There is no perfect way to select godparents when entering any African Traditional Religion. But I am a keen observer, a student of the University of Hard Knocks, and, since the idea of this blog is to share lessons learned from all sort of spiritual practices, here are my two cents on how to select outstanding godparents.
When a religion become a commodity, the truly devoted tend to suffer. I have seen over and over again how people that come with a true calling to be part of the Orisha community are let down by unscrupulous iyaloshas and babaloshas (mothers and fathers of the orisha). Neophytes are rushed through stages, intimidated and even coerced to receive initiations that can simply wait, because everything, everything is a process.
Long time ago, I took the time to type some of this material on an e-mail for a person looking for an Ilé Orisha (House of Orisha). Ever since, when someone approaches me for information on initiation, I dust my old e-mail and press foward. Continue reading “How to Select Outstanding Godparents”
This post contains an atypical operation in the world of traditional spiritism which is my normal practice and point of view, but spirit, as it binds and moves us all, has no boundaries. Therefore, there are times when situations dictate the use of creative application of techniques.
Nightmares are not frequent for me. But I woke up truly frightened from this one. Fear is the mind killer, but I have ways to settle fears quickly and effectively when it comes to spooky moments.
In my nightmare I was waiting to be served at a fast food place, chatting up with a friend when suddenly the attendant steps out whimpering and saying, “It hurts, it hurts.” At first I thought she had burned herself, but no. She sat on the floor and then I was shocked. I could see thin likes appearing in her arms, lines that started to swell and bleed in front of my eyes, they looked like scratches…scratches made by small hands. They continued to appear right there. Suddently I pulled out a digital camera from my purse and I started to take photos and out of anger and dispair I shouted: “Show yourself you bastard!”. That is when I lost it.