I’ve been Psychopomping my whole life. Before I knew anything about it, I was doing it. I know I’m not the only one out there. And my thought is most of us learned to keep it to ourselves. Maybe it’s time to find each other and start telling our magical stories. Ya’ know the ones...that either never left our lips or only told a precious, trusted few in hushed tones and quaking vocals….praying and hoping that we wouldn’t be abandoned for what we know to be true.
I don’t remember much from early childhood. I have flashes here and there, but my first main memory is being in 2nd grade and my Dad taking me out of class to tell me and my brother that his Dad had just died. I knew that meant we would no longer see him and he would no longer be here. I knew that my parents and community all said he’d be in Heaven. I was so confused because I saw him at his funeral…”how could he be in Heaven when we is right there?” I saw him at the family gathering after. He sat crossed legged on the floor...smiling at everyone’s laughter and tears as the stories rolled off tongues. I was confused because he was so quiet and that wasn’t like him. I was a bit afraid because he looked different and I couldn’t touch him when I sat next to him on the floor. He looked at me...said nothing...and for several days, neither did I.
Eventually I made the mistake of asking a parent for clarification. It’s hard for a 7 year old to hear they are evil.
Flash forward 15 or so years and I’m a wee lil’ witchling who is actively seeking and feeling the energies of Life (which can’t exist without the energy of death, BTW). I came out of the broom closet to my Grandma and she surprised me with her accepting and non-judgmental reaction. She asked if I would contact my Grandfather…she said “He has something to say to me”. I went to his shed, took a tool of his and told her I would get back to her after Samhain. Long story short, he gave me a message I didn’t want to pass on and I saw things about his life I didn’t want to see. After that, a door open and he walked through it. When I reluctantly told my Grams the message, 2 quick and easy tears fell from her broken face and she said “that fucker (first time I ever heard my Grams cuss!)...this doesn’t surprise me”. She didn’t say much about his betrayals, but they confirmed what I saw in the journey. It’s interesting to note she did start feeling more and living again after that day. I learned here not all closure from spirit come in peace or love, but the ugly, painful truth can bring the freedom that creates closure. I learned that sometimes Psychopomp is as simple as listening, witnessing, and knowing the cross occured.
Flash back to 10,11,12? I lived for hunting seasons, wood getting days, helping Dad on his weekend and summer logging jobs, morel hunting, huckleberry picking...anything that got me into the woods because that was where I felt the safety of “mother”. Anyway...this could have even been when I was younger. I honestly don’t know. I know it was before I was old enough to get my own tag and hunt to kill. I can’t remember who shot the buck, but I watched his spirit leave his body. He saw me see him and did a double take with surprise, so he seemed to float his way over to me and we held “hands” as he told me of his life. I cried. The buck said “thanks for listening” and ran off into the sun. I remember FEELING the moment his energy was no longer Earth-side. I feel it again telling you this story. Due to my previous shaming about being evil, I, of course, kept this to myself. This experience opened up my vision though...after this, I began to see energy fields around certain living things, my dreams got real vivid and premonition-y, and I just had more umph to knowing what I felt.
Flash forward to my mid to late 20’s. I was a metaphysical whore back then...putting myself out in all directions for a way to understand what I am so I could maybe understand who I am. (that last sentence is a whole life story in and of itself!) Mediumship classes and my witchcraft studies gave me tremendous framing that I was not actually evil and that was priceless. Yoga training, herbal exploration, energy systems research filled my realm with liberating possibilities and free-thinking whirlwinds that would last for days and leave me having my own truths.
