Tag Archives: dream

The Three Dreams (Dream 3, The Lamb)

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Shiva White Lamb

Shiva White Lamb

36. Concentration may also be attained by fixing the mind upon the Inner Light, which is beyond sorrow.
37. Or by meditating on the heart of an illumined soul, that is free from passion.
38. Or by fixing the mind upon a dream experience, or the experience of deep sleep.

from The Yoga Aphorisms Of Patanjali (as translated by Swami Prabhavananada)

It’s hard to say how long I had been on this pilgrimage, but I found myself suddenly traversing the last leg of it, which started at the bottom of a hill, or perhaps it was the final peak of a mountain. Mountain? Hill? It was hard to tell when all that concerned me lie ahead. Up there, unseen, was my higher self. As I climbed that peak, the ground covered in patchy chill blue grass and porous stones, I began to notice the toads. They were hard to miss, thousands, of large Bufo Alvarius, the DMT toads. These toads were hopping their fat warty bodies here and there on the path as I ascended, the toads sometimes hopping onto my bare feet, me sometimes having to step over and around them, ever conscious that one might hop right in my path as I set my foot down. The higher I climbed, the more toads covered the hilltop. It appeared there was no other life on that hill but me, my higher self, and these magical toads.

At the top, there she was, me, my higher self, a hilltop ascetic. I don’t remember much about my higher self, only that she had been sitting atop the mountain like Lord Shiva on Mt. Kailash. There I, She, Shiva, was, centered, chanting, so deeply immersed in samadhi that I am not even sure she saw this little me, her unrealized self, coming ever nearer. She had merged with God, Om Shivoham! The toads barked, hopped, and many stood silently, a tribe of hundreds and hundreds all around both of me, and thousands beyond.

As was so with my conversation with The Panther in which Her words turned to sand when I awoke from that cave of wonders, so has the encounter with my higher self been lost to the mists of the mountain on which she did her meditation, but I think we merged, and I attained and realized her. I emerged as her, as I can only recall there being one of us as I stared down the path towards home. But I can not say, perhaps she was sitting in meditation behind me, I wish that part of the experience had not become veiled in such uncertainty.

Regardless, The path down from the hill was not the same path I had climbed to ascend its peak, and this path was far more covered in toads. As I stared down the winding path there were thousands upon thousands of toads with glowing white eyes covering the path, seeming to stretch on infinitely. The white light shining from their eyes filled me with a strange awe, that though eerie, did not frighten me, and though they were not perfectly still, they were subdued and staring at, or rather into, me. One of them, far below, began to rise up over the others, and to move towards me. This toad seemed to be almost floating a head above the others,but it was hard to tell as it was so far away all I could see was the light of the white eyes as it ascended. As it came higher up the hill I noticed a whiteness around the eyes as well, and when it crested the hill to stand above the toads and directly before me, my eyes went wide! This had been no toad, but The White Lamb! The Lamb stood there at the head of the path, staring and blessing eyes of pure white light glowing, offering me an ecstasy of peace and silent wisdom.

When I awoke, I worried that this dream would dissolve as certain as most dreams do, but I soon realized this was the dream that put the other two into perspective as being of powerful personal and spiritual significance. This was the third dream! So many significant things come in threes, wishes, the trinity, the eyes of Shiva, the three lines of Shiva’s head, the three bears, the three little pigs, three is a magic number. And this, The Lamb completed the cycle. As this was a year ago I know that cycle of dreams, that cycle of prophetic dreams, of visions, is complete. Other dreams and visions are likely to come, but they will tell other truths. I will add that like the other two dreams, this one is clearer and more real to me than yesterday.

Bufo Alvarius

Bufo Alvarius

Why the toads? And who was The Lamb to me? If the Panther was Atman and attainment through meditation, if The Horse was the power and strength of courage it would take for me to travel the spiritual path… what was The Lamb?

But first, why the hill? Why the pilgrimage towards the higher self? The hill, or mountaintop, it possessed qualities of both, was obvious in meaning. Serious spiritual progress is an uphill battle, like any pilgrimage, it is an ordeal, glorious, but an ordeal nonetheless. And atop that hill my higher self sat as Shiva atop Mt. Kailash. At first, why the hill was covered in DMT toads was a mystery. Of course it had been my experiences with DMT that had opened me up enough to finally be able to receive such dreams and visions, to finally realize that my higher self was attainable, but why, specifically, were the toads there? Well, that I at least would understand once the Lamb rose up from among them, but what was far more spectacular was that I had come on pilgrimage to seek audience or to merge with my higher self.

Om Shivoham.

The whole point is to know that I am the higher self as much as I now live as this ego-driven self. I am nirguna (without form) just as I am saguna (with form). That higher self was the Shiva I am to realize. In the dream I am fairly certain I merged with her, but like my dream of The Panther where our conversation did not survive the trip back to waking reality, neither did the events that took place between us on that hill survive waking up. Had I really merged with my higher self, or do I recall her being behind me? perhaps I should meditate on that a little longer, but for now I choose to believe that I had either merged with my higher self, or I now, at the very least, knew not only that she existed, but where to find her, and regardless as to whether or not we merged, she is my conduit to Absolute Reality, to moksha (liberation), to realization and realizing of Shiva. I know this, that higher self is existential, and I have enough faith in the message of this vision to have hope that I may realize her in my waking life. As I consider it now, why would my higher self appear to me were I not meant to realize her? It seems to me this dream was showing my the goal if not my destiny. This dream, as Brother Shankara said, was no mere dream, it was prophetic. That higher self is attainable, and although I have yet to fully realize her, she is already in me, under it all, she IS ME! Will I ever find her under all this flesh and bullshit I wear as I travel the material world as Barefoot Justine?

