I had this strange experience recently. I felt fortunate to be out of the hospital and thought that I might reach out to this woman who lived near by who was rumored to be a Shaman.
I had just spent two years in the clumsy care of an oncologist, and I thought, I am so lucky right now to be home and free of these cures that are worse than the disease, that I might as well see what this person could offer me.
The most interesting thing about the strange journey that ensued was that this person was not shy about the whole idea that we have angels and demons in our lives. Quite the contrary.
In their infinite wisdom the doctors in the hospital already had me on steroids so I was drugged enough to be putty in this Shaman's hands. I was right there. Right on board.
Right away, with the help of a full moon shining in my window, I was having crazy dreams and talking to spirits in the middle of the night. All this stuff came poring out of me.
The Shaman had me essentially catalog who were my demons and who were my guardian angels. It was pretty fascinating. I made a long list of the dead friends and relatives in my life who would be looking after me. I couldn't stop. My mother's brother, Donald, who died in the pacific immediately following the war. My older sister Patsy who was murdered in New York when I was in my late teens. My great friend Robert Boykin who was lost to AIDS in the late 80's. Handel Evans, a boyfriend of my mother's who left me his box of paints. Nino Franchina, the wonderful Italian sculptor who looked out for me as a boy in Rome. The list went on and on.
The demon list is more complicated. That requires thinking badly of someone. Again, the Shaman Lady was not shy. She was very confident that there are people in this world that want to hurt us, block us, harm us, destroy us. This is when people start rolling their eyes. We are children of the modern age. There are no demons.
I am thankfully off the steroids. Takes a while for them to leave your system. I called a time out with the Shaman Lady because I was needed back on the planet earth. But yesterday I was visited by one of my demons. Maybe the demon. And I had to reach out to my Guardian Angels. Fast.
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT IS NOT BUTTERFLY, 2017, oil on board, 8 x 10 inches
How do I properly credit a certain comedian for this essay with some humility. Except maybe to say that I also needs the eggs.