Laughing at myself

I remember coming home sad and distressed one afternoon when I was six-years-old. A peer from school had followed me half way home, teasing me about something that was important to me at the time but I can’t remember now.

After giving me milk and cookies to show that she sympathised, my mother lifted my chin, looked me square in the eyes and said, “You’ve got to learn to laugh at all aspects of life, son, even the ones that don’t seem the least funny at first. If you can do this, you’ll make it easier for others to do the same and the stresses of life will be easier to bear.”

I took these words to heart, as I did everything my parents told me, and they’ve served me well through the years, at least until recently.

Putting together a plan for a social media calendar, I came up with the idea of putting up a weekly joke. The results were not at all what I expected. In several instances the jokes were taken seriously rather than as tongue in cheek, despite that fact I put a smiling face and the laugh out loud (Lol) abbreviation at the end.

After several Fridays of this, I feel disheartened. It seems sad that, in my opinion, so many people take everything far too serious and my admittedly corny jokes only seem to rub them the wrong way.

Since my goal was to bring a little laughter to everyone’s long and often manic weeks and I’ve so obviously failed to do that, I will no longer be posting jokes. However, I’ll still share humourous experiences from my own life, where the joke is obviously on me. Perhaps in that way I can still bring an occasional smile to the face of others.

Finding a funny side to the most agonising and awkward moments of my life has often been my redemption, and I will always be thankful for my mother’s suggestion to do so.

I know there’s a level of seriousness that’s necessary to make it through. However, laughter can clear the mind so better choices can be made as well as promote happiness and longevity.

The First Challenge Of My Second Life

I don’t deny that a person’s first life is fraught with challenges and difficulties. I remember countless times of wanting to chuck it all in when I was living mine.

I remember trying to find myself, as if it were yesterday. And with the memories come the dark emotions (fury, despair, angst and hate). Yes, I can still get in touch with and stir them quite easily. That’s why I tap them sparingly. Such dark energies are not meant for everyday use but for specialised works.

However, not yet a year into my second life, somewhat adept at working with my emotions, I find myself facing an unexpected challenge.

Now I question everything.

I look upon my creation, me, and I see so many flaws. I definitely was no artisan in my first life.

As I examine every detail in preparation for what I intend to be my greatest work, I wonder whether I should scrap it all and design something completely new and unique. Or, should the few well crafted bits be grafted in. Surely my earlier works weren’t complete dross? Or, perhaps they were.

Have I gained enough experience and skills during my first life to make this second better?

I’d like to believe so but honestly, I’m not so sure.

I’m stuck on the horns of a dilemma. I will be a year old in September and I have no choice but to create. It’s the natural order. However, I currently don’t have a tangible blueprint of what I that looks like.

The only piece of knowledge I have to cling to when my fears threaten to paralyse me is that whatever I create must be of service.

Desperately Seeking Me

I was talking to my mother the other night on the phone and she said something profound that blew all my synapses and catapulted me back to the time of my formation. A safe place where nothing is for certain and everything is possible. A place where I was everything and nothing, an undefined ghost both powerful and impotent. A creature to become.

The words that wiped away all I was and made my memories and future plans chaff in the wind? “You’re 50 now, at the beginning of your second life. Make sure you don’t waste it.”

When the realisation came that I wasn’t the Paul I thought I was, I did the respectful thing. With the Santa Muerte by my side I stood in a cemetery, grieving and celebrating at the same time. I grieved for the loss of someone I intimately knew but celebrated his life because his horrifying mistakes and occasional victories have forged my will and granted me a wealth of knowledge I’ll need to go forward.

Filled to the brim with loneliness, I stand beside my death goddess and a small piskie at my final crossroad….my second life.

As I stand at the beginning of my final adventure in this world, unsure of who I am or what I’m destined to become, I feel naked and vulnerable.

Then I do the only thing I can. I adjust my trilby, invoke the spirits that have befriended me along the way and begin my new journey into the unknown, desperately seeking me and my part in the all.

Piskies, Poltergeists And Prophets

It’s Beltane 2019 and I’m finally sitting down after a morning of running about.

Originally, Lyn and I had set out to visit two of our favourite business ladies. The trips should’ve been straightforward. However, because I’m a walker of worlds, it was anything but.

You’d think after all these years of travelling the web of the Wyrd (45 to be exact), I would have grown accustomed to frequent abnormalities. I haven’t. I’m just as shocked and pie eyed with each one. Uncomfortable? Yes, but also awe inspiring. My life is never ordinary.

Before going to the first of our visits in Southampton, we dropped by a charity shop to have a quick look around. From one of the shelves, a small voice called to me. I looked up and there sat a bronze piskie figurine, complete with piskie spirit housed within.

Beside the fact he called me by name, I knew right away that he was there for me because he was identical to a piskie I’d seen in a charity shop in Cornwall 10 years ago.

