May 17, 2003

• A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY!

  
  

  
  

  The Adventures of Melody Andrewsdottir,
  Lady Shaman

  
  

  Episode I

  
  

  (Editor’s note:  Students of shamanism will be familiar with the concept of synchronicity, when things seem to coincide, but in reality are all bound together.  Recently I was browsing through the neighborhood dumpsters looking to augment my casual wardrobe when I came upon an odd wicker basket affair, which seemed to be stuffed with a roll of paper towels.  I dragged the whole thing home, thinking maybe I could burn the basket in the fireplace and recycle the paper towels.  Imagine my amazement when I discovered writing on the towels–I had discovered a Mysterious Manuscript.  This took place, by the way, when the moon was trine Scorpio, and Daylight Savings Time had just begun.  Following is a transcript of the MS–it may not be 100% accurate, as the MS was written in lipstick, which I later identified as Revlon #127, Kiss My Kudzu Coral.)

  
  

  When I look back over the last few years of my wonderful life, and how I went from being a modest Beverly Hills shopkeeper to being Melody Andrewsdottir, Lady Shaman and Healer to the Rich and Famous, I can only conclude that no one deserves it more.  Certainly not the jealous redskins who picket my workshops.  Anyway, it all started one day in my shop on Rodeo Drive, the only second-hand thrift shop in Beverly Hills.

  
  

  It was a slow business day–nearly three in the afternoon, and I had made only one sale, a small jar of Eric Severreid’s plaque.  That would pay the rent for the day, but just barely.  The market for periodontal memorabilia was soft.  Suddenly I noticed it.  Her, I mean.  Such presence had this individual, such charisma, such body odor, that I will never forget the thought which came to mind:  “What is this person, what does she want, and how do I get her the heck out of here before she scares off a paying customer?”

  
  

  She appeared to be an elderly Indian woman, although there was a certain youthfulness about her.  She was dressed in a style I later learned was endemic with Bushwa Indians–black hightopped Keds; ankle-length bowtie-dyed skirt; and a Boston Athletics t-shirt.  Her name, I would learn later, was Naomi Chortling Wolverine.  Her long flowing hair was tied back into a bun–a Sara Lee egg bagel, to be exact.

  
  

  “May I help you, madam?” I inquired, not without a bit of spleen.

  
  

  “Perhaps,” she replied with a touch of bile.”

  
  

  “Indeed,” I riposted, not without gall.”

  
  

  “Look, this is getting us nowhere,” she said urgently.  “We are running out of organ metaphors, we are halfway through the first page, and the plot is just barely getting off the ground.”

  
  

  Although I didn’t know what she was talking about, I immediately knew what she meant.  Although I lacked shamanic certainty, there was a certain something there which told me there might be other alignments and aspects and. . .

  
  

  “This is the deal,” she said, breaking into my internal monologue.  “The sacred wedding waffle iron must be returned to the Society of the Sow.”

  
  

  “Say what?” I replied.  Of course I knew about the sacred wedding waffle iron–what second hand dealer to the Rich and Famous didn’t?–the wedding gift from the Slaw of Cole to Jackie J on the occasion of her marriage to that geek…  uh, Greek!  Sorry Ari.  But this business of the Society of the Sow was beyond me.

  
  

  “The business of the Society of the Sow is beyond you at this time,” she said, amazingly.  “It is a world-wide network of powerful, enlightened, compassionate women–plus a few moody bitches, to be quite frank.  Our mission is this–to heal the planet, keep all the men from killing each other and us in the bargain, and to make sure that everyone brushes after every meal, and flosses–every day.”

  
  

  The world peace and all was one thing, but getting everyone to brush–and floss–every day?  It seemed hopeless.  “That is a tall ordure,” I said.

  
  

  TO BE CONTINUED:  Next issue, Melody meets the legendary Josephine Takaflying Leaphorn; learns of her adversary Mad Dog; learns the secret of the sacred wedding waffle iron; and much more.

  
  

  Melody first appeared in Volume Two, Number One of The Shaman Papers, Spring 1990.

  
  

  That issue also included:

  
  

  
  
  • a review of Amber Wolfe’s In the Shadow of the Shaman
    
  • Michael Harner on crystals and shamanism
    
  • Totem Notes by Flying Eagle
    
  • news of the discovery of an 8-foot, 17,000 lb. crystal
    
  • and a few quotes:

  
  

  “How glorious it is–and also how painful–to be an exception.”
  Alfred de Musset

  
  

  
  

  “It is characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”
  Henry David Thoreau

  • 5:26 pm
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