Jump Girl

by Salicrow

  The November Incident lasted all the way into February. I call it the November Incident because it began on November 1, and because it was an isolated, all-consuming siege. I began speaking to spirits, revisiting my past lives, experiencing kundalini, channeling energy through my voice, and connecting with Chazut, all in November. I spent the rest of that period learning skills and finding a way to integrate this new me into the world I belonged to.

  That January there was an ice storm in the Northeast Kingdom that knocked the power out for days. Being without power is not that inconvenient for us; my house was built by self-reliant hippies in the late seventies and was designed to withstand minor inconveniences. It’s heated by wood and has a gas stove with a pilot and a hand pump over the well that allows us to collect water manually. We even have a backup outhouse.

  During the outage, I trekked into the tree line to go to the outhouse. It’s a small wooden structure with a large window opposite the toilet, overlooking a small clearing surrounded by raspberry bushes. A short distance away, in the middle of the clearing, is a large outcropping of white quartz approximately eight feet across.

  The milky white stone known as snow quartz or quartzite is prolific in the New England landscape, but the outcropping behind my house is unusually large and striking. I had not really noticed it much before that day, but from the outhouse window, I saw that it was truly remarkable. After leaving the outhouse I walked over to it and was amazed at the energy it was holding. Standing near it, I felt both energized and centered.

  I lingered for a few minutes, thinking about how I really wanted a piece for inside my house. Then I looked down and saw that the top layer of rock seemed to be separate, as if it were wedged into the pile instead of buried under the frozen ground.

  I took a deep breath, and my consciousness expanded in a way I now found familiar. I became more aware of the cool air on my face, more conscious of the sounds of the quiet winter woods. The white of the snow and ice glittering upon the ground was blinding. I knew that I was meant to take that top layer; the slab of white quartz was being offered to me as a gift from the land I called home.

  I bent over and pulled the milky white stone from the ground. It slid out easily from its nesting place. It was about two feet long, a foot wide, and eight inches deep. I was immediately aware of its weight; though it was a bit hefty, I could handle it. I gingerly made my way back to my house, careful of my balance, as the walk was quite slippery even without a heavy weight in my arms.

  I brought the large white stone upstairs to my healing room and set it in the sun. I knew why it had come into my life. From then on, whenever my kundalini caught me off guard, I poured my extra energy into it. I had clients place their hands on it when they were done with a healing session and needed grounding. The stone was a battery, one capable of absorbing an abundance of energy. I knew I would return it to the earth someday when it was full and ready to be replanted.

  That day has already come, and the stone now resides in my sacred circle in the front yard. It marks the entrance, where a powerful ley line intersects the circle. The ley line also runs under the stone outcropping from which the rock came.

  49

  Possessed

  I began to work with Peter around the concept of sharing space with spirit and letting them sit in me. The first time this happened, I was sitting in a rocking chair in my Reiki room, conversing psychically with Peter. I was speaking out loud so that Noel could also hear what he had to say.

  Peter was talking about being filled with the Holy Spirit. When that happens, the person channeling the spirit is usually pushed to the right of their body. To the eye of a medium, this would look as if the person’s energetic double was extending four to six inches outside the body and to the right. He went on to explain that lower-vibration energy, like that of another human spirit, shifts the medium’s energetic body four to six inches beyond the left side of the body.

  As I sat pondering this information, it happened. I felt a sudden pressure, and Peter suddenly filled my consciousness. My head grew light with a slight feeling of vertigo. I clearly felt that I had been pushed to the outside of my body. I was still connected to it, but I could feel the presence of another inside my personal space. It reminded me of being in an elevator with too many people and trying desperately not to be touched.

  Despite a slight sense of panic, I still felt confident I was holding it together. I asked Peter, “How could you do that? I did not ask you into my body.”

  He replied, You have already shown compete trust in me and have asked me many times to join you. I looked and found no resistance.

  This alarmed me. “How do I make you leave?” I asked with urgency.

  You can’t! he replied, his voice stern and unshakable.

  I felt heat shoot up from my root chakra and the familiar sensation of electricity coursing through my body, reminding me that the serpent of my spine was awake and kundalini was surging through me. My mind became sharp and precise, a feeling like the one I had when I pushed the guy across the room by placing my hand on him.

  That feeling, that sensation of clarity showed me that my will was harnessed. I collected energy in the back of my throat chakra and pushed Peter out of my body with my voice.

  I was keenly aware of every action I performed, every sensation I experienced. I was precise and detail oriented; time was languid and dreamy. In the waking world, only a split second had passed. It was almost instantaneous. Peter told me I couldn’t push him out of my body, yet I did.

  As a teenager, I had needed to bend time to avoid getting raped. I had needed to bend reality at the Red Party to help that young woman. And I needed to bend reality in my healing room to kick out a spirit who had taken up residency in my body.