Once my time with her was done and I turned to go, I was not to go down the same path I had followed in my ascent. I was now going to travel a new road. How could I possibly go backwards down the same path I ascended after witnessing or merging with my higher self? But perhaps that’s part of it, perhaps I am constantly merging with that higher self, perhaps that merging is less a single moment and more a process. Regardless, I was heading down off the hill from a different point of view, down a very different path.

The path before me was lined and filled three deep with DMT toads, and why became obvious as my dream progressed. At first it simply was a reminder that it was DMT that had brought me closer to Shiva, that opened me up to meditation, that had cured me of relentless anxiety, and had revealed to me the secrets that have fed me for the past year and a half. Without the light of this entheogen I might still be stuck in the mud spiritually, spinning my wheels on the wheel of samsara, I might not be able to meditate, I might be stuck in a feedback loop of anxiety and self loathing thoughts. The funny thing is that I never took DMT from a toad, I took the DMT that came from ayahuasca, or at least it had been created molecularly to be the same as the DMT in ayahuasca. Why the toads? Well, I guess because they are a more poetic and intriguing symbol than a vine. Besides, out here on the lake, I am surrounded by the roar of frogs on the lake, and “Bufo Alvarius” are not really toads, they’re called “DMT toads,” but they’re really frogs. Why the glowing white eyes? Well, the light seems to me to have been just that, “The Light.” DMT led me out of the darkness and into the light, so of course the eyes of the toads glowed to bathe me in their light. That light had dispelled the darkness in which I was living, had brought an end to much of my ignorance.

But what exactly was the light they shone on me? I have experienced what I can only describe as “the eternal,” have enjoyed the bliss of being without ego. I have a better understanding of the nature of maya, and for better or for worse, have experienced alternate realities, perhaps greater realities. I have experienced the joy of a silent self, a self without desire, memory, even the pollution of a single thought. I have been able to disassociate from headaches, thereby curing several of them (most of the time I can’t pull this one off either). I have realized oneness and the nature of “reality” and maya in glorious ecstasies. All of these things have actually been shown to me, have been experienced by me, even if I get scared and my shriveling little ego cannot handle it, these things are existential, and are far greater and far truer than the simple constructs my ego prefers. The problem I have now is those experiences, those moments and ecstasies have been fleeting, I am far from enlightened. I am awake, I am aware, I am grateful for the experiences… but I have a long long way to go.

“Although lord Shiva is omnipresent he is not seen by the people of deluded intellect. He is known as a mere lord, he who is beyond the reach of minds and words.”

Siva Purana

“Fly my pretties… fly!”

The Wicked Witch of the West

Our ego, and our intellect, work in tandem, as one. They work to maintain their self-appointed tyranny over all they see. Think of this union of ego and intellect being rather like the Wicked Witch of the West in Oz. Dorothy comes in with a load of truth, revealing the great and might Oz to be nothing more than a little man behind a curtain, showing her friends how to surpass their weaknesses, and the witch does not like this, and neither does our ego. Our ego will do anything to maintain its place as self-appointed dictator of our lives, and anything that threatens its supremacy, say like spiritual truth, prophecy or realization, is a threat to the tyrannical toddler that is the ego. Anything that comes along to threaten the ego’s tiny little construct, anything that threatens its tidy little notions about the nature of reality has to go, so the ego, like the wicked witch sends its flying monkeys out to rip to shreds any truth that threatens it, that threatens the status quo. This is why when we have mystical experiences or experience things that are beyond our limited understanding of how reality is constructed and how reality works, it must be destroyed. The ego will defend itself from any truth that threatens to usurp its power. And it will fight dirty and it will fight tirelessly.

“Reasoning is necessary, but we should not let it swallow the faith in us. We should not allow the intellect to eat up our heart. Too much knowledge means nothing but a big ego. The ego is a burden, and a big ego is a big burden.”

Amritanandamayi Ma

Most of us will use our intellects to undo any magic, realization or spiritual progress by sending in the flying monkeys to dismantle, disassmble, dismember and discredit anything that threatens it or the limitation in which it is comfortable. “No, not me, I couldn’t have had a prophetic dream, those sorts of things don’t happen, the dream was just a collection of cliches and corny old symbols that I, the ego, the king of all I see, has created, therefor there is no depth, no truth, no prophecy, and indeed no God, after all if there was a God, if there were mystical experiences, science would have shown me evidence.” Then the flying monkeys go back to the witch and everything returns to normal in the good ol’ land of Oz, in the good ol’ land of our limited reality. We call things “coincidences” just to make ourselves more comfortable. “Coincidence,” ha, so far as I’m concerned “coincidence” is just another word for “cowardice,” as the word is used to discredit any ideas or experiences that suggest the universe is so big and mysterious that our brains cannot comprehend it and our science cannot explain or prove it. Frankly, I don’t need science (man’s intellect and ego) to prove to me that what I have seen I have seen, what I have experienced I have experienced, and that what I know I know.

Why do we fear greater realities? Because to the ego, its death is a great agony and threatens to undo everything we earned, everything we own, and everything we thought we knew. The ego knows that spiritual awakening, that prophecies and signs are nothing but trouble. We all know, don’t we, that it’s easier to disassemble, discredit and dismiss the deep truths that are revealed to us rather than to let them destroy us, rather than allowing ourselves to be transformed and reborn… who needs all that? Well… I do! I long for such destruction, ordeal or no, agony or no, it is also the greatest of liberations! And the White Lamb came to me in all its innocence, with all its light and purity to remind me that through spiritual use of entheogens, meditation, contemplation and study, that my old model of the world, of reality, was too small and that I am not to sacrifice that knowledge on the altar of democratically constructed “reality” and that tyrant of tininess… the ego! I am to be strong and brave enough to live up to what I know to be so, whatever the consequences. And there have been, are, and will be consequences… but, as uncomfortable as those consequences might be, they are merely waves tumbling over an ocean of vast peace, knowledge, and Godhead. The consequences of not following spiritual truths through in life, I have to say, are far greater than the consequences of dismissing them.

