Sacred Stalker: Part One

September 4, 2017 | By More

Ian Prattis

Several decades ago I became aware that I had a stalker. I would glance over my shoulder and feel a distinct presence. The presence was a woman from the 18th century. This was made known to me by a shaman mentor – White Eagle Woman – who made it clear that I was mistaken. This was no stalker. The female entity from the past was a medicine woman from the American Southwest. She was trying to bring powerful medicine gifts through to me in the 21st century, but I had not learned how to release my logical and intellectual mind, and certainly did not possess the wisdom to receive. She had a name – Trailing Sky Six Feathers.

Over time my stubborn resistance was no match for her determination. I ultimately surrendered to this Muse. I wrote a book about our journey – Trailing Sky Six Feathers: One Man’s Journey with His Muse. I learned that I had died in her arms in 1777 and she swore to find me in the future to complete my purpose. Through her insistence I learned how to reconfigure my understanding of time, place and consciousness. She refused to give up on how dense I was and through her insistence, karma was reversed, the internal battles ceased and I learned to navigate past and present life experiences over four centuries.

The medicine gifts received from Trailing Sky during dream visions and shamanic journeys required that I nurture skills within me to use them wisely. I eventually remembered a clear mosaic of experiences stretching back to 1777. Past life memories collide head on with the present. The relentless shadowing by this Muse brought understanding and purpose to overcome the darkness of my past.

How did this all come about?

Many years ago when I was a young professor at Carleton University, I split my time between Ottawa and the Hebrides in Scotland. I was trying to create an academic career and at the same time save a failing marriage. I was not doing a good job with either. I had a boat – a 26 foot clinker built vessel with an inboard engine to enter the dangerous surrounding sea with tourists on board. I must have been really insane or totally desperate – perhaps both! One disastrous journey sears my mind. It was from Eriskay, to the north, back to my home on the Island of Barra. An unanticipated storm and dense fog quickly blew up to gale force winds. Disaster loomed from every option that was available to my mind. I stood braced at the wheel of this small craft with four tourists huddled on board. Fear was no longer guiding me, as I muttered the 23rd Psalm – “I shall not want.” I remember a terrible chilling silence come over me along with utter helplessness. The boat navigated through a narrow gap in an offshore rock spur, and the wheel spinned to avoid the sharp spine of another rock ledge.

I did not have that knowledge. I did not have that skill. They were not my hands on the wheel – something else had taken over as the boat slowly limped into the sheltered harbour after dark. I disembarked and walked to my house. I sat on the steps, as the storm ceased its fury and a crescent moon came out from the clouds. My reflections on the day were savage, yielding ugly truths I had long buried. I could take no credit for bringing the boat home safely. I thought of the furious sea as a piercing dirty grey, the colour of dying – just waiting for me. I knew I had to put an end to my recklessness on the sea and in life. This was not where I was to be; either in this relationship I was trying to save or the location. The stressful drain on time and energy to travel back and forth between Canada and the Hebrides was debilitating. It left me with zero energy for my life purpose. Instead I was choosing the graceless oblivion that alcohol and depression permit.

This essay is about what I felt when writing the Trailing Sky Six Feathers book which is available for an author autograph at www.ianprattis.com/TrailingSky.html

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Category: Articles, Spirituality & Meditation

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