  Peter congratulated me, then promptly apologized, saying it was I who had insisted on being taught by example. I had planned the teaching I would need while I was still in spirit and insisted that the spirits of my team test me. I knew he was telling the truth and held no anger toward him. He explained that I needed to always have a guard in place inside my personal space and my body. I should ask spirits to sit in me only when I trusted them. I must always ask them to leave when I was ready.

  I was starting to believe many of the things Peter told me about my future. As the only psychic among the spirits I worked with, he was the one who shared with me what was to come. He said I would pass messages to the living from the dead, helping families find closure and healing. I would meet with people in private homes and in auditoriums. I would bring the sacred back into death, reminding people of the importance of acknowledging and working with our ancestors. I would clean haunted houses and teach people to see the dead for themselves. I was being trained for all this because I had work to do.

  He thought it would be good practice for me to let my teacher, the spirit who was instructing me at the time, sit inside me. This seemed reasonable; I trusted all of them, and I was feeling pretty good about my ability. After all, I had kicked Peter out of my body instinctually. When I first started working with spirits in this way, I was quite nervous and made sure I went over the rules of engagement clearly, especially regarding when to leave. Over time, I became comfortable with spirits sitting in me. It was convenient, having their souls inside my body. It made it easier to assimilate lessons, as if what they knew belonged to me as well.

  However, I got sloppy. I stopped reminding them of the rules of engagement and asking them to leave, assuming they knew the way out. I thought they were exiting on their own accord, but in reality, they were simply stepping out of sight into the recesses of my mind. That’s how I came to know what it feels like to be possessed and not to know how to get sole ownership of my being back. I have looked into the mirror and not recognized the eyes staring back at me as my own. They were mine in shape, mine in color, but the light reflecting back and the essence of myself wasn’t there. My energy was eclipsed by the populace of spirits inhabiting me.

  Standing i
n front of the mirror, trying not to hyperventilate, I watched as my eyes flipped from side to side by someone else’s doing. It was creepy not to have control over the movement of my eyes as the intensity of stare changed, with one spirit after another stepping to the front of my being, taking charge, holding space in my body and showing themselves through my eyes. Each spirit that stepped forward in my consciousness implicitly challenged my capacity to regain control.

  I paced from the bathroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the bedroom, moving from mirror to mirror. Each mirror showed them still in my eyes. I could feel them pushing me to the side of my body, making me claustrophobic. I needed to get them out but suddenly didn’t know how. I couldn’t seem to muster the strength to push them out, as I had done with Peter. Maybe there were too many of them. I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t figure out how this could have happened. I knew these spirits! I considered them friends! I thought I could trust them. How could they do this to me? What had I done wrong?

  As these thoughts raced through my head, I continued to pace back and forth from room to room. There were so many voices in my head. They said I had no control, I would never get it back, five were too many for me to withstand. Fear was winning.

  My voice, the voice of my own wisdom, the voice of my higher self, knew that this was not the first time this had happened to me. It was not the first time I had been possessed. I had experienced this battle for my being before in another place, another time. Had I lost before? Had I won? Would I lose this time?

  When my husband got home from work I was frantic, one step from hysteria. He looked at me and could see I was not alone in my body. The expression on his face confirmed that I had crossed the line. I was indeed possessed. Was I going to become one of those people they make television movies about, unable to function in normal society? What would happen to my children?

  Thankfully my husband is an anchor and had witnessed many otherworldly experiences by this time. He was fearful himself, but he refused to let me drift in the vast sea alone. He helped me find my center and held me as I cried and jumped from perspective to perspective to perspective.

  I had held spirit inside me before, of course, but never more than one and never without first giving my permission. I had never before lost control of my own being. The calm Noel conveyed allowed me to assert a shred of control. I held onto that control by the finest of threads, but it was enough of a reprieve, like briefly coming up for air while drowning. I was able to fill my lungs before slipping back beneath the surface.

  I continued to pace and shake. I tried to meditate but couldn’t. There were too many thoughts in my mind, and they were not all mine. The battle was real, and I was unsure how it would end.

  All who walk between the veil of life and death must face their own “little death,” a battle in which one’s soul and mind get torn apart and put back together again. Shamans, witches, priestesses, and psychics must all encounter what they fear the most—and then some. I knew this! I knew there was a risk. I knew that to follow the path of spirit would test me in inconceivable ways. I also knew that not all who walk such paths make it out sane. I had jumped in feet first without a moment’s hesitation.

  I went upstairs and tried to do yoga. I cried and I wailed, and then Adam stepped forward in my mind, his voice loud and clear above the din: Sali, call Lawton. Listen to me: if I wanted to hurt you, would I tell you to call someone who could help you? I knew Adam both in life and in death, and even though he was one of the five spirits possessing me, I still trusted him.

  That moment, those words, something about him saying this to me, poked my psychic mind. I recognized that this was another test. Of course I was being tested. I trusted all five of the spirits possessing me.

  I walked over to the large white quartz, placed my hands on it, and reached out for grounding, sending all of my wild, electric energy into the stone. I connected with the strength of the stone and released my feelings of powerlessness into its milky whiteness.