“‘Faith’ is often used by agnostics as a term of abuse. That is to say, it is taken to refer to the blind credulity which accepts all kinds of dogmas and creeds without question, repeating parrot-like what it has been taught, and closing its ears to doubt and reason. Such ‘faith’ should certainly be attacked. It is compounded of laziness, obstinacy, ignorance and fear. Because it is rigid an unyielding it can quite easily be shaken and altogether destroyed. … True faith is provisional, flexible, undogmatic, open to doubt and reason.”

from Swami Prabhavananda’s “How To Know God”

No, of course we need to discriminate, but using our intellect to discriminate is entirely different than using our intellect to dismiss. And it is so that any faith that cannot bear testing is of no real value. If your faith cannot stand up to questioning, it is a sad and tired faith. Faith must be built upon solid stone and hard work. But, when we are given truth and insight, it is to be welcomed, not shunned.

The Lamb represents truth, truths that have survived discrimination and have emerged from my DMT experiences (hence the toads) and greatly furthered by my spiritual practices. The Lamb came to remind me of those truths, and more specifically, of the sacredness of those truths. The Lamb came to show me that only my higher self, which I had merged with, will be capable of remembering and holding those truths. The Lamb came to remind me not to disregard what I have experienced and what I know. The Lamb came to remind me not to give in to materialist constructs or cynicism. If the intellect always returns one to cynicism, said intellect knows no wisdom.

The Lamb is wisdom!

The toads revealed The Lamb to me, to remind me never to forget that I have been shown truths, pure truths that I am not to dismiss, deny, or allow my ego to destroy.

The Lamb was the third eye of Shiva opening upon and within me. The Lamb, gentle and pure as it was… IS my destruction! And now that it has revealed itself to me, I have to travel a different path than the one I took to realize my higher self and see The Lamb. Up one side of the hill and down another, the journey continues, but I can never go home again no matter how many times I click my heels.

I came up one path, have been destroyed, have been reborn, have been shown challenging truths. The Lamb came to show me this, and now I must use all the power of The Horse as I follow a new path to realize The Panther, and through Her, to journey ever deeper into the mysteries. My old game is over, the jig is up, and I am up to contending with what all that entails, and I will call upon The Lamb, The Horse and The Panther as I realize my true nature as Brahman, as Atman, as Shiva!

Om Shivoham!

And yet as I meditated this very morning (the morning of my writing the next draft of this entry), an alternate accounting of my meeting with my higher self was realized. In meditation I chose to try and see this dream from a different perspective, so instead of seeing it from the perspective of myself as the pilgrimaging seeker, in meditation I saw the vision from the perspective of my higher self, and I became that higher self, I realized Shiva. I saw Justine approaching me, and saw with great compassion that though she came as a sincere seeker, I saw her pain, her entanglements, attachments, and the many scars she carries. I hurt for her. I felt terribly sorry and hoped she would let go and merge with me, realize me. We both knew I was her, that we were one, but she, perhaps, did not yet know how to realize me, her higher self, so I guided her to the road she was to follow and manifested The White Lamb to forever remind her of the deepest knowledge and great wisdom she has already realized. I will wait patiently for her, and I will guide her compassionately, for I am She.

Om Shivoham!

I am here for her to realize, and I am her whether or not she realizes it to be so.

I will add that in the days following the above meditation and its revelations, I have begun to see the world more and more from the perspective of my higher self, and I have begun to realize that I am living two lives, having been split in two by the desperate clinging force of my ego and the greater force of my many realizations, dreams, prophecies and knowledge.

But I know who I am, I know what I want…

Om Shivoham!

Regardless which story, which translation of this visionary dream I choose, at their core, they are pretty much the same, aren’t they?

Har Har Mahadev!

The Three Dreams (Dream 2, The Horse)

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Shiva White Horse

Shiva White Horse


“Emboldened by so many battles won, again the demons charge,
Battering me with obscenities and curses they’ve handcrafted,
From the rhythms of my beating heart and the crimson of my blood,
In peace and with one breath of God I blow out all their flames,
And in the stillness bind them to each nightmare they inspire,
They’ll not have me, this time at last, for I am not of them.”

A verse from the poem “The Battle” by Barefoot Justine
(For complete poem: https://barefootjustine.com/2016/03/21/the-battle/)

My room consists of a lot of windows, the front of my room is nothing but one huge wall to wall floor to floor window overlooking the swamp and a lake, and the side wall offers me an unspoiled panoramic view into the forest. While I love the view and my windows… I don’t have much room for art or posters on what little wall space I do have, so instead of looking at art… I look out through my windows into the ever-changing forest, where I have seen young fawns lying at the feet of their mothers, predatory birds on the hunt, and about everything but other people. The view out the side window caught my attention as the sun coming in shone more golden and brilliantly than usual. There was more sky than I remembered. I was drawn to get up, and was astonished to find that the landscape was not the same. When I look out the window, now as I am writing, I see forest, but in that reality it wasn’t that way. What I saw was a meadow, and to the right, running parallel to the back wall of my room was the forest, a perfect line of trees and undergrowth. The sun had lit up the meadow in rich rolling golden greens, and rich deep greens.

