For several weeks, I’ve been going to The Aesclepion Healing Center in San Rafael for a ‘healing hands’ class. Before getting to the chipmunks, though, let me point out that Aesclepius, the Greek god of medicine and healing, was the son of Apollo. And it was Apollo that the Oracles at Delphi channeled in their trances. Yet another Greek connection!

In the first healing hands class, we were introduced to the basic principals of meditation. I’ve been avoiding meditation all my life. It’s not that I hadn’t tried, but every time I  sat down and attempted to relax and empty my mind, my body rebelled and I’d be up and moving within five minutes. So I was interested to see if I was ready to quiet my mind and find a way to access a higher state of consciousness.

We learned to set grounding cords to anchor us to the earth, to make our thoughts vanish by putting them in a rose and blowing it up, and to bring in the energy of the sun by imagining golden light coming in through our crown chakras. So far so good. If given a task of imagining something, I could keep my thoughts at bay. Maybe I could do this after all.

Before each class, the students at the Center gather to give and to receive healings and energy checks. After three classes, I had my energy checked by a perky blonde who looks like Julia Duffy in the ’80’s series ‘Newhart’. First she saw the color green around me. Every time I have a reading, I’m surrounded by green and I have yet to find out what this means. Then she said that she saw cow pies on top of my head (I don’t know what this means either), and a bunch of chipmunks scurrying around inside my head. According to ‘Julia’, the chipmunks are uninvited spirit guides, and they’re not happy because I’m not paying as much attention to them as I did in the past.

And she saw my father who’s been dead for over 20 years. He, too, was trying to get my attention, waving his arms saying, “I can help. Let me help.” At the time I understood this to mean that he wanted to help me with my healing hands class. Later I realized that his intention was to inform me that I could call upon him to help heal from the trauma of our past lives together.

So, I have a lot of work to do. I need to get the chipmunks under control, and I have to find a way to forgive my father. I would guess that those past lifetimes with him are the very reason I’ve been avoiding meditation in the first place.

Let me start by telling you about the Blessing Moon. In Scott Blum’s book, Waiting for Autumn, a homeless man named Richard introduces him to a ritual that involves breathing in the energy of the moon. Our agrarian ancestors called the full moon in July the Blessing Moon because it’s the time of year when the earth begins to yield her bounty. According to Blum’s homeless friend, the Blessing Moon is the perfect time to begin a spiritual journey.

And so it was that I found this story on the very day of the full moon in July. I was entranced with the idea of breathing in the moon and I wanted to experience this ritual myself, perhaps because my own ancestors farmed land in Minnesota and in Norway. That night when the moon began to show itself, I positioned myself on my back porch and watched as it rose slowly over the treetops. When it was in full view, I raised both hands up on either side of my head, palms open, facing the moon just as Richard described to Scott. Then I lifted my head back and squinting at the moon, I breathed in the cold, crisp air.

I wish I could tell you that I experienced instant enlightenment, but of course, it doesn’t happen that way for most of us. I did feel slightly invigorated, though, and I vowed to revisit this practice each month. Since then, I’ve begun a meditation practice, I started a course in hands-on healing, I’ve begun working with my animal spirit guides, I’ve started writing down my soul, and I’ve booked a pilgrimage to Delphi. I have much to tell you about all of these things and more. And I have to tell you that at times I’m terrified! But that’s a good thing, right? As Duane Garrison Elliott, my former boss at Tiffany & Co. used to say,  ”Do what terrifies you most––everything else is boring.”

So please join me on my journey. And as we go along, I hope you’ll share your stories with me.