Given the natural penchant 
of shamans and medicine folk 
to typically observe a solitary lifestyle,
myself included, 
I don’t know if this thread’ll launch or not,
but let’s give it a try...

When did you realize that you were ...
well, y’know ...
different?

Did it happen because of something someone else said?
Maybe up until that time, 
you had no clue that you were 'different'?
 
Or maybe it was a trait you admired in someone else 
and consciously decided to develop 
within yourself ...

Maybe you took the intense route
and faced Death in some capacity,
which set you on your path.

Or maybe you started in a manner of your own...

What was your ‘a-ha’ moment?

Anyone?

=]

Let's see...
my story...
I don't actually have a singular 'a-ha' moment -
it's more like years of 'huh?' (read: WTF) moments
that took awhile to string all together;
even still, I work on fine-tuning.

I will share two stories --
my first memory -
and my first medicine dream ...

My earliest memory (in this lifetime)
puts me at no older than six months of age ...
I am being bathed in the shallower side 
of a double, white enamel, kitchen sink... 

That I can describe the kitchen in great details
has been verified by my caretakers at the time - 
and further that we'd apparently moved
right before I turned six months ...

(I actually have an earlier memory,
but it's not so pretty, 
so I don't count it -)

I received my first medicine dream 
when I was no older than four --
I believe Kay would call it a shamanic dream -

Pa was the patriarch 
of one of the families I lived with -
even though we weren't related, Pa and I had a special bond.

One night I had a dream ...
Pa and I were walking down the road by our house 
into a warm, benignly blinding sunshine -
everything glowed,
the trees, the birds, the sky, the brook, the Earth, everthing
and I thought it was because of how much I loved him ...
we were heading toward the splashing brook 
that ran near where we lived.
It was up ahead right before the crook in the road
Further on, I knew there was a candy store,
and as I began to consider that maybe 
we were going there too,
I suddenly felt myself drawn upward
until I realized 
that I could see both Pa and myself walking, 
hand in hand down the ribbon-like road -
that somehow I'd gotten outside myself,
and yet I could see both perspectives at once.
I watched as we got to the brook,
and I saw Pa stop and stoop down to the earthbound me,
his face full of familiar kindness 
mixed with unfamiliar sadness.
He lighty touched my cheek and said,
"You can't go any further with me this time."

I didn't understand.
He stood up, turned and began to walk away.
His manner said I mustn't follow.
So I watched him disappear into the forest
as my heart quietly broke.

The next morning when I awoke,
I ran into the kitchen, asking, "Pa? Where's Pa?"
More adults than usual filled the small house.
Someone leaned down and said, "Pa's dead, dear. Sh!"

At those words I was in the Dreamtime again -
and I bolted outside, running and crying,
"I want to go with you - Pa, wait for me!"
I wanted to at least walk with him to the brook

And then I realized, 
I did walk with him to the brook!

=]

Beerlover writes: Death is NOT the end, just a transition.
Indeed ...
Chief Seattle: "There is no death - only a change of worlds."

=]