Suddenly there was a stir coming from the forest, something deep among the trees, something massive, a dinosaur, a cyclone, Paul Bunyan, something, was ripping its way through the leaves out into the meadow. Leaves, twigs, Spanish moss, birds and dragonflies flew and blew out over the meadow from ground to treetop. The trees were bending and blowing outward towards the meadow like tall shafts of midsummer sweetgrass.

Then came a rustling, almost as if a furious and starving prehistoric predator were charging through the forest and towards the meadow. The chaos was thunderous and tumultuous. A beast, the size of a dinosaur, broke through the tree line and out onto the meadow, stopping, dust and leaves settling around its mighty legs. It was The Great White Wild Horse! White or no, the body of The Horse was scarred and haggard like the walls of an ancient embattled fortress. She was earthy, as if she had emerged from the ground itself, and stood with the presence of an ash covered ascetic. Yes, though it was weathered like an old stone mountain, it was luminously beautiful. I was awe struck as I stood staring at this The Great White Wild Horse. It towered over many of the trees, and its mane blew and whipped the leaves from the over-reaching branches. Its breath rumbled like alligator bellies to the ground, like thunder.

Yet The Horse was saddled. And the saddle belonged on The Horse, was as much a part of The Horse as its mane. Then, from around the side of the house came my friend, we’ll call him Jay. Now, Jay, being Jay, he put his rational mind to work and decided to free the poor horse from its saddle. As he stood under it, working the buckles, I was horrified! Couldn’t he see? This is a mythic beast! You don’t just amble up to it and start messing with its stuff! To my further horror, The Horse bucked up on its hind legs, its front right hoof poised to crush my dear friend Jay! Down it came, like a falling brick tower, it’s hoof down on him. The last thing I wanted to see was my dear friend, atheist or no, crushed under The Great White Wild Horse. But The Horse stopped short, gently but firmly pinning Jay to the ground, applying no more pressure than what it took to hold him to the ground. It’s head, nearly big as a bus, turned to me. It’s black eyes were the size of bowling balls. Her stare burrowed through my many sad delusions and unconscious illusions, as if to tell me who I truly was.

And I woke up.

I hadn’t even figured out The Panther, and now I had to work out who or what this Horse was. Now I had to work out what it was telling me. I knew the dream was big, but what I didn’t know was that it was so big it was part of a trilogy of dreams that had not yet been completed. It seemed I was dreaming my own personal “Lord Of The Rings.” In waking from the dream of The Great White Wild Horse, The Panther dream, I suddenly realized, took on even greater significance.

Though these dreams happened about a year ago, thanks to Brother Shankara, I have just recently found answers, as he had suggested I meditate on them. As it turns out, the very day I meditated on The Panther, answers came to me about all three dreams, The Panther, The Horse and The Lamb. Meditation is a powerful thing, and while it took DMT to destroy the walls my ego had put between myself and these larger truths, this deeper knowledge of self and the nature of maya, now it seemed I was so open to the larger truths and realities that Panthers were speaking to me and Horses were staring God-like gazes into my deepest corners.

Since the forest here has become my Guru, let’s first consider the forest itself. Of course The Horse came from, and was probably born of, the forest, of the wild, just as I have gone wild out here in the forest of my Guru. I live in the middle of Newnan’s Lake State Forest, and so much has this forest become my Guru that upon returning from a week long trip, when I got home the first thing I did upon my return was head straight for its paths. As I walked the dirt road to its end, as I got ever nearer the paths and trees, I felt the same elation any Devotee must feel as she returns to her human Guru. This Horse was not only emerging from the forest, but was inviting me deeper into it, deeper into its truths, deeper into my self, further from maya. This Horse was not merely emerging from a forest, but The Forest that was my Guru! Right now, at this stage in my spiritual development, the answers are in meditation (which I do in my room, from where I saw The Horse), and in the shade, rain, sun and mud of the forest (which was from where The Horse came).

“Man, the imperfect, the bound, the sorrowful, has a thousand enemies within. He is riddled with negative thoughts, fears, yearning. These are selfishness, jealousy, meanness, prejudice and hatred–just to mention but a few. The Sadhak must get rid of these lawless villains within. With Mother Kali’s Kripa, these destructive masters are to be annihilated. No amount of soft persuasions can avail. The forces of Sri Rudra must be applied. There must be a deep, determined, adamantine resolve, and a fight royal within, as sanguine as Kali’s ferocious sword dripping with blood; and unless the Sadhak is ready to wear about his neck the Skull-mala of these murdered false values there can be no peace or order within.”

Swami Chinmayananda from “Symbolism In Hinduism”

So… who was this Horse? Was she Ma Durga. “Mother?” Why was it so wild, so raw, so uncivilized… and yet wore a saddle? I am a person with wild, raw, sometimes uncivilized emotions, that at times to me feel like raw unprocessed feminine power, a power of emotion that can help me proceed when others would pull back, but a power that has not only a deconstructing power, but a destructive power as well. The Horse is Shakti! The Horse is the other half of Shiva, the feminine. But The Horse is also everything I need to carry me through not only life, but the coming challenges of a life that is slowly growing more spiritual, a life that may well take me away from all my material attachments. I need that power, but I need to reign it in, I need to master it, just as I have needed to learn to master my mind and my emotions (both of which I have only begun to do). The Horse, perhaps more clearly than anything, is my courage, my strength and my energy. My feminine power indeed, my Shakti! These powers need not only focused, steered, and guided, they need to be integrated. In the dream The Horse was outside of me, staring not only through my eyes, but through my windows! The Horse started off outside of me, in the depths of my forest Guru, and turned and, with its black eyes, bore its depths right into mine. The Horse was outside, in my forest, outside my room, outside my body… but through our eyes, we were one.

