Writing Creatively With Spirit

A journey of psychic discovery

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Countdown to Cameroon – 18 days to go

Saturday 31st August

Already it’s the last day of August and my journey is becoming more real. I have little flashes of excitement but I know more of that will kick in once I’ve completed all the paperwork.

I posted my visa application on Thursday afternoon, so theoretically it should be ready for collection on Tuesday. I haven’t decided which day to go down to London yet.

Next week will be shopping for the essentials such as wellington boots and a mosquito net. I think I’m going to need a bigger case than the one I usually travel with.

I’ve started getting my audio visual equipment together but I need to do a couple of practice runs with video blogging. I may have a go tomorrow.

I have to confess to being fascinated by the book on IBOGA – The Visionary Root of African Shamanism. Maybe my preparation would be a bit further on if all my spare time wasn’t spent with my head in the book.

Somehow it feels more important that I learn about the properties and effects of this power plant than about the geography and customs of Cameroon. (I guess in learning about Iboga I’m indirectly learning about the customs and beliefs of Cameroon).


Session 42 – Time for pastures new

29th August 2013 (Thursday)

PICT2188It’s been five weeks since I last went to circle. This is because I’ve been focusing on publishing Never on Sunday and also I been doing more shamanic work. I’ve been journeying most days and gaining amazing guidance. I will write up some of the more profound ones. Time is a factor at the moment as I’m preparing for Cameroon and trying to edit Love is Not a Reward.

There were eight of us at circle, five women and three men (including Greg). Of the eight of us three were new, at the start of their journeys and very excited my cards and the prospect of trying out psychometry and working with other tools.

After the relaxation meditation we focused on getting messages for each other. I got a message for one of the women.

I saw a toilet brush. The handle was the carved head of a horse. As it wasn’t obvious to me what the message was I asked, ‘what is it I need to tell her?’

‘That she needs to make a decision about how she’s going to handle the crap that’s in her life at the moment.’

It made sense to her, and was supported by the messages she got from others.

I’ve been thinking for some time that I’m getting more out of the shamanic journeying than out of these sessions and it was reinforced tonight.

Ribbon carousel

Ribbon carousel

I realise that these sessions were my introduction to a systematic way of connecting with spirit. The messages I received week after week gradually shifted me to this position. I recall too that it was here that shamanism was first mentioned to me and how resistive I was to the idea then.

I will of course be visiting Oak House from time to time for Sunday service, and to connect with some of the wonderful people who shared this part of my journey.

I know that Mary’s follows this blog, so she will be able to keep tabs on my goings on. Thanks for your blessings Mary.

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Countdown to Cameroon – 21 days to go

I’m still waiting for an official bank statement to add to the visa application. If it doesn’t arrive tomorrow I’m going go to have to go to plan B and get one printed off at the bank and stamped. (Wish I’d done that anyway).

I’m just at the start of the 3 weeks Original Volunteers recommended for putting in the application so things should be OK.

I’ve had to put some of the preparations on hold while I managed the process for publishing Never on Sunday on Amazon. Now available as an ebook.

I’m also still trying to edit Love is Not a Reward. It looks unlikely that I’ll have it finished before I leave for Cameroon, but never say never!

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Countdown to Cameroon – 23 days to go – Iboga

25th August 2013

Iboga - The Visionary Root of African Shamanism

Iboga – The Visionary Root of African Shamanism

The more I’ve researched shamanism the more I’ve come to realise that each area has its own power plant. A power plant is one used in ceremonies to alter states of consciousness and helps to speed up the healing process. Having read a book on ayahausca, the power plant of Amazonian shamans, I wondered what the African shamans use. A quick look on Google revealed Iboga, used primarily in Gabon and Cameroon.

I ordered a book which arrived on Friday, and I’ve had my head stuck in it ever since. Iboga – The Visionary Root of African Shamanism is translated from French so is not as easy a read as Malidoma Some’s books, but it’s full of interesting facts about iboga’s origin and how it’s used with modern initiates.

