Esoteric Source

An imaginative child I was and convinced, too, was I that there were pixies waiting to play. And just a few days after my daughter and I used the new springtime freshness of Albertan air to search again for sugar plum fairies in Fish Creek Park all these years later, I meet with a woman who divulges, rather brusquely , that despite being described as the antithesis of a light-footed creature since my earliest days when I charged around the home like a baby elephant, I am indeed part of the Fairy Clan, explaining my adoration of all things folklore since babyhood.

I am interested as to how this lady, conversing with such an air of wisdom has entered into a world where she can 'gather soul pieces' and assist with the 'human race being interconnected to the planet'. Actually, how can she note anything fairy-like in me?

She has been hurt, harmed and spiritually harassed by her own past via torturous events in her life and I find her courageous in facing her fears and foes. 'Through doing my own work I got my own soul piece back,' she tells me.

It is the first time that I have met a Shamanic healer and I find it quite fascinating that I am paying heed to the ideas of an ancient, cultural practice that was prevalent 'even before biblical times,' but with the arrival of European settlers, was so fervently discouraged in North America.

I am far too intrigued to discover whether my own soul is in need of assistance to pass up the opportunity of having this intermediary between the human and spirit realms tap into 'energies within my body using the ancient art if drumming to travel to other realities of the soul'.

She leads me down the stairs of her home where the fresh, friendly scent of Satsuma insence dispels any hint of hocus pocus.

Debbie Gibbs is an Airdrie gem. A woman who, even to my untrained supernatural eye, is surrounded by the most extraordinary aura. Engagingly, her voice coolly but commandingly explains the complexities of Shamanism, a theory that has the potential to provide a cynic with all the ammunition that they need to mock. 'To say you're a shaman is to be humble and totally let go of your ego' is her assertion and I find my own ego starting to dissipate as I lie on my side and have witness her calling the spirits from the all compass points as she drums.

I should feel nervous; I may discover that I am one of the unfortunate people who have part of my soul being kept captive as a result of any previous tumultuous events. Finding out that 'when we have soul losses, the person is often really having trouble out here' in the world, I feel somewhat appeased and pretty certain that Debbie won't have to negotiate to prise back my lost piece of soul. But what will she summarize? Will I have a spirit guide or an angel?

Who will that be because as much as I sure did love my great grandpa, he and his strict Irish ways very often frightened the bejesus out of me and I 'd really rather have my fun, dancing grandma keeping an eye on me. She'd approve of my hip-shaking zumba classes, you see.

Being with child, Debbie explains to me that she does not want to interfere with the optimum bodily vibrations emanating from a pregnant woman and so she sets down her home-made drum in favour of a tape of the rhythmic sound that is less imposing.

It is tranquil in that room. The beat of drumming is rhythmic and relaxing; I peep at Debbie through half closed eyes and feel almost ashamed that despite a large part of me truly desiring involvment in this journey, these eyes of mine seem adamant that they will play games and dance around the room at all of the weird and wonderful paraphernalia. Concentrate, Sian.

During this time I ponder over Debbie's admission that as a child and young adult she thought she 'was going crazy…that I was daydreaming' due to her intuitive abilities.

But if she sees angels, ancestors and animals whilst she does her little dance next to the ocean, rocks and sand that she describes to me before she meets with her guides, then I have to give Debbie her due: her imagination has got to be some kind of wonderful to daydream up these apparitions and I would give her a huge pat on the back just for that.

Lying there in her modest little room while she scribbles on her pad, this lady who outwardly seems like any normal mother of three with a household to run has far too much conviction in what she says.

It is absurd to think that thousands of years worth of generations around the globe have used Shamanism and been ostracized for it without their being any truth behind the theory. Her medicine name is 'The Woman of the Sacred Grove': it provides a description of who she truly is. She gives me my name 'Free flowing Dancer' I am puzzled but new name or not, I am overawed with what she discloses to me: it feels personal, emotional, private.

Debbie becomes a friend, no longer the subject of my curiosity and it matters not whether I will be mocked for 'buying into' what I am told.

Debbie Gibbs has 'brought me back to nature, to my spirit' and her statement that 'every experience you have is good, you can learn from everything' rings truer than ever before.

Source:

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