Just last week, which was about a week after the metaphors and symbols of these dreams were decoded through meditation, I was hiking with my friend Melissa on Payne’s Prairie. As we hiked out onto the prairie, we noted at first a little rabbit, then hundreds of dragonflies all buzzing around our knees, and just ahead, five wild horses, one a young colt! Honest to God wild horses were just ahead on the path! As we approached them, several deer came charging out from the underbrush across the path to splash into the swampy marsh on the other side. This was, quite simply, the most unbelievable series of wildlife encounters I have ever had on land. We chose a safe distance from the horses (a very close safe distance as these horses are used to people being about) and we sat in the grass of the path and meditated. The wild horses went about their grazing, and we went about our meditating. As I had been contemplating this dream of The Horse and all the truths my meditation had revealed about The Horse, having the opportunity to meditate in the presence of five wild horses was intensely holy to say the very least. I was on holy ground.

Unlike the five wild horses on the prairie, The Great White Wild Horse of my dream was saddled. The saddle, I have only just understood, as it had been one of the big mysteries up to now, meant that I was to ride that horse, to guide that horse, to reign in and master that Horse… my own power, powers that at times seem to throw their energy like a spray of sparks. That Horse and saddle represented fiery hot virtues that are mine to realize, integrate and harness to propel me forward. Too often, now, I am afraid, those energies and powers still tend to run rampant.

Yes, though The Horse meant to be ridden, its powers harnessed, it is nonetheless meant to remain forever wild! I am to focus that energy, but not tame the wild intensity out of it. Both the tamed and saddled powers and the wild forest of emotional power are part of me, part of The Horse, and part of Lord Shiva. Just as Shiva, who came to his wedding party wild as an Aghori, so the wildness of The Horse is among my aspects. But just as Shiva reigned in his wildness and put on a civilized form, so was The Horse saddled, so am I to learn to ride my own power and forms with more grace. Just as Shiva had to tame his Aghoric aspects for his wedding to Parvati, so am I to tame the wildness of my Shakti… but like Shiva, only when needed. I am not to conquer or sublimate my wildness, only to harness it and keep my hands on the reigns, until I learn to ride that wind bareback.

I am The Panther Woman, and I am The Wild White Horse.

Om Shivoham!

“The materialists — those who describe themselves as being ‘down to earth’ — are the ones who are living in an unreal world, because they limit themselves to the level of gross sense perception. But the perception of the illumined saint ranges over the whole scale, from gross to subtle and from subtle to absolute; and it is only he who knows what the nature of this universe actually is.”

From Swami Prabhavananda’s commentary on Patanjali’s “How To Know God.”

So who is Jay and why did he try and unsaddle The Great White Wild Horse? Jay is a materialist through and through, a political atheist, one of those guys who reads the “Humanist” magazine. You know the magazine, the one that always has a picture of some smug bearded middle-aged guy accompanied by a quote about how he believes only in his precious intellect (his over-developed ego), in what he has decided is “reason.” Those guys are a little like Daksha from the story of Shiva’s wedding to Sati. Daksha, Sati’s father, who was very offended by Lord Shiva’s ascetic wildness and disregard for social convention, but that is a simplistic reading. Daksha represented ego, a life centered around society, and cultural rules, which includes subcultural rules, and in subcultures the rules and codes of conduct demand far more conformity than those of mainstream society. Though Jay is an atheist and progressive, he lives a life that involves a lot more committee meetings (society, rules of engagement, etc.) than I could tolerate. When I do go to committee meetings (be they with city officials or museum officials or whoever), I do so barefoot in bangles, bindi and bare legs, as if to say, “I’ll do the work, I’ll do it well… but I am not one of you, I am not part of this committee, and I will remain The Panther Woman!” I relate to Shiva’s Ganas, outsiders who are not accepted by mainstream society but who are accepted by Shiva. I lead an internal introverted life. Jay leads an extroverted life, a life dependent upon outward pursuits. Now, I love Jay, but needless to say, we couldn’t be much more different. Now, I would like to say that in every other way Jay is not much like Daksha in that, for example, he, too is pretty uncivilized (like me), and he is in NO WAY interested in conservative rituals and points of view, but in the context of the dream, those Daksha-like qualities of Jay were of paramount symbolic and metaphoric importance.

So, why did The Horse rear up and pin Jay to the ground? Why did She do so without harming him? Because Jay is a really good man doing really good things, and The Horse and I (rather… The Horse IS I) love him… and love him just they way he is. But in the dream Jay was not Jay, Jay was a symbol for godless atheism and materialism (and NOT in the “materialistic” sense, Jay has, like me, practically taken a vow of poverty out here, but in the sense that he believes in non-spiritual intellectual/scientific solutions to life’s problems). The Horse wanted to keep Jay, and that aspect of me who is like him, under Her hoof. I am not to give into Godlessness or materialism. I am to face such concerns with courage and in steadfast power, just as The Horse silenced him under Her hoof. My spirituality is not to be trifled with externally or internally. In other words, I know the whole atheist and materialist song and dance, I know it well and inside and out, but I do not need to continue to let it infect me and it will take all the courage and power of The Horse for me to rise above such doubts and concerns. I am, like The Horse, to dominate such thoughts, I am to face courageously, yet say NO to thinking that binds me to maya. I am not to run away from the hard questions, challenges to my faith or doubts, no, I am to harness all of my power and face them… and THAT takes courage.