It wasn’t until my 30’s when I began shamanic studies and heard the term Psychopomp. It was then I actually claimed it. This is what I’ve been doing my whole life. This is a part of WHO I AM. That one word just quaked my bones so I could just step into it like a spirit coming into a body to live. And, I’m embarrassed to say...but I own my shit around here...I still kept my abilities quiet. Even though I had found the language to say it. Even though I finally had a place that acknowledged this something exists and I’m a part of it. Even though I had people to talk to about it...I kept it to myself. Those childhood imprints of evil run deep and it’s only been the last 5 years that I’ve come out of the Psychopomp closet. It has taken a shit ton of self-development to stand in this truth and be a okay with it being judged by those who do not desire to understand. So, until recently, even though I could have been more out there in my Psychopomping, I kept it to my hunting rituals, and private mentoring sessions, and everyday waking life. Like that one time…
That one time the hubbs, the kid, the dogs and I were checking out an old abandoned sternwheeler that still floats on the mighty Columbia river. I was a fresh 30 years old. There is a patch of trees you have to walk through to get there. On our way back to the car, I was made frozen. Physically frozen. I couldn’t move. I had walked into a psychic imprint of a murder there. I was taken to that time in a vision as I stood stiff on the ground it happened on. By the clothing, it appeared to be the early 1900’s. A man was being beaten to death by several men. I went to him in the vision and tried to help him get out of there and create a different outcome for himself. He said “no...no...I deserve this. I betrayed and harmed these men. You have to let this play out the way it happened, it’s the right thing to do. Do not change my story until I’m dead.” When the vision got to the point where his spirit left his body, his spirit was glowing. He came over to me, gave me a hug and said, this is the change to my story I’ve been waiting for”. And then the trees’ roots took his spirit into the Earth. At which point I began to see that I was in the “here and now” of my life. Everything was fuzzy. My big brown boxer boy, Gixxer, was digging into the dirt at my feet. The hubbs was yelling at Gix to stop and asking me with a strained voice “what’s the matter”? I saw his muggle “what the fuck” look on his face...and I don’t remember exactly what I said but it was something to the effect of “psyhic imprint of a murder...it’s fine now”. And since this wasn’t his first witch-fest of Nissa, he exhaled. No more explanation needed. He just wants to know I’m okay, but the way Gix was acting and with me non-responsive...his muggle mind just couldn’t process. Bless his heart. Shout out to the hubbs for being okay with who I am, even though it’s way beyond anything he even wants to know about. I learned here that thresholds and veils that spirits cross over can be anything. I learned this day that trees are Earth element Psychopomps. I learned that those I live with most of my life don’t think I’m evil, so stop obsessing over the short 17 years of living with people who do.
I could tell you story after story, because I have SOOOO many. But I gotta keep something for my course! Oh...there are those times...when I had to put this sweet fawn out of her misery from being hit by a car...ooof, that was still makes me cry. Or the dragonfly that asked to have his head smashed so it could be over. Or that one time when my cat came to me in the shower to tell me not to worry, he just died. Or that time I drummed my sweet boxer girl Vixen out of her body as she died in vet’s work station. Or that time my daughter’s friend was murdered by her mother and she came to me to get help in crossing over. Point is. Psychopomp is a thing. It’s more important that you realize. We will dive deep into all this and more in my Psychopomp circle...which is actually a course but in sacred space of a circle because this topic is meant to make you feel and that means vulnerability gets fiercly protected. #mamabear
Psychopomp is something someone does...or a part of who someone is (like me). It’s more important than the world realizes. Psychopomps walk around with the veil thin all the fucking time! Ya’ know how you smudge yourself to keep your energy clean and moving after it’s been neutralized? Psychopomps are like smudge for the Earth. We clean up unfinished business and move the energy after neutralizing the gunk. For the last 5 years or so I’ve noticed an increase of people around me doing death doula training and my thought is all death doulas are Psychopomps, but not all death doulas Psychopomp. Did you get what I did there? AND...this increase in death doula interest get me SOOOOOOO excited. More and more people are searching for an engagement with death. As a huntress,I have felt engaged with death in a way that only hunters will understand. I feel more engaged with, and enlivened by death because I have taken life. This is still a pained and breathtaking mystery to me and I hope it never stops being so. Anyway, I’m trying to say how I love the trending direction of people wanting to get good with death and my Psychopomp circle will be a valuable complement to any space that death is being explored.
Please share this article. Repost one of my Psychopomp Instagram posts. This is a valuable skill for anyone who sees with more than their ocular system and feels more than they know what to do with. Speaking of...for those who do feel more than they know what to do with, I observe that it doesn't benefit you or anyone else to flow around it...this course will offer you the place to build the muscle of feeling the uncomfortable feel, power up to face it, engage and learn from it, build your trust in Self, magic and inner resilience, alchemize it, and change the energy that is need of change. Please join me. You are worth it. Bring a friend or 3. It’s time to end some stories in medicine and be of service to life and death.