To Avoid Boldly Going.

I’ve been thinking again about that black, wolf-like dog which came crashing out of the darkness a couple of weeks ago just as I was drifting into sleep, seemingly intent on biting my head off. (Who wouldn’t?) And so tonight I did some reading up on shamanism and now I have a theory.

I wonder whether I became an involuntary and temporary shaman that night and wandered into territory which I’m not yet ready to enter. I gather that many of the traditional shamanic cultures around the world accept that some ordinary people have innate shamanic abilities, but don’t consciously use them because they’re not familiar with the rules, operative techniques, and methods of self-protection. If that is the case, I suppose I’d better be careful where I tread when the brain rhythms are at a critical point prior to sleep.

Or maybe I should consider another theory:

Shamanism postulates that ailments of mind and body are sometimes caused by malevolent forces – often spirit animals – in other dimensions which we might term the world of spirit, so maybe I was meeting the generator of my depressive tendency that night. (Depression is often referred to euphemistically as ‘the black dog.’) And if that’s the case, it would be helpful to know how to tame the creature and send it packing. Interesting, isn’t it?

On the other hand I could just be falling prey to fanciful notions driven by a sense of boredom and depression (November is usually my worst month for blues attacks.) The fact is that I keep on subtly inviting a couple of special people in the relatively close physical vicinity to commune with me, but neither of them is replying to my invitation cards. And I can’t go out and commune with them because it isn’t my place to go blundering uninvited into other people’s lives any more than it’s advisable to go blundering into unfamiliar spirit realms where ravenous beasts are lurking.

And did I ever mention that I do stretching exercises – among others – and have discovered that I’m an inch taller in the morning than I am late at night. Maybe that’s why the dog’s jaws didn’t quite reach my head before I pushed it away. Lucky old me.

(And maybe I should also be giving overdue consideration to a possible obvious reason why certain special people in the relatively close physical vicinity are disinclined to commune with me at the moment.)