It also has a substance, iborgaine, which has been proved to break powerful drug addictions. It’s effective even with long term heroin and cocaine addictions. As a consciousness altering substance iboga ‘opens areas of perception that are usually closed.’

New career as drummer?

New career as drummer?

However, in the early afternoon I took a break to go to the food market at Cannon Hill Park. Despite the park being taken over by EID celebrations there were a group of drummers who meet every Sunday in the park to play.

They invited me to join them. I did for a few minutes. On the way back I stayed for longer, sharing a hammock with the guy on the left while he told me how to feel the drum beat, how to experience them till they become a part of me. Told him I’ve felt that from time to time.

Not exactly what I’d planned when I left home. Sorry I couldn’t get a picture of me and him in the hammock laying head to toe like old friends (or new lovers).

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Countdown to Cameroon – 25 days to go – yellow fever jabbed

23rd August 2013

Yellow Fever Certificate

Yellow Fever Certificate

The saga began a few weeks ago when I made an initial booking for the vaccine at a travel clinic near me. They were charging £52.00. I later found it cheaper at my own GP clinic for £50.00 and booked to have it today. I arrived in good time and was duly called in by the nurse.

‘Where are you travelling to?’ she asked.

‘Cameroon.’ I replied not even attempting to hide the excitement in my voice.

She smiled politely as she looked up my destination on her screen.

‘Are you having the other vaccines as well?’ she enquired, obviously noticing that Typhoid, Tetanus and Hepatitis B are also recommended.

‘No.’ I answered and hoped she’d move on.

‘Have you had them done somewhere else?’ she persisted.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I evaded, ‘I don’t think I need them.’

‘What if you get these diseases?’ She was not letting it drop.

‘I have a lot of faith.’ I offered.

‘And you think faith will protect you?’ It was a cross between a sneer and incredulity.

I held my arms open. ‘It seems to be doing alright so far. Look at me. There’s nothing wrong with me,’ I declared.

‘OK then. If that’s what you want.’ She said in a voice that left me in do doubt she considered me foolish.

‘Are you aware you have to pay for the vaccine?’ she was more business-like again.


‘Fifty-five pounds.’

‘I was told it was fifty.’ I challenged.

Without looking up from typing she replied, ‘Well, if that’s what they told you.’

She then disappeared into another room and came back with a small phial and needle.

‘Where on my body?’ I asked.

‘On your arm.’

‘Anyone in particular.’


When the syringe was full she came toward me bearing a small bowl of cotton wool balls. She used one of them to rub a small patch on my arm, and with a pin-prick later it was all over.

‘Please pay at reception while I write up your certificate,’ she instructed me.

I was relieved she didn’t mention Malaria tablets.

‘I’ve come to pay for my yellow fever vaccine,’ I said to one of the busy receptionists.’

‘That will be £11.40’ she said.

‘What! I thought it was £50.’ My turn to be incredulous.

‘Oh, yellow fever. Yes, you’re right. It’s £50.’

The nurse returned with my certificate and asked me to sign it. I noticed it was valid for 5 years. When I queried this she said that how long they’re valid for.

‘But I thought the vaccine was valid for 10 years?’

‘I know,’ she did a little shrug as if to say ‘that’s how it is.’

‘But that’s crazy!’ I protested. ‘Does that mean that if I want to travel again in six year’s time I have to come back and pay for another one of these even though the vaccine is active for ten years?’

‘Just one minute,’ she said walking away.

She returned with a pen, changed the 5 to a 10, wrote ‘Ten Years’ in letters and handed me back the certificate.

I was flabbergasted! What kind of system is being operated here? Why are there varying prices for the same vaccine and how can 5 years be so easily changed to 10. And shouldn’t it have been ten years in the first place? What if I didn’t know to ask? And what if I hadn’t protested?

Has anyone else encountered this?