Living Impeccably

Written by Shaman Elder Maggie Wahls


The key to living in this world as a healer is to incorporate our skills and disciplines into our hearts inrepparttar most impeccable way possible. It is not enough to have knowledge or good intentions. The Shaman strives constantly to berepparttar 122910 most disciplined andrepparttar 122911 highest skilled hunter he can be. He is not concerned with his own life, obsessed with any outcome, or allowing himself to give power away to anyone or anything. It is inrepparttar 122912 control and direction of his power that he hones his skills to become an impeccable hunter inrepparttar 122913 forest.

A Shaman is a warrior, a hunter. He is on his highest alert, fully prepared, moving deliberately with his intention held firmly in place inrepparttar 122914 forefront of his mind. He is ready for anything, being emotionally centered although feelingrepparttar 122915 excitement ofrepparttar 122916 hunt andrepparttar 122917 anticipation ofrepparttar 122918 successful outcome. No one could sneak up on a good hunter. It is he who is doingrepparttar 122919 stalking.

The hunter knows his skills, has practiced a long time, and knows where to look forrepparttar 122920 game he needs. A hunter has heightened his senses so he can smellrepparttar 122921 wind and see in low light. He knows a bear or wolf can attack him at anytime so he does his very best every minute. To do less may mean his death.

What causesrepparttar 122922 Shaman to seek impeccability? The Shaman knows that death walks with him on his left side close enough to reach out and touch him at any moment. It is in this understanding that all we have is today, right now, to berepparttar 122923 best we can be, that we are called to be constantly walkingrepparttar 122924 path of impeccability. When one’s mortality is always a present thought we begin to see our lives with different eyes. Ask anyone suffering from a terminal disease and they will tell you how precious it is to watch a sunrise, to see a child sleeping, to hug your dog. We learn to washrepparttar 122925 dishes as though it isrepparttar 122926 last time we may ever washrepparttar 122927 dishes. It becomes a ceremony, an act of love and a joy to perform. Death becomes a friend, an ally, a guide to what is most important right now in our lives, what we most need to do and be and say to those we love. There is no time to wait until tomorrow.

When we observe our own mortality we see that it does not matter if we are kings or paupers, rich or poor, famous or unknown. These things have nothing to do with our true selves. The hunter does not sit inrepparttar 122928 forest and shout out his importance torepparttar 122929 trees. He is a hunter, like so many hunters who have gone to this forest before him to accomplishrepparttar 122930 same goal. He thinks of his brothers and sisters and is honored to sit with them in spirit and share their experience. With a sense of one’s own mortality there comes a sense of humility natural for anyone realizingrepparttar 122931 larger picture of all of life. It is not about standing taller than those who came before. If we only have today, would we not want to berepparttar 122932 best we can be today?

What Do You Want for Christmas?

Written by Maureen Killoran


Headphones to grant me some private space . . . tickets to some far-off exotic place . . .

What do you want for Christmas?

Clothing to dress me to paintrepparttar town red . . . silk sheets to wrap me when I go to bed . . .

What do you want for Christmas?

Harry Potter’s a good one . . .repparttar 122909 kids will go wild . . . And I love him too, ‘cause I’m really a child . . .

What do you want for Christmas?

There’s camera equipment, that’s sure to appeal . . . there’s software galore at really good deals . . .

What do you want for Christmas?

I look in my closets, I look at my house, there’s nothing I need, . . . no, not even a mouse . . .

What do you want for Christmas?

Would it matter, I wonder, if there underrepparttar 122910 tree, was a wee tiny package all wrapped up for me, and when opened, ‘twas empty, no present I’d see . . . just a feeling of peace and . . . serenity.

What do you want for Christmas?


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