An Evening with Mac McCartney

 “Mac is an international speaker, (a TED talker too) writer and change maker. 

Mentored by indigenous people over many years, he has acquired profound and original insights into questions preoccupying many contemporary leaders. 

Mac seeks to inspire the emergence of the leader in each of us. 

The leader who will take courageous actions for a better world.”

This was taken from Mac’s website www.macmacartney.com so when Outrider Anthems announced a free talk by the guy himself I jumped at the chance!

First of all I’d like to bring attention to Outrider Anthems, a small but growing organisation in my home town of Reading. 

They dedicate themselves to artistic vision, imagination and conjuring magic in everyday spaces, my kind of people! 

Please check them out www.outrideranthems.com

Something they are doing now is ‘Festival of the Dark’, a year of festivities surrounding the deliciousness and fertility of the Sacred Dark. 

Mac’s talk, Reflections on Darkness, is a part of this festival.

I’m not going to quote him on his talk, I would do a disservice to his almost private talk. So instead I will try to convey what was said and what else I heard from my own spirit. (plus, I have a poor memory and can’t read all my notes)

Opening with the importance of dreaming got my ears pinned instantly. 

The unassuming and almost stoic man stood haloed by a beautiful art backdrop of the holy chalice in the chapel of St James Church. 

He spoke of three types of dreams, anxiety dreams, the usual ones we have, the dreams our subconscious mind creates as it tries to understand this so called human life. 

Then there are prophetic dreams, dreams we all have had, when something comes true. ESP, clairvoyant, psychic, they are either a prediction of the future or the present. 

Then there are almost Divine dreams, when God seems to talk to you, a dream that inspires you to change, to take action. 

I love this not just because I have always been a dreamer, but also because a huge part of my role as shaman is to dream our world into being, and teach others to do the same.

Sleep is important not only to dream but to also be held in stillness. 

We sleep in the dark, a wave of darkness shrouds us every twelve hours or so, and we collectively all sink into a state of unconscious bliss. 

In the darkness, we can dream. 

The world was created in a void of darkness. 

Life came out of the dark primordial waters of our mother earth. 

Seeds sit germinating in the dark, wet and tangled earth, waiting to be stirred by the light and warmth of the sun. 

We, humans, were all once upon a time, held in the dark, wet wombs of our mother. 

A fetus is sitting in the in-between, not really alive as we know it and yet not in the world of spirit it once knew. 

They are in a deep state of dreaming. 

Dreaming its world into being before it is even born. 

Tonight, as you lay in bed, feel the darkness around you, feel the safety and comfort of this night-blanket that enables us to enjoy the dark beauty of sleep, and the opportunity and privileged of dreaming; memories of your womb time.  

Mac spoke of his time in Colombia, working with the tribes and shamans there. 

Much of Colombia’s villagers have associations with the big drug lords, so life can be tough. 

When a woman of the tribe is pregnant, her baby is tested to see if the child will be a shaman, if the test is positive then she is taken away to the dark. 

Deep into the mountains she is taken, along a long tunnel at the mouth of a cave (I know this place well.) 

They travel deeper into the cave, the light disappearing slowly as darkness prevails. 

And there she waits to give birth. 

For seven years her and her baby live a beautiful and sacred life in the darkness. 

The child is trained and taught and played with. 

The only thing he hears is the soft murmurs of his select guardians, all he sees is shadows and darkness. 

The only smell is the cool damp rock and tastes, on purpose, only the blandest of foods. 

Loved, cherished and adored, they are asked to dream, dream their world into being. 

Trees, clouds, food, colour, mountains, the moon and stars, they dream them all. 

When they reach the age of seven, they are slowly taken out of the womb like cave of darkness, slowly they emerge into the slightest of light, down the birth canal of the cave tunnel. 

Imagine what that child must experience as he sees for the first time a shard of sunlight pouring from the mouth of the cave? 

Imagine what thought as he first heard the sound of birds singing and children playing in the fields? Imagine what he felt when he saw a tree for the first time, a forest, his mother’s face, his own hands. The colours of the world, the smell of the earth after the rain, the warm earth beneath his feet…It is said these children never recover, permanently in a state of awe and wonder. 

They never get over that first sight of our worlds beauty. It’s done this way because a shaman’s role in their community to remind them of the beauty in our world. 

I had tears as I listened to this story. Is this my responsibility too?

