There’s something about listening to Commodo after a shamanic healing journey that just feels right.
I’m taking soul inventory, seeing what’s laying in the back of the psyco-pantry collecting dust and growing worms. I grab hold of it during the journey, and when the shaman brings me back with her drum, I’m left with arms full of these things, using the fabric of dress to carry it all.
I’ve arrived back in my body, I voice my blessings and offer my gratitude to the center of the circle. Then I go to the park with my busted mdr7506 headphones, and turn this track on.
I let go of my dress, carrying all the extra baggage. Jars and boxes hit the floor and bust open as the little meal worms scamper away from the flying cans of soul-soup and mental minute rice.
I dance and my body sways like a broom sweeping out the dust cluster remnants in the cupboard. Some parts of the song feel like big buckets of warm water splashing for a thorough clean.
The track comes to a close and the walls of my cupboards are left sparkling clean, smelling of fresh peppermint oil and stocked with a bounty of tropical fruits that just fell from the trees I climbed throughout the journey prior. I picked some stars from the sky when atop the tree, and kept them in a jar next to the mangosteen and whispering coconuts.
The coconuts are telling me they don’t belong here, and that if I wanted them, I’d have to return to a land where they fell free and weren’t ripped up and pushed into bottles to be sold at whole foods. I listen, and whisper back that I’ve got some work to do before I return.
I pick up one of the stars humming in their little jar and put it in the pocket over my heart before I sharpen my knives and strap on my boots for another day at work in the kitchen.
My cupboard is left open with a crack of sunlight coming through, stroking the fruit in oscillations as clouds pass by. I return from work to find my fruit asleep, and I feel sleepy too. My little star is still awake, and wants to tell me something. I can’t hear her over the beating of my heart.
I remove my boots, put down my knife roll, peel off my clothes, place the star in a clay dish next to the tub and shower off the spices & oil collected on my skin from work. I finally emerge from a cloud of lavender and geranium vapor, dry myself with my mother mary cloth, carry the glowing star to my dark room, press it into the space between my eyes, and fall asleep.