I’d foolishly left that piskie sitting glumly on a similar shelf on the contingency that I’d pick him up on the way back home if I still felt he was right for me. Thirty minutes later I knew he was. I rushed back to the shop only to find someone wiser than I had taken him.

For 10 years I’ve waited, knowing that if I was meant to work with the pixies another wold appear.

When I took today’s piskie to the counter, the volunteer reported he’d gone on the shelf just this morning and asked me what he was…..some sort of clown perhaps? When I told him, he shrugged his shoulders and said he’d never heard of such a thing. To help him picture it better or perhaps jog a memory, I told him it was similar to some of the smaller Fae. To that he rolled his eyes and said, “Mind you, it’s been awhile since I’ve read about things in juvenile culture.”

How funny (I laughed on the spot) and sad at the same time. Not so long ago everyone would’ve recognised a piskie. It’s just another sign of how we’re disconnected from the spirits of our lands (one of the reasons we’re in such a terrible state).

Prior to our second visit, we stopped at another charity shop (Are you detecting a pattern?). Inside I discovered a book on poltergeists by Colin Wilson. Judging it to be an excellent reference book, I broke my ‘no more books until you’re finished clearing some more out’ policy.

Smiling, I walked into our second visit sporting an Odinic wide brimmed hat with a piskie in one hand and a poltergeist book in the other as you do. It was there I met a prophet of sorts, a chakra and aura reader to be exact. Without any provocation, he walked up to me and told me what he knew about me from observing my chakras.

I could relate to everything he said. It was almost word for word what another spirit diviner had told me several months ago.

I must not be doing exactly what I should be just yet because the source keeps sending me prophets from different walks to remind me of my strengths and weaknesses.

In sincerity, I’m touched the source is so patient with me.

All of this and I’ve yet to attend the Beltane Festival I’ve got scheduled for tonight. The effects of the thinner veils are all too clear to me.

Into The Crucible

True witchcraft, (not the dress up and only pay attention to the spirits during sabbats, esbats and when convenient type)  isn’t easy. It alters your vision so you can truly see.

Reality is both glorious and terrible and once you see it, you can never return to innocence. Sometimes it will cause you to laugh in wild abandon and ecstasy. At others, it will have you curling into a foetal position and  crying in anguish.

In addition, witchcraft forces you to step up, become responsible and constantly transform. Refuse, stagnate or backtrack and madness will take you. Not because of some imagined punishment from a tyrannical force but because from your first transformation, your mind and body can never again find peace or contentment in the status quo.

Knowing this, why would anyone step into the crucible? What could possibly be worth such expansion and risk?

There are only two things, both absolutely essential to living happily and amicably in a savaged universe. They are knowledge and power.

With these keys, you can tap into all existence and work alongside it to heal, preserve and create new beautiful realities for all (beginning with you).

It saddens me that so many people treat witchcraft like an escapist game. They’re quick to dress up and act out parts during esbats and sabbats. However, when the rituals are over, they return home and continue on with ordinary, boring lives. Naturally, their costumes and scripts will be pulled out of their closets for the next play.

Witchcraft is not an entertainment to be so lightly treated. It’s a life call that consumes every inch of you.


Now Is The Time For Action

Once I believed the more people that awakened to their gifts the better the world would become. With more workers, Eden and Nirvana could be easily achieved.

To my sadness, my journey has proven this isn’t the case. In today’s world, a greater number are awakening  than when I wore a younger man’s skin but we’ve never been so close to Ragnarok (the end of days). Why?

Because the awakening alone is not enough. The ability to do miraculous deeds is not enough. Regardless of the title you choose (Shaman, Witch, Christian, Buddhist, or all around good guy/gal) your abilities are worth nothing unless they’re being used to make the Universe an exceptional place.

If we insist on using our vast power to serve only ourselves and for living out the disconnected ideals we’ve been handed down (eat, work, amass toys and die) there is no hope.

Life is about loving all and taking decisive actions to ensure the best outcomes for the Universe and all her inhabitants.

Awaken brothers and sisters, especially those that work with spirits, it’s time to step up and not be counted with those that still sleep.

See the sacredness in your gifts and walk away from those that would see them as entertainment or attempt to cling to them for security with no intentions of improving their or anyone else’s lot.

Even now, the horn of Heimdall nears his lips. Let’s give him a reason to return it to its resting spot.



Don’t Just Adapt

When changes come, the typical response is to wail, grieve, complain and finally adapt.

This can be extremely positive or negative depending on what the changes are. Adapting can be your salvation or your soul assassin.

I was numb for a large part of my life because I accepted everything is as it is. In so doing, I crunched my creative power down deep.

In response it filled my belly with fury. Emotionally, I never felt much except a white hot rage.

When I I wasn’t erupting outward and ruining someone else’s life, I was torturing myself. Life was literally a living hell for awhile.

Then I was taught about power and how I could use it to alter the way changes affected me. Before long, as I realised just how much input I have in creating my life, everything turned around.

Life was good for a long while.

