I journey to the lower world to ask a specific question to the animals I will meet: is the professional path I envision today the right one for me?
I go down very easily and find myself instantly submerged by water. I feel like I’m in an aquarium and I see a dolphin smiling at me. I immediately asked him if he is one of the animals that I was intended for me on this journey. He utters a cry and I feel his invitation to follow him. While I am not particularly in affinity with the water element, I evolve without fear alongside this animal. I guess in the distance the silhouette of a whale while a huge octopus appears on my right. I do not feel reassured by the presence of the octopus, and as I try to ask my question to the whale, she disappears at the same time as the dolphin. Alone with the octopus, I am resigned to asking him my question. Nothing happens and I wait.
I suddenly see and feel my crown chakra opening and then a white luminous tube starts from the top of my skull, crosses the water and rises straight to the sky. I feel an upward suction movement and observe a white, lumpy substance coming out of my head and heading for the sky. I feel like these are pieces of brains, and I’m a little disgusted with that. When everything seems emptied, the upward aspiration ceases and the movement is reversed. I now receive a clean and pure white light from the sky. This light descends into me and fills all the space of my physical body, even into my feet. Then the connection between the sky and my body stops while my body is now surrounded by a white cylinder that solidifies more and more. I feel like a neon light, like I’m frozen in glass, or rather ice. I shudder.
I had not paid any more attention to the octopus, but he is still present and now he very delicately encloses with his tentacles the white cylinder that I became. He’s dragging me to the depths. It’s getting darker and darker around me and I can’t even distinguish the animal that holds me with a mixture of firmness and softness. In this dark immensity, all I see is the white light that I have become. I feel an immense sadness that grows as I descend, which seems to have no end.
I vaguely hear the reminder of the drum, and the cylinder breaks and bursts of ice in all directions. The octopus and I magically find ourselves in clearer water, his tentacles open he releases me. I lay one hand gently on his head and thank him and I then come back.
I journey to the lower world to meet my very first animal.
I’m having a little trouble getting down. I do several tests, but I always let myself be disturbed by external noises: the fire crackling, the breaths of others who fall asleep, the movements of their bodies. The changes in the tones of the drum sound also bothered me. Then, rather than letting myself be invaded by a possible disappointment, I mentally return to a place I have known for years and which serves as a refuge.
Once in this known and thus reassuring place composed of two dark tunnels, I go to the one I do not usually take. I walk for a long time in total darkness guided by a thin point of light that I guess at the end. The point widens and when I get to the exit of the tunnel, I observe railway tracks fixed on the ground. I go out, turn around and see the stone-adorned entrance of a large railway tunnel.
I wear a canvas bob on my head, a light t-shirt and shorts, strong hiking shoes and I carry a backpack. It’s very hot and bright. I don’t know where I am. Tall, dried-up weeds cover the slopes on either side of the track, which seems to be abandoned. I walk on the tracks, meet no animals, but hear the sound of insects in the grass. I don’t know if they’re crickets or grasshoppers. Tired, I end up sitting on a white and red bollard at the edge of the track and I wait for something to happen.
The drum rings and I come back.
I journey through the snail shell to explore my physical body with the intention of getting to know it better.
As I enter the shell, a word appears: CIRCUMVOLUTION. I quickly turn away from the main track and take a secondary one. I feel that my face is changing: my eyes are stretching towards the sides of my skull while horns seem to grow on the top of my head and my forehead is projected forward. I saw the beginning of a metamorphosis and the image of a bull imposed itself on me.
I am now back on the main track, in the snail shell, and I discover another Me lurking in the back of the passage. This other Me is folded on the ground, in fetal position and I feel it is scared, frightened. This woman has an ethereal, ghostly appearance. I go to her in order to appease her, but once I reach her, I find only one skeleton, my skeleton.
I continue my way and cross a long tunnel whit a all white exit. The tunnel is narrower and narrower and I dive in head first, then I turn into an arrow point and land on the white surface I saw earlier. It’s fluffy and reminds me of the consistency of a marshmallow or a mushroom. I bend over and discover that I am actually sitting on the head of a Paris mushroom. All around me, many other mushrooms, as in cultivation. I also observe that I am in a dark, circular cave and when I raise my head and look up, I see that there are stone arcades under which a yellowish light shines. I’m in the centre of the cave, down below, and I’m watching movements under the arcades. People are walking there.
My breathing is speeding up, my left arm and my eyes are moving as I find myself thrown under the arcades among these people who walk without stopping. All of these people are wearing brown gowns. Their faces are bent down and covered by a wide hood. I deduce that they are Franciscan monks. I want to see their faces, but ignoring what I will find under the hood, I feel a certain apprehension. I end up making up my mind and rushing in front of one of them and then I stop, firmly encased on my legs. The man also stops, facing me, raises his head and looks at me with indifference. His hood fell backwards and I can clearly see his face. He is about 50 years old, his hair and short beard are pepper and salt. I do not know why I still feel the same apprehension, his face is nothing scary and as I make this thought, he puts on his hood, skirts me and continues his circular walk under the arcades.
I sit on a wooden bench, set along the stone wall, and I look around. Under the arcades, openings closed by thick wrought iron railings lead to other arcades, to infinity. I turn my attention to the monks who wander in silence and I observe that they are more and more numerous. They’re all the same and make me think of clones. I feel tense, impatient, an animal growl rises from my throat and then comes anger and aggression. I set out among these men who paid no attention to me and camped against them to try again to stop one. I then discover with amazement that they pass through me as would ghosts encountering any obstacle. Emotions and feelings mingle in me: fear, rage, hatred, aggressiveness. Unpleasant feeling, but now the drum sounds the reminder.