In a sense, The Panther was Atman, but also, in a sense, Purusha, and The Horse was raw earthy power, my courage and strength, but also, as she was a manifestation of the Goddess and her power, Prakriti. One is to be attained and realized (The Panther, Purusha); the other is energy to be ridden for spiritual purposes (The Horse, Prakriti). Yes, The Horse IS my power, my courage, but is also Shiva, is also fearlessness, or at the very least, by calling upon The Horse, by realizing or attaining The Horse within, I am to be fearless yet in control. I will need full access to my power, my Shakti, if I am to realize my spiritual potential, if I am to realize Shiva!

Om Shivoham!

I am Shiva!

NEXT: The Three Dreams (Dream 3, The White Lamb)

The Three Dreams (Dream 1, The Panther)

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Shiva Panther Self (Barefoot Justine)

Shiva Panther Self (Barefoot Justine)

“He has no Gotra, family or name. He is independent. He is favorably disposed to His Devotees. At His will He assumes bodies taking many names. He is full of attributes.”

Siva Purana

I have had three powerful dreams, rather like in “A Christmas Carol,” and no less transformative or real. I only bind them to a word as reductive as “dreams” due to the conceptual limitations of our language. I use the word “dreams” because these profound spiritual moments occurred when I was sleeping, and manifested themselves within the reality of the dreamworld. What I really had were three enigmatic visitations of holy truths, three visions, wherein three animals came to open their light upon me like the three eyes of Shiva. These “dreams” were no less reality than the construct we have democratically agreed upon as “reality,” in fact, to me these three dreams are more real by far than yesterday. Yesterday, it seems to me, was much more a dream. Like a meal, yesterday has nourished and passed through me, as I have nourished and passed through it. But today, still, those dreams, are me, and I am them, and they do not pass through me, they continue to nourish me at every moment. They will forever be part of my present.

First I dreamt of The Panther who has been both golden and black; then of The Great White Horse; then of The Pure White Lamb. Yes, I had three dreams, three visions, and as I recently told a friend, when something comes to you in threes, treat it as personal scripture.

“The number of the stars in the sky, of the sand particles on the earth and of the bursting showers of heavy rain can be specified by intelligent persons at some time in the course of many births over many kalpas; but not of the incarnations of Shiva; know my words to be true.”

Siva Purana

I had been spiritually stuck up until about a year and a half ago when I asked for help from “The Spirit Molecule.” Though I have since graduated from a year and a half of respectful exploration with our plant teachers, molecules and entheogens, at that time I began exploring I needed to regroove, rewire and move beyond the place where my mind, emotions, and spirituality were stuck like a wheel in a rut. I understood that often entheogens could help a person who was stuck in a rut. As I said, I have graduated, I no longer need this boost and have given away the last few doses of my psychedelics. As Alan Watts said about LSD, “Once you get the message, hang up the phone.” Alan, I got the message. For me those messages, those journeys were great, so great they opened me up to profound truths and far less limited notions of “reality,” they cleansed me, healed me of a lot of unnecessary suffering and brought me closer to Shiva The Destroyer, as through DMT, Shiva destroyed me! I worship such destruction.

Taking DMT was a big deal, I had never taken a psychedelic before, and I never took DMT for granted, so much so that I would plan my trips and prepare. Contrary to the frankly snobbish opinion of Ayahuasca purists who errantly believe DMT has no spiritual value… it does, and like it or not, that’s a FACT! The integration of the DMT experience does not take place over the course of a six hour trip like it does with mushrooms or Ayahuasca, it takes place in the subconscious, the discriminatory intellect, and in the weeks, months and years following the trips. The integration process brought me ever closer to experiencing and realizing that I am Atman. Once DMT changes you down to your deepest core, it continues to change and enlighten you forevermore. But DMT is intense, and it takes a lot of preparation.

Late one Sunday night, I went to bed knowing that on the following Monday evening I was going to trip, was going to cross over into another world (what Shaman’s consider the spirit world), another reality, a higher self, hopefully an infinite place without ego. I hasten to add that though I had this vision of The Panther when I was NOT on DMT, but the night before, it was previous use of DMT that had opened me up to other deeper realities and possibilities… it was DMT that got me unstuck. As I slept I journeyed to a place that, though it was enshrouded in mystery, contained far more personal and complicated truth than even what DMT could reveal. A vision came to me, or a “dream” if you’re the type who is too afraid of the spirit world and God to face up to any truth bigger than you. I am not afraid of things that are too big for the bit of grey pudding in my skull, nor of things the fragile delusional ego cannot bear… but buddy, it ain’t been easy!

The “dream” went something like this: I found myself on a barren landscape bowing, perhaps even groveling, before a monolithic panther on a boulder, not just “a panther,” but “The Panther.” I recall “The Panther” as having been gold. She stood before me like the Sphynx, though unlike the Sphynx, the riddles of The Panther were meant to be solved. I was on the barren and comparatively tiny “reality” we all know and continue to create, and The Panther was in that twilight zone between that smaller reality (maya) that I (and we) inhabit, and the DMT realm, as I once thought, though I now realize that what stretched beyond The Panther was not DMT reality, but was the an alternate reality, perhaps some realization of the Absolute Reality, the great truths, the other half of me. Though light shone from behind The Panther, beyond The Panther was darkness (things I am ignorant of), the infinite and the Divine. By taking DMT the following evening I was going to be crossing over into that reality… so why was The Panther between me and that reality? Why was The Panther between me and traveling between these two worlds?