Then, and I’m not even sure at what point this occured, I found myself squelching my creativity once more and using my gifts in regimental ways. I think I believed that in so doing I could reach a greater variety of people.

I was wrong. All that  happened was that I appeared generic, something I’ve always abhorred.

Even though I wasn’t happy and I wanted out, I found myself locked in place for time. How do you make the announcement that you’re sort of what you appear yet something altogether different?

Power hemorrhage to the nth degree!

Then the spirits made me painfully aware of the destructive spiral I was re-creating, in ways only spirits can. I baled the banana boat and focused on reclaiming my power.

Today I stand in my own power, a much more free and happy man. I know building and retaining power is a life long pursuit but it’s not difficult if you remain aware and take it one step at a time.







Spiders On The Web Of Wyrd

Although many don’t recognise it, we’re all spiders, spinning our fates between the worlds. Our web designs are complicated and none of the threads will lead us from point A to point B.

Regardless we all ultimately end up at all the same mainline junctures, where our choices then determine the specific destinations we find ourselves in. This makes us both same and unique. No life is identical in the web of Wyrd.

That’s what makes every choice you make at those junctures crucial. Your choices determine whether you’ll get the life of your dreams or some unexpected variation (One’s not necessairly better than the other because sometimes dreams are based upon ignorance). No pressure, right?

So how can you know you’ll make the best decisions when you hit those crucial points? In all honesty, you don’t. You can only make what seems the best choices at the time. That’s why you need to forgive yourself when and if you find you’ve made  horrible mistakes. Make restitution, if you can without further worsening the damage done (that’s only just), then let it go.

You can, however, guarantee that you’ll make a greater number of profitable decisions if you focus on both the short and long term effects they have upon yourself, your community, the spirits and the universe.

If you don’t believe your decisions to have that vast of an impact, I’d urge you to consider the butterfly effect Continue reading “Spiders On The Web Of Wyrd”

Thank You Demon- Sorry Its Been So Long Coming

A few days ago, I had the opportunity to share my tale of what brought me to the magickal path. I relived every second of the experience as I shared about the demon and the portal in my room.

Since the re-telling, my mind has casted me back to that point of time over and over. Until this morning I couldn’t figure out why. The re-telling wasn’t just a chance to communicate my past with another, it was a chance to realise some truths vital to my walk.

The demon I perceived to be tormenting me when it threatened to make my life a living hell was a messiah in disguise, a spirit sent to challenge me to accept my strengths and prepare me to volunteer to step into horrible places I wouldn’t have gone willingly.

It did these things not out of hate but out of a love I was too young and inexperienced to understand. It used my terror and my anger to prepare me for my calling.

Had it not been for my experience with it I’d never:

  • Been aware of portals, other spirits to interact with or the multiverse
  • Had a heart and understanding of why people are capable of great good as well as great evil
  • Learned to travel the multiverse and return to my time and place with helpful remedies for self and others
  • Overcome my fear of death
  • Become a Pastor, Witch or Shaman
  • Known of my gifts (those I share with others as well as those unique to me)

So this year when I walk the labyrinth in celebration for the return of the light, I will also cherish the darkness and thank the demon that made me so uncomfortable that I willingly stepped through my first portal and claimed my power for the first time.

The Day Of Reckoning

Today was the day of reckoning and it didn’t sit well with me. I’d been procrastinating and making excuses to hold the event off but I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever. Finally I bowed my knee to the fact that today was it.

I felt hopeful and anxious all the way to the store, desperate to know but terrified of being disappointed. What brought all these polar thoughts and emotions together? Nothing less than trying on a pair of jeans one waist size less than the ones I’m currently wearing.

During my juice detox I appeared to have lost a fair amount of weight (not my intention or goal when I went on the detox). I chose to wait at least a couple of weeks after adding solid foods back into my diet before finding out if there was any reduction to my waistline. Today marks three weeks.

When I searched the racks I couldn’t find a pair of jeans in my size. Setback, yes, but I had to know. I just had to. I grabbed a pair that was two inches too long and headed for the fitting rooms, dreading what the mirror would reveal.

Adding to my angst was the atmosphere. The fitting rooms were all full save one. I passed a family standing outside an open door, loudly complimenting and praising their child’s choice of clothing. Further I went; finally, occupying a room next to a small lady that appeared as uncomfortable as I with us being  neighbours.

Once in, I bolted the door, took a few deep breaths and mentally prepared for any eventuality. I gave my double in the mirror a good luck thumbs up just prior to dropping my jeans and pulling on the ones with the desired waist size.

I buttoned and zipped them without having to strain. That was a good sign indeed. They felt wonderful. I looked in the mirror to see my reflection grinning from ear to ear. We were both impressed with the look, save the length. That looked clownish.

Just before I let out an almighty whoop, I remembered where I was. Quietly, I put my soon to be retired baggy jeans on and walked out of the fitting rooms glowing.

What an awesome way to start the day!


Copyright Paul Thurman - The Urban Shaman

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