I come back.
I go to the lower world to meet the spirit of a former shaman from the region where I live (this journey dates back several years).
I am in nature, the sky is bright, no wind, no noise. My feet rest on a ground strewn with clumps of grass. A shadow comes towards me. My brain sends me the thought of an Amerindian woman and the shadow disappears immediately. I then feel guided and begin to move forward. I observe that everything around me has become frozen and I head for an ice cave. I do not feel the cold and enter the cavity. Everything is clear inside and I see it as in broad daylight.
In front of me, on a wall, I guess the body of a prehistoric man, coarsely dressed in a beast skin, his face covered by a dark beard, a long stick of wood in his right hand. He is frozen, as if caught in the ice. Intrigued, I approach and the man immediately sets in motion. I then understand that he is not frozen, but free behind the thick translucent wall that separates us. He is indeed alive. His features are not sharp, distorted by the icy diaper, but I feel anger emanating from him. I ask him if he is a former shaman and see him agitating. I feel like he’s getting mad. I ask him his name. I feel an answer, letters are written in capital letters before my eyes while I hear the word. The man moves more and more and now seems to be shouting. It seems he wants to tell me something, but I don’t hear his words.
Then I find myself with a spike in my hand and I start breaking the ice that separates us. The thick layer resists and it takes a lot of strength and perseverance for a weak hollow to begin to appear. Meanwhile, the man starts to calm down and watches me do it. I’m exhausted and crying with rage, because I can’t break the thickness of the wall and then, suddenly, a tiny hole appears, a hole that runs through all the ice. On his side, the man crouches down and places his mouth in front of the orifice. I imitate him, crouch down, place my mouth on my side of the hole and close my eyes. The shaman pronounces his name and I feel his breath on my face.
When I open my eyelids, I see him straighten up and away. I get up and start to leave the cavity. Everywhere around me floats the image of the shaman, on the walls, the ceiling, behind the ice wall of the cave. When I am out again, I feel his presence behind me as if he were floating slightly above my shoulders, without touching me. I laugh and talk to him, he listens to me and remains silent.
I thank and come back.
When I’m in a relationship, why am I so afraid of losing, of losing myself, but also of losing the other? I go to the lower world to meet the spirit of an animal without knowing which one will be able to answer my questions.
I go down to a dark place where I often go. It is an underground cave in which I systematically find a Spirit who watches over me. As I face this Spirit, I vaguely perceive a movement on my right. When I turn to it, an animal moves in my direction. Halfway between a fox and a dog, I seem to recognize a coyote. As soon as this thought passes through my mind, I find myself thrown into a desert. I see cañons far away from my position, a few rare dried-up tall grasses plow under the wind which raises the dust. It’s hot, very hot, and it’s impossible to get in the shade.
The coyote is sitting in front of me and looking at me insistently. He’s waiting for something. From the corner of my eye, I think I see a piece of meat in my right hand. I approach my face and observe that it is my hand that is bloody, the flesh is raw. I feel no pain and extend it to the animal. It doesn't take it and continues to scrutinize me. My left hand is now in the same state as the right, and when I look at my body, I see that it is leaving in tatters. There is a lot of blood, but it doesn't spread on the ground. No feeling. No pain or fear. My fingers grab my tongue, break most of it, and give it to the coyote, which takes it delicately between its teeth and then runs away. Surprised, I don't make any movement. The temperature of the air is burning, the sun hits hard, the dust still flies. My body dries up and gradually becomes a mummy lying on the ground. The shape of my body suggests that the agony was long and painful and I still feel nothing.
I jump when I feel a presence close to me. I open my eyes. I am well in my room. I closed them, determined to continue my journey, but the sensation of the presence made me reopen them. I then see a vague, clear form, as if it were a cloud. I sniff and smell no smoke. The shape becomes clearer and I see very clearly an elderly man. In my room, at the foot of my bed. The man has red skin, baked by the sun, his black hair streaked with gray are cut squared and a blue band encircles his forehead. He smiles at me and I'm immediately thrown with him into the desert.
I then watch him pick up my mummified body. He binds it in a sitting fetal position and then takes it away. I follow and we join other people, a tribe waiting for us. I attend a ceremony around this body and then it is placed in a niche dug in the rock, in height. The mummy's face is turned towards the sky and it is at this moment that the coyote returns, the piece of my tongue still intact between its teeth. He places it at the foot of the old Indian who picks it up and places it between the mummy's lips. It is strange to see this racorni body with this bright red tongue that makes like a spot on its face.
I wait, but nothing happens. I thank and come back.
I go to the lower world to meet the Salmon spirit: what message does it teach me today?
I feel a return to the source, to the origin, and I see a newborn. It has a dry, racornie appearance, and its skin is all dark, as if burned by the sun. This vision engenders sadness in me and I feel some tears rising in my eyes. I then see the infant swell and open its eyes. The dark, racornie skin bursts out as if it had only been an armour and had now become useless. The baby’s belly still swells at the same time as the child is lying on my own belly until it blends in. I feel that I am pregnant. Feeling another presence, I look up and see another Me standing, looking at me. The drum is accelerating.
The other Me holds one of its hands in my direction. This hand is blue. I extend my own hand to the one that is presented to me, they come closer to each other until they touch each other. I hear myself saying: "You so really exist!" I weep profusely and the drum is extremely fast, I command absolutely nothing and because nothing is under my control, I feel calm and peace in me.
The other Me envelops my body with a blue energy, like its hand. I am aware that the Self exists, that I exist, that the inner child exists, that I am/we are a multidimensional being.
I thank and come back.