Rain - Making

On Saturday afternoon, March 6, 2010, I scheduled a book signing followed by a mini-workshop at a local bookstore called Kona Stories here in Kainaliu (in south Kona.) This event occurred in response to the release of my new literary endeavor—Awakening to the Spirit World—co-authored with my old friend and shamanic colleague Sandra Ingerman.

The book sale sold out virtually every copy they had in stock, and in the process, Jill and I discussed what we might do with the workshop group that followed, drawing upon the book to bring forth some of its shared wisdom. As we talked, both of us were much aware that our district of South Kona on Hawaii Island has been in a severe drought all this year, and the land and the trees are in dire need of water.

Accordingly, we decided to draw on the chapter in ‘Awakening’ that deals with working with the weather and environmental changes (and yes, there is such a chapter,) so after a discussion about the modern shaman and the nature of their practice with the workshop group, I got out the drum and gave a brief overview of shamanic journeywork and how it works.

At the journey’s beginning, it was our suggestion that each of us would listen to the drum, eyes closed, and as the deep shamanic meditative state came on in response, each of us would journey to a place here on island where we feel connected, at ease and empowered. For many it was the place where they live.

Once there, each was to make a prayer to the great Hawaiian deity Lono, the transpersonal force (being) associated with agriculture, with healing, and with navigation and science. Lono is also the keeper of the winds and the bringer of rain. Surprisingly, most in the workshop were unaware of this.

After settling in to our place, each of us would then focus on the great rainmaker—Lono—through prayer—‘pule’ in Hawaiian—and ask this transformational being to bring rain to nurture our dry land.

During this ritual, each was to perceive themselves sitting in meditation in that place sacred to them here on island… and each was ‘to remember’ rain in this place. This means that each was to attempt to see the clouds gathering above this place, to smell the moisture building in the air, to feel the first fine drops on their skin, to hear the force of the rain coming through the trees, and finally they were to experience themselves under shelter or not, in the midst of the rain as it pummeled down, drenching and sustaining the land with the water of life.

That was it. We held the journey constant for 20 minutes of so, then brought everyone back. We discussed what we had perceived, sharing our journeys with each other, and then we dispersed, confident that having made ‘rain-magic,’ Lono would respond.

Some got a sprinkle where they lived that very evening, and within a day, we all received a deep driving tropical rain, the gutters on our roof edges overflowing as Lono responded to our prayer. Many have emailed us with amazement and this good news. All are quite impressed, and grateful I think.

Yet in sharing this with you, the reader, allow me to observe that this was not about ‘me’ the author and shamanic practitioner flexing my spiritual muscle. This ritual was about ‘we’… about all of us in connection working together.

We did this as an interconnected group, and with the assistance and support of the transpersonal force known here in the islands as Lono, the land and our souls have been refreshed.

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