Mac gifted us three questions that we could choose to carry with us on our journey through life;

What is it you most deeply and profoundly love?

For me this speaks of not only love but of moral codes of conduct, our integrity, our truth, our journey itself.

What are your deepest and profound gifts?

I think this could also be, what is your dharma? 

What is it you love to do, what is it you do that no one else can do the way you do it, what can you share with the world, your community, your family, what is your service to humanity?

What are you deepest and profound responsibilities? This I feel is about your connection with the world, God. My responsibility is to my son, my husband. 

But we can also choose to widen our responsibility, I can choose to be responsible to all those I touch with my work. 

To remind others of the beauty in our world…

Mac spoke of something about being a leader, about being in right relationship with the world and God, with an alignment with your heart and mind, being in the here and now. 

For us in our tradition of the Inca, this is called Ayni. 

When we live our truth with integrity being wholly who you are, we become leaders. 

Only then can we say, despite what is happening right now in the world, in my life, I choose to do what I love, speak my truth, and live each moment, each day throughout my life knowing I lived well.

Mac left us with an exquisite insight. 

It was about eight in the evening, the darkness of spring was shrouding us, and he said these words;

At this moment, there is a wave of bird song, a dawn chorus, hurtling towards us at great speed, as the sun chases the darkness away.

Our Lady of the Serpents

It was in the winter of 1531 that a 57-year-old Juan Diego heard strange music coming from the once sacred hill of Tepeyac. He walked up the hill and was greeted by a woman of his own Aztec heritage. She introduced herself as Mary, mother of God. 

She told him that she wanted him to build a church on top of the hill, and urged him to speak to the Bishop. Juan left and demanded that he is greeted by the Bishop of the New Church of Tenochtitlan, Juan de Zumarraga. 

The Bishop was understandably sceptical, and asked for more proof, a sign, maybe, that she truly was the Holy Mary, mother of God. Eagerly, he ran back to the hill and prayed to the Virgin Mary that she would appear again to him once more. 

She did appear, this time she told him, (in his language, Nahwatl) that her name was Coatlaxopeuh.

She showed him a garden of roses, which do not bloom in winter, a miracle by any means. 

She told him to collect them up and show the Bishop the rose buds, she even helped him arrange the roses in his tilma, his modest cloak. 

When he arrived at the New Church, he blurted out her name, the Bishop, due to nahwatl pronunciation, heard Guadalupe. 

Juan emptied his tilma of roses, letting them spill across the floor, but the Bishop did not fall to his knees in disbelief because of un-seasonal rose buds, but the imprinted image of Our Lady Guadalupe on his tilma.

A church was built on the sacred hill of Tepeyac.

Eight million descendants of the Aztecs converted to Catholicism.

The tilma is still held, after all this time, in the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. 

It is made of cactus fibres and in 500 years it still hasn’t disintegrated. 

No paint was used. 

The eyes of the image reflect those of the clergy and those of Aztec heritage. 

Even more fascinating is that the star constellations on her dress are exactly what you would have seen if you were in Mexico in 1531.

But, Our Lady has another identity. 

She is Coatlicue, ‘Skirt of Serpents.’ She is Tonantzin, ‘Our Mother.’ She is Cozcamiyawh, ‘Corn Tasselled Necklace.’ She is Cihuacoatl, ‘Snake Woman.’ 

And she is also Coatlalopeuh, ‘She who has Dominion over the Snakes.’

Earth Goddess, Mother Most High. Patron of Serpents. Pachamama.

In the Image above, you can see that her cloak is midnight blue, and adorned with stars.
Coatlicue’s son Huitzilpochtli created the stars from his dead brothers.

She stands on a dark crescent moon, held by a child. Coatlicue’s son created the moon from his sisters severed head.

Behind her, shines the rays of the sun. Coatlicue’s son is the God of the Sun.

She wears a black sash around her waist. Coatlicue wore a black sash around her waist as did many Aztec woman during pregnancy and childbirth.

Her tunic even shows the sinewy lines of the image of Coatlicue.

I love the Holy Virgin Mary, and I also love Coatlicue, the primordial Goddess of all things wet, dark and tangled. 

This is why Our Lady Guadalupe is so special to me.

Elders tell us that she has been holding the Divine Feminine energy within her heart, until such a time that the decedents of the Mexica set aside the beliefs imposed upon them by the Spaniards, and bring forth into the light of the sun, the ancestral teachings, and the restoration of woman’s place of honour in the community.