The Golden Panther spoke to me, but like the gold being taken from the cave of wonders, once I came into the light of day, once I awoke from the cave of wonders that was this vision, the precious gold of The Golden Panther’s words turned to sand and flowed through my fingers, and the once Golden Panther turned black, and in its blackness, it returned me to my ignorance. Was The Panther a guardian warning me to stay on this side and well out of the realities and universes DMT would reveal to me? Was The Panther my guardian there to protect me when I passed into that larger universe? Was The Panther there to test my courage, to ask me riddles, to warn me without telling me what to do? I don’t know, Her words, a language I understood only when physically in Her presence are now, in the ordinary waking reality, little more than the mewls and growls of a predatory cat. What I understood, the language She spoke to me then, has now returned to the realm of mystery. I could not bring the wisdom of The Golden Panther’s words out of the cave of wonders of my visionary dreamworld. I was left with a powerful symbol enshrouded in mystery. I had returned to the darkness of ignorance.

I could not figure out how to solve the riddles of The Panther, let alone The Horse and The Lamb who were yet to come. After a visit to the Vedanta Center of Atlanta, I called Brother Shankara, and he excitedly told me that these dreams were not merely dreams, but were prophetic, and I was to meditate on them. For some reason it had never crossed my mind to meditate on them. Perhaps I was unwilling to fully accept that these dreams were that grand, too humble to truly believe in the dreams as prophetic, I mean, it was unthinkable to me that I (as in “little ol’ me) could be having “prophetic” dreams, I’m still a child as a Seeker… right? Still, was it possible? More specifically, was it possible that I could solve some of the mysteries of The Panther through meditation? I have been following Brother Shankara’s advice and have begun meditating on these “prophetic” visions. Today I meditated on The Panther. Today she revealed to me some of her secrets, or at least aspects of Her truths and Her self. But, I think, like most myths and prophetic visions, their truths will grow and evolve as I grow and evolve, their truths are omnidimensional, and I am certain that like all great truths they will even turn back in on themselves and will perhaps even lead me down paths in the exact opposite direction of the truths I have come to realize today. I expect these truths to contradict themselves. But now, as of this day, this is what I understood through meditation.

“They call you minuter than the atom and greater than the greatest.”

Siva Purana

The Panther was, obviously, in the twilight between my known realities and the realities of the larger universe of Atman, Brahman, of wisdom and knowledge. Twilight beings are sacred, and this Panther was not only standing between worlds, blocking me, but could travel between them. More to the point, this Panther was both worlds, was all worlds, and vibrated between the poles of not only maya and reality, but between the poles of infinity, the same poles we vibrate between. We are composed of infinite space, and whether you need to come to this conclusion through the atheistic materialism of science or the poetic mysteries of Sanatana Dharma, it is still truth. We are infinite within at the quantum level, and there is infinity without that goes beyond and forever into the universe, and we vibrate between these internal and external poles of infinity. Whereas I know I am vibrating between poles of infinity, The Panther IS infinity itself and IS the vibration itself. The Panther was both nirguna (without form) and saguna (with form), as am I, as is Shiva. The Panther, I now realize was, among many things, the infinite column of fire Lord Shiva revealed to Brahma and Vishnu. That column of fire went infinitely within through the ground (flesh) Vishnu burrowed through, and went infinitely into the universe that Brahma flew upwards through. The Panther is Shiva! Like Vishnu who became the burrowing boar, seeking the truth of the infinite as it dug into the ground, so was I, bowing and groveling before The Panther, my head on the dry and barren ground.

And why was the ground I was on barren and dry? Because that is the reality of material life, of maya. It is full of distractions, but all distractions lead to disappointment, fear and anger. All happiness that occurs in the material world is ultimately barren of true or lasting joy. I have become world weary. I have grown weary of material distractions and the trials and disappointments of material life, thus I was bowing my head into the driest of desert dirt.

The Panther was at it’s simplest, Atman; and beyond the simplicity of its being Atman, The Panther was Shiva, was all. Yes, in answer to my earlier questions, The Panther was a warning, an invitation, a guardian, a riddler. The Panther is ME, even though I have not yet attained The Panther. The Panther was not there to tell me what to do, but to show me what to realize. I am to realize The Panther, I am to realize Shiva, I am to realize Self, Ultimately I am to realize Atman. I was not separate from The Panther, nor from what exists at either pole beyond it, as is so with the Atman. I am to realize The Panther before going in so deep again.

Om Shivoham.

I am Shiva.

I am The Panther.

I am Atman.

Tat Tvam Asi.

I went beyond the rock on which The Panther stood using an entheogen as a bridge. And there I was the night before I was going to take DMT again, being told to merge with The Panther, to realize The Panther, to come closer to realizing Atman, before again going over to that side. I was shown great secrets, and became greedy for more, so I kept taking DMT. Now The Panther, Shiva, Atman, Self, was telling me to attain the status of The Panther, The Panther itself, to realize Shiva, Atman and Self before crossing over again. Attainment, realization and wisdom were now between me and crossing over. But this was more than that, in that dream of The Panther, I saw everything revealed, I have yet to understand it, but where I bowed, where The Panther stood, and the Absolute Reality beyond were a singularity, a continuity, were one. They, I and all are Shiva, Atman, one!

The Panther was telling me all of this, and I was not meant to learn more through tripping, but through meditation. The Panther was all the above, warning, riddler, guardian, but more than anything, The Panther was an invitation, a way of telling me that I am now ready to explore what was beyond The Panther through the gentler path of meditation and wisdom rather than through the ripping and tearing of psychedelics. Furthermore, whereas I, as Shamaness, had crossed between the worlds with DMT as the bridge before, now I knew that The Panther itself IS the bridge, more specifically, that realizing myself as The Panther IS the bridge I am to cross… for now. The Panther was telling me that I am ready. These meanings which I realized through meditation were the words of The Panther that had been lost to me when I left the cave of wonders, when Her golden words turned to sand and her coat turned to black, and I returned to my ignorance.

