Voices

Earlier this year, at Paganicon 2012, I offered to do something that ended up changing the inner workings of my head.  I blame my friend.

(Just kidding, honestly.  It’s not her fault.)

Here’s what happened: my friend Genevieve Wood was preparing to give a workshop on building religious foundations.  In addition to being the creator and founder of FlameKeeping, she’s frequently god-bothered…often with things that other people need to know.  It’s not unusual, for example, for deity to make itself known to someone by using her as a conduit.  However, god-speak is not conducive to getting other things done and so I offered to act as a middleman while she taught “just in case” it was needed.

“Just in case” became “Everyone Talk At Once, Please”.  My brain was overloaded with sensory input that felt, at first, like static but then resolved into clear images and thoughts that didn’t match my normal inner mental chatter.  It continued through the workshop on into my download of feedback to Genevieve afterwards and has never really stopped.  It made things interesting – the random comments I made that were clearly not me were insightful and also sometimes frightening.  I also had the most epic headache I’ve ever had…although I know part of that had to do with lack-of-grounding by the people around me.

(Yes, I didn’t set parameters around when it should end.  Stupid me.  Not that the PTBs would have necessarily listened.)

The upshot of this is that I now have commentary and direction on things that pops up when I least expect it.  It mostly happens in relation to things I am doing, or that Genevieve is doing – occasionally I get feedback for someone else, but not too often.  Add in the deity relationships I had prior to this momentous incident and, well, at times my head is really crowded.  I finally created the image of a tea strainer to fit in what I like to call “the hole” and, as needed, I stuff paper teabags into it to muffle the sound.  This keeps random nonsense babbling from coming through…well, most of the time, anyway.

Just call me a somewhat faulty Magic 8-Ball.  Please don’t shake my head – it’s shaken up enough already.

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