony. Some of us catch up on the past week, or the past weeks, since we’ve last seen each other.

At no time in particular, the ceremony begins. Assons are rattled, the sound of bells fill the air. The drummers take up their sticks and pound out a rhythm. The singing begins. I struggle to find the song.

At this point the Lwa (the spirits) have not come. The songs are sung the best we can. The ceremony begins like so many have begun before. We reach out.

In me, I feel their absence. My song is not its best. It feels dry, but I carry on, responding to the call of the verses. People are slowly starting to move, but even my movements feel dry.

We move to the rhythms.

The Feel of the Beach

The waves crash upon the shore in a constant rhythm, sounding like the thunder of a storm close to home. In it I feel the thrust and recourse of the waves as they push me toward and away from the shore.

Afterward, that pulse continues living within my body. I feel the rolling of the waves pushing and pulling in the air around me. With the waves coming in, there is a stillness of the mind. The undertow brings forth a stream of ideas, quickly flowing out to sea, you try to grab onto them before they flow away under the waters lost forever making way for a new wave of stillness arriving in it’s wake. In this, many thoughts and images come from my own depths, only to be lost a moment later in the flow of energy.

The night here has a different quality. Back home, in the dark, I see black splotched with bits of red and blue. Here the nighttime has a mist of white everywhere like a shroud fogging the air. That same whiteness permeates the daylight making you feel like the veils are different colored dupattas, the red, blue and black at home and here one of white. The air teasing you with floating and tugging sensations.

The Ascetic, the Therapist, the Priest and the Possessed

What these people have in common is they’re all healers in a way. I’ve promised to write about the energy work I do, and I’ve been hesitating on either writing about it, or in some cases doing it. Part of my dilemma is I want to take it slow, the other is I’m still trying to make sense out of it. How does one write about such an important and huge topic and still sound genuine, when one doesn’t fully comprehend it oneself?

I’ve been truly blessed in my recent years to make the acquaintance of people who practice the healing arts. Genuine people. They hesitate to call themselves healers directly and I’m beginning to understand why. I agree with their choices for doing so. Their choice in some ways is my own. Why? In some respect, the practices I’ve been doing aren’t solely my own. In other ways, it takes two: a cooperative experience. It’s not something I do to someone, but rather something I do with someone. It’s also highly individualistic, what I do for one person would not work for another, but rather there would be a process of discovery to determine what the correct course of action would be.

The End of the Chase

Right now I am entering couche. I am partaking in the end of one journey and the start of a new one. When I emerge on Sunday, I will be an Oungan Asogwe. The asson will come home.

There are many posts in this blog marking the points along the way. I hope some of you learned a little more about me . I started this blog with the intention of people getting to know who I am. I rechristened it when I started the process of becoming a Vodou priest, an Oungan. Along this path, I marked Sur Pwenn, the first stage of priesthood where I was on point, the beginning of that road. This one marks the entering of initiation to Asogwe.

When I emerge on Sunday, I will be a different man. I will also be the same man. Initiation changes you, but it doesn’t invalidate you. You are still you, just more.

The Beginning of The End

This post comes with a soundtrack. (@Rogue_Priest I know you did this once, but I’ve been meaning to blog about this songs meaning since before I met you.)

Italicized lyrics below by: Greg Dulli

Have you ever come across a song that you can’t get out of your head, a song that you might hit the back button at the end, more than once? Or perhaps you hit that single song repeat? The Twilight Singers have been a band I’ve been in love with for years, ever since Twilight came out (not anything to do with the books or movie, long predating it.)

Saum and I were discussing the other night on how we relate to people by the music we listen to. I can’t figure out a person by their job or their politics even. I get a sense, but not a good one and sometime not even the right one. But music, that’s how people are revealed to me. Do they like happy upbeat, or something with a bit of an edge to it. Does it sound like a party or something sexy? It is smooth and even, or is it temperamental and hard to judge? I love music. It defines me.

Floating to the Surface

When I initiated into Vodou this year, I tried to prepare myself by tackling my issues. I’ve wrote about many of them earlier this year: fear, anger, trust – I tried to face my demons. Little did I know that this was the beginning of the road.

Since initiation, I’ve had many more of my issues come to light. On one hand, I feel the spirits are trying to ready me to be a better Oungan. I am seeing more and more of my deep rooted problems float to the surface.

Facing Addiction

The most difficult are the things I’m addicted to. I’m having to look back onto my life to this point and see how things have brought me to where I’m standing. Currently this is dealing was childhood pains and fears – and my addiction to the drink.

Guru Purnima

Sadly, this is one of the longest running ideas in my blog drafts folders. It’s sat there through two Guru Purnima holidays. At one time there was even a few paragraphs written.

My intention was to write about the beautiful spiritual traditions of the Himalayas and pay homage to my guru. I spent a beautiful Guru Purnima with the family this year at the Meditation Center in Minneapolis, complete with puja and all. This year once again I found this post staring at me from my drafts folder. I just couldn’t seem to write it. This month of August found me with two other failed posts, half or mostly written that just weren’t going where I wanted them to. I have something that needs saying that has been pushing all other creative juices aside.

Oungan François

On May 9th, I became an Oungan Sur Pwenn, a priest of Vodou. I serve the spirits. I chose the name François of the Crow; François after my grandfather Francis. I live on the Crow River. The Crow feeds into the Mississippi, which in turn flows down to New Orleans (NOLA), a sacred city to me.

Sur Pwenn means on the point; I’m at the beginning. While I can’t speak much of the actual process of initiation, it would nevertheless be meaningless. I’ll try to explain what I mean.

Now I Get It

After returning home I had a laugh to myself. I had a thought, “Now I get it,” thinking back on my initiation, when I remembered hearing pretty much the same thing said by others before.

Anger

Understanding And Managing My Anger

I have an intimate relationship with my anger. I’ve been angry for a long time. There are times my anger gets away from me, gets the best of me. It usually starts, and ends, with shame.

Anger is one of our many emotions. It’s trying to tell us something. Unchecked and without the proper tools – it is a very destructive force. At its worst, it can lead to violence. At its best is can be empowering.

Anger is a protective emotion. It’s our primal fight or flight that has led the human race to survive and exist. When anger is coming on – that fight or flight part of the brain takes over – reasoning shuts down. We say stupid things, do stupid things, which we would normally not say or do. We are hurtful to avoid being hurt. That may be fine when facing a predator that wants to eat you, not so fine when it’s family or friends.

Listening to the Spirits

What does it sound like to listen to spirits? Are you hearing voices in your head? Well for me the answer is no.

If I try and concentrate on it, or more specifically intellectualize it, it blurs from me. It slips away. If I put my ego and desires aside and just listen, then it comes. It’s new to me of course and I’m new to it. I’m learning to let it happen.

If there is a grosse possession, a full possession by spirit, I feel this is a petit possession, a small and limited one. It’s one I’m learning to live with.