Through meditation, The Panther is now golden again! And I am no longer ignorant, I can hear Her words, Her teachings

Om Shivoham, I am Shiva, I am The Panther, I am Atman. I know all this, and in moments of ecstasy, have realized it, but I have yet to manifest wholly as that truth, I have yet to become fully realized. But I know this, The Panther is the bridge, The Panther is Atman, and I am Atman, and all I have to do is shed maya and realize what I already am, attain what I already am. How is it that we become so confused as to what we truly are? How did I become so distracted and distant from the core truth, the Absolute Reality? How is it I am so afraid to let go?

As the Indians say, “The bee came to suck the honey but got its feet stuck in it.”

It seems I have spent my whole life up to now getting my feet stuck, and now it seems I may spend the rest of my life getting them unstuck, or at least becoming unstuck will be my life’s work until I am liberated from the honey.

Today, this is what I know to be true about that dream. I wonder… what else may be true about that dream? As I get my feet unstuck I am bound to find out. I doubt The Panther has revealed all of its truths to me, but I am grateful to have finally begun to unravel at least a fraction of the mystery. Yet, with all that said, The Panther is a richly symbolic, multidimensional and powerful animal, and who knows what I may have misunderstood, who knows what I may yet learn. Whatever it is I know now… I must remain open, as I am certain The Panther will remain full of mysteries and surprises.

Whatever I think I know now, it may have to move aside as I come closer to The Panther.

Har Har Mahadev!

NEXT: The Three Dreams (Dream 2, The Horse)

Stealing Home

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Stealing Home
by Barefoot Justine

I came to be, under suburban skies more blue than Penny Lane,
A carnival-sweet breeze, the air crisp and green as a Granny Smith,
Sundrenched, adrift, a leaf in the Kool-Aid streets of my childhood,
But I was no child, it was now, I was me, No homework on my back.

Grown up or not, I was still the barefoot girl, same as I knew,
Though conspicuous, brazen, topless, tan and deliciously lost,
The air whispering silk and feather nothings across my breasts,
The streets kissing tar and shard threats under my feet and toes.

Children ran by with streamers and smiles flown high as kites,
Their day-off moms and dads, blissful as candy-apple Buddhas,
A market, a fair, Rockwell painting with all the trimmings,
And I stealing home, and I me, one with, but not one of, them.

A feral flush of tingling joy and naughty nervousness teased me,
In rhythm with each delicious step of barefoot summertime freedom,
Drinking a soda pop cocktail of wild abandon and giggly paranoia,
For what if I was spied, discovered, disapproved of or busted?

Oh my!

My nipples plump as strawberries and ruddy as Bollywood skin,
Pointing the way to ecstasies timed to roller coaster heartbeats,
My toes flexible, the chill air licking tickles between them,
As I, a Red Riding Hood, scurried, climbed, snuck and hurried.

Triangulating between three errands and three states of feeling,
Confusion, how to cover the miles and find my way in my errands,
Terror, I might be busted, copped and jailed topless with pot,
Delight, in getting away with my own hot-buttered drive-in movie.

In shorts alone, tattered denim, bells, toe-rings and bangles,
Long curls, brown here, red there, and hippie in the highlights,
Me a flurry of pink and purple, denim and cheap belled jewelry,
My dark chocolate eyes lit like sparklers under disco eyeshadow,

The silk to silk softness of arms rubbing against ribs a reminder,
I was bare breasted, my porcelain belly creamy as vanilla pudding,
Climbing up and jumping down my teacup breasts bobbled and fizzed,
Each jiggle a jarring reminder that I was more than half-naked.

I was Bardot, I was Mara, I was Hazel, I was barefoot Justine,
I was topless in public, my body, a playground, my day a funhouse,
Unimpressed and scarcely oppressed by pragmatism and patriarchy,
Too slinky and sly to let them shame me, tame me or tie me down,

Ha!

Oh I dreamt every cinnamon and sugar tremble of panic as I went,
Down towards a busy road, buzzing before the miles yet to go,
How could I do it, bare as I was, how would I bear the crowds,
How could I ride this wild tiger, could I make her Shakti mine?

Every block a new adventure, a carnival of sensual delights,
And around each corner surprises, changes in the world I knew,
But all for the better, the streets of nostalgia an exotic bazaar,
I was Valerie, and this was my week of wonders, but all in a day.

I talked with a lady, Though she looked at me, she kept her cool,
“Wow! This is so different, not what I recall,” I said to her.
She glanced at my tits, saying dreamy stuff with marshmallows.
“But I love this place… it’s like Orlando Ohio,” I laughed.

And it was, a curious alley of sculpted delights, a trip, a fancy,
A shopping festival, a parade built right into the walls around,
Colorful as cartoons, and shiny round shapes like daisies and dances,
Like my smile, but spilled out, sculpted and polished top to bottom.

How delicious, the day, trickling like sweet chai in my throat,
How delightful, the ginger warmth of it like curry on my tongue,
An open mouth awaiting each savory bite, each drip and swallow,
One girl, I, running wild through a suburb of earhtly delights.

Each person I passed, shocked, surprised, envious, but indifferent,
Helping me along here, sneering me a warning there, and all as one,
And me as one in them… but for the cops, those bad Blue Meanies,
Trailing me like dogs to take me down like the fair Draupadi…

Though I was already stripped, and all the same, running and hiding,
Ducking around corners when I saw their dark blue battle suits,
And me, child of the forest, running like a stalked and hunted doe,
Tickled as a flushing virgin bride and chuckling like a whore.

I woke up.

But at least in dreams I’d returned, and stole this home as mine,
Free at last, to live the colors of Saturday Morning cartoons,
Free at last to shed the past and dance alive my own fairy tale,
If only for an afternoon, if only for a dream, if not forever…

And ever.