Nay_ho_tze's Medicine Musings

i happened into the word psychopomp searching for a term to use
outside my own native understanding of the process,

which i'd learned about as 'escorting the dead'

or so i thought, and i had to message her my opinion … 

to which she replied with such a great love, that he was an old friend, 
and not to worry,
that they would (essentially) kiss and make up …

and then, amused with herself, 

she confessed that she generally pissed him off once a month, 

at least -

i loved her instantly -

There was an inexplicable connection i felt with both of them 

Though the winds of life had scattered the three of us
(only to 'meet' on Facebook),
we had each taken our first breaths in the Northeast

i didn’t have to say more –  she knew well enough what i meant –

that sometimes in life, or in death, a person needs a stranger -

because sorrow has a way of emptying the reserves
 of mourners who are usually too emotionally unavailable --

and that's when we who walk this path are more than happy to assist,

and i wanted to let her know all that...

In the last photo she posted, i 'saw' a nearly empty hourglass …

i was saddened and comforted myself by meditating on my offer to her ...  

and typically in the face of re-triggered PTSD, i retreat inside myself -

online participation was painful so that even just FBs

 newsfeed
delivered too much collective sorrow for triggered PTSD to handle - 

Then that last weekend, i sensed her time was close, that perhaps she'd even crossed unescorted but PTSD still couldn't check FB -- 

i took to the couch easily entering the Dreamtime …

not sleeping, mind you –
some call it a ‘shaman trance’ which  doesn’t feel like a trance at all 

because i am peripherally aware of ordinary reality (OR) 

at the same time that i am participating in the Dreamtime - 

i remained thusly an hour or so before returning to OR.
i didn’t bring any Dreamtime memories, not unusual in and of itself  – 

some Dreamtime work must ‘steep’ completely in its own dimension  

before memory can manifest in ordinary reality … 

later that, it happened again, that call to the Dreamtime -

vaguely, (because i still didn't recognize it as a 'call')

 i wondered if i might be fighting an early autumn cold or something?

again, no Dreamtime memories ... 

But Sunday morning i was abruptly awakened by the memory itself - 
 i ‘knew’ my friend had crossed because i had been with her –

until the collective sorrow broke over my intellect and pierced my heart,
but my perception remained on what my heart knew as true -

 my heart jumped for joy like it does every time this path gives witness

to the truth in Chief Seattle’s words,
“there is no Death, only a change of worlds”

his words have been relegated to the status of a neat little metaphor,
to sell greeting cards and refrigerator magnets,
to be enjoyed then dismissed and forgotten -

few allow themselves to comprehend that 

Chief Seattle speaks of real worlds ...

i  know - i have been there

we all have