  Lawton was my Reiki Master; he was older, wiser, had been around longer in this lifetime than I had. He was smart as hell. If he didn’t know what was going on, he could help me figure it out. In that moment I found my peace and strength of my will. I was able to quiet my mind as Adam explained to me how fear was the enemy of the spirit worker. It was my fear alone that let them hold control over me.

  I quietly and powerfully pushed each of the spirits inhabiting my body—OUT!

  Like a light shining deep within my body, I imagined my soul growing and expanding, becoming more intense. Breathing deeply, I allowed my light and spiritual freedom to fill every nook and cranny of my body. There was no room in this vessel for anyone but me. As when I pushed Peter out, I used my voice, filling my throat chakra with energy and then releasing its power through the vibration of sound.

  In that moment I remembered the words of Grammy Brown from childhood: “Sali, it’s your body, which means you have more power than any spirit.” So simple to understand, yet so hard to remember when sitting in fear. Fear is indeed the soul eater.

  When my body was mine again, all five spirits safely outside, Adam spoke again. He confirmed that this too had been a test, that it was important to remember that the spirits who had tested me were my friends and had not meant to harm me. They had put up a good fight, holding onto space in my mind so I would be forced to find my inner strength.

  He reminded me that this lesson, like others I had experienced, were things I had agreed to before being born, things I had planned. I had agreed to the trials and challenges necessary for developing skills as a psychic medium. The spirits I now considered my team knew how best to open me.

  I knew Adam’s words were true. I had agreed to the whole deal. The events I experienced during the November Incident were not a coincidence or a random occurrence. They were plans I had laid before ever being born.

  50

  House Call

  After talking to Adam and cleaning house in my mind, I felt a lot saner but still vulnerable. I wanted confirmation that I didn’t have stray spirits tucked away somewhere in my energetic body, so I called Lawton. It had only been a little over a month since I had last called upon him to remove a thought-form attachment, and I’m sure he heard that I got myself into some new trouble, meandering the shamanic realm and coming upon a misadventure with spirit.

  When Lawton showed up at my door, the ground was covered in about a foot of snow, and the landscape was a solid white that glistened in the morning sun. I had spent time to make myself presentable, but I knew I looked wild. My eyes carried a paranoid strain, and I had lost quite a bit of weight in a short period of time, giving me a hungry look.

  As I opened the door, I could see in Lawton’s eyes that he recognized the truth of my situation. I gave it to him straight when I said, “I need you to tell me that I’m not crazy.”

  I made us civilized tea, and we went into the sunroom with Noel, taking seats near the heater. We sat silently for a moment, sipping our tea. Noel and Lawton stared at me, waiting for me to speak first.

  My story flowed out of me—all the peculiar details. As I narrated, Lawton filled the pauses with explanations. My shoulders felt as if they were letting go of a fifty-pound weight. My breathing became more steady and I felt my spirit relaxing into my body as Lawton assured me that I was indeed alone in there. All of my spirits were close, I could feel them, but I felt them as separate. They gave me their insight from time to time as Lawton spoke, and his advice and descriptions gave merit to theirs.

  Lawton had answered my biggest question: “You’re not crazy!”

  51

  Turn down the Volume

  I have now come to understand that what I experienced was a spirit-taught shamanic death, to help me take my place as a bridge between the worlds of the living and the dead. When most people think of shamanism, they imagine spending years in the rain forest imbibing hallucinogenic plants or taking workshops led by a shaman who guid
es people through their transformation with the sound of his drum. There is a third way of opening, the way of spirit—my way.

  I am not a Blackfoot shaman. I am part Blackfoot, and I am a shaman. I was taught by my great-grandmother, a wyrd woman in a lineage that had Blackfoot origins, but I was not taught traditionally by the Blackfoot people, nor have I spent time on a reservation. I know I have lived lifetimes as different kinds of shamans, but for this lifetime, I prefer to see myself as a psychic medium. The difference is more semantic than functional, one of personal orientation. I remember the life of a shaman as isolated and separate from the tribe, something a “normal person” doesn’t want. I want to be part of the world around me, to help people while being a part of their whole. This is a different era and incarnation for me. I no longer want to be a satellite stuck in orbit, attached but separate.

  By calling myself a psychic medium, I am simply stating the facts. I am psychic, and I am a medium. I perceive things in time and space that others cannot, and I communicate with the world of spirit. These are simply skills, tools that expand the potential of my life. They are the not the soul—or sole—description of my being.

  With all of the changes I was experiencing personally, life was still passing in the waking world. Our family had made plans to go to Florida for a few weeks to visit my in-laws in their winter home. The kids were chomping at the bit to wear flip-flops and jump into swimming pools. We were looking forward to the sun; winter grows long in the Northeast Kingdom. I began pleading with my spirits, telling them I needed a break of a few days without past-life adventures, kundalini openings, and chattering in my head. They always answered the same way: You’ll get used to it, Sali. Remember, you were the one who wanted this.