This speaks volumes to me, not just for the feminist principles, but for bringing Her back. 

Bringing back the Divine Feminine within our culture and community and spirituality. 

It means acknowledging the presence of the female face of God as Mother, Divine Creator and nourisher of All, as pure creational potential and the feminine energy of flow and movement.

Already the ancient teachings of the Americas have been brought forth into the light, we shaman and mesa carriers have these teachings, I have these teachings within me, and I willingly share them with you.

All religions have a hidden, or not-so-hidden, female face of God; you just have to search for Her. The best place to search for her, is within your own hearts. 

Embrace her, for She will embrace you, and She will give you back your power and your grace that She has been lovingly holding for you.

The twelfth of December is The Feast of Our Lady Guadalupe, light a candle for her, embrace her, for she carries within her womb your gold.

Frohlichen Krampusnacht!!

Tuesday the 6^th December is the Feast of Saint Nicholas. He was a Christian Saint and a Greek Bishop of Myra. He was known as Nikolaos the Wonderworker, and has since been used as the model for our modern-day Father Christmas, Old St Nick, Santa Clause. He has many names, he is also known as the Holly King, the Green Man, The Shaman, and even Odin. He rewards the good and well-behaved children of Christendom with gifts and trinkets and sweet delights on Christ’s Mass Eve.

But did you know, like all of us, he has a shadow? He, like me and thee, has a shadow self too. What would Jolly Ole Father Christmas’s shadow look like? What could possibly be a contrasting image of Santa?

Are you sitting comfortably? Are the lights on nice and bright? Are your loved ones near? Then I shall tell you.

He has no shiny, buckled, black boots that tread through the snow, but cloven hooves that clip and clop. No red coat dons this man, but a tangled mass of dark fur. He does not wear a red hat, (and if he did, it would probably be the foulest blood red) instead, two great goat horns curl and twist. Does he say “Ho, Ho, Ho?” Oh no, no, no, he couldn’t possibly, not with those fangs and that long, long red tongue. What about a sack full of toys? I hear you ask, he carries a sack, or sometimes a basket, over his shoulder, but it doesn’t contain toys, only children. He holds, not the reigns of a beautiful sleigh, but chains that attach him to the devil.

On the 5^th December, the part goat, part demon Krampus punishes the naughty children, whipping them with his ruten branches. Or gifting coal instead of toys, ruten bundles instead of sweet nectarines. 

On the eve of The Feast of Saint Nicholas he gifts an early Christmas present to those who have been exceptionally good. But, God help ye merry children if you have been very, very bad. If you have been wicked, then he will take you away leaving a log of wood in your image behind while you are taken to his lair. Maybe he will make you work for him or maybe he will devour you. Or maybe he will drown you the fiery pits of hell.

For me, the Krampus represents the naughty side of this season, Christmas in all it's gory glory. It is the time that the birth of the Holy Sun of God is born, in many ancient paths, not just Christian. And as wholesome and holy as this season is, there is a sombre side to this season too. There is loneliness and bitter sweet memories, there is greed and over indulgence. There is consumerism and debt, there is chocolate, alcohol and burning loins. Families argue and fight, office parties end in shame and guilt, and the streets are littered with drunks wearing sexy Santa outfits.

As advent begins, Saint Nick sits on one shoulder, and Krampus sits on the other, whispering sweet nothings in our ears. I have a soft spot for the Krampus, he has been commercialised into a jolly and slightly satanic Christmas figure, and there is a growing number within the anti-Christmas community, who use the 'bar humbugginess' of Krampusnacht to celebrate something less-than-Holy.

Last year I accidentally celebrated Krampusnacht with my son. He was ill during the last week of November and as he was feeling better and as he had been exceptionally good all week, we decided to gift him an early Christmas present on the night of the 5th December. Later that night I found out it was Krampusnacht.

So, to all my kith and kin, have a cheeky chocolate, or a snifter of rum, watch an X-rated movie or simply snuggle up with your Shnookums or your Snugglybum.

Like everything in life, it’s about balance and moderation, holding the two polarities of life in balance in each hand, so you can be the stillness in the centre.

Be both the bright and the dark, the light and the shadow, the oak and the holly, Santa and Krampus.

Merry Krampusnacht 

The Bearded Shaman