I want to journey you a story...

Were you a +‘Listen/Watch with Mother fan? Did you then progress to Jackanory on television after school?

There was always a set time for a story, and we would all eagerly await the radio coming out of the cupboard or the walk to the TV room, wondering in hushed tones what the story would be as we made the journey along the corridor anticipating where we would ‘go’ today.

Teachers must have loved it, the only time when the average classroom of thirty boys and girls became one quiet, attentive and enthused body, all at once. Experiencing trance journey and multi level learning by living it. Allowing it to happen due to the safe environment they were in, and retelling the story of their journey to their parents when they got home.

Jacked in to the Universe, the story a scart lead connection to the mainframe of the void, where the unconscious mind downloads information by the mega bite. Boys and girls in a journeying trance, enraptured, enthralled, engaged, being in the story, real time. Get the picture?

The power of metaphor bridging the generational gap and more; we tell our lives through stories.
If we look more closely from our new perspective, as adults, and take one story, you know, the one with the wolf who has the big eyes and the little girl with the grandma who may well be tougher than she looks, and take it in the context of a Shamanic journey, what new lessons would we learn? What if we could take that idea and apply it to other journeys that we take in life? Would we not then have a better idea what stories we would like to tell? When we would like to tell them and how they would better benefit both the teller and the listener; because you know we listen to every tale we tell. What if we could make our story better, truer, like another little girl who found the one that was ‘just right’ or so she thought at the time?

When we journey for people who come to us for help, they tell us their story, we then bring them back another story that they will connect to so that they may continue their journey towards a happy ever after. Not everyone gets there, we know this, but the meat in the middle holds the beginning and the end of a story together; it is always the journey, not the journeys end that our seekers are striving to understand.

As Shamen we tell our truth, we tell our story, your story, his – tory. We find wisdom and learning in places that others have forgotten they’ve been. The warp and weft of the tale makes a rich tapestry that we weave as we go.

So let’s explore this one story of a little girl’s journey through life, she is after all a warrior just like us. Let’s re tell her tale and find out things we perhaps forgot we knew by seeing them through Shamens eyes, and then as we always do, share our thoughts and feelings on the experience.

Shaman eyes – all the better to see you with…

Expertise in Exercising Futility

And the rest is history…

I fell in love once, just the once. It was that gut wrenching, brain melting, breath stealing, swept off your feet thing.

You know that one, the one that the romance novels make a ton of money out of telling you about. Describing it is very unsatisfactory for a writer – and I hope that some of the above is recognisable to most if not all who read this, cause it should happen at least once in your life.

But be aware that it really doesn’t happen the same way twice!

So that initial thing is like the first hit of a drug and I’m told that is why it is called ‘Chasing the Dragon’,
Afterwards your body and brain remember the feeling, it is no longer something new, so maybe if we change the recipe slightly…?

The recipe, the dose the ingredients all play a part in how we get hooked on things.

So does the timing. Mr Jagger once posited that ‘you can’t always get what you want, but you might just find you get what you need’.

Great sentiment, very wise words the problems arise when we don’t recognise the thing that we need when we need it and go of like Parzival looking for something perfect, just what we think we want, that if we can just get hold of it everything will be just as it should always be.

That one time love thing…it lasted a very long time and was not entirely reciprocal. Not entirely, he was very fond of me, how crushing is that?

Amazingly if you are in the brain zapped stage of the neural peptide explosion (which is the chemical reaction of the brain to the new stimuli) you will find that you can forgive such insignificant things and resolve to wait it out until he or she suddenly realises that you only draw breathe because they are in the Universe.


I had an excuse…I was only twelve.

Mind you that excuse was only viable for the first year or so, all the way through adolescence if the hormone thing is the driver of these debacles. There are other more insidious drivers that push on beyond what hormones can do.

The rest of it, all thirty odd years of it, waiting and wondering, being patient and saving my heart for him and him alone, led to my being very alone a lot of the time, which wasn’t a problem really I had my work and my writing and my love for him stronger than ever and re-enforced every so often with a call or a postcard with more words on the address than on the message. If he keeps in touch he must love me…So I can’t really be with anyone else, not seriously cause it wouldn’t be fair to do that and then when he turns up on my doorstep…

Maybe he did love me; maybe it was his ego that was being stroked, maybe if I’d been a little more…

He did say to me once, ‘if only you had been older when we met…’ this was when I was 17 – it took him that long to crack on he’d been seriously interested at all, but then he was 27.

Ah those words were worth another five or six years of devotion easily!

And so it went on. Until over the course of time when he’d finally cut me off completely and I could only wonder where in the World he was and if he was doing alright, if he was still alive even.

Eventually I began to do my own thing and to get back into the world step-by-step, bastard-by-bastard.

I was lucky, I have a very strong will, that helped me through the ‘knight in shining’ phase, and the fall out afterwards.

That is possibly why we should change the endings to some fairy tales and say that the happy ever after doesn’t always come the way you expect it too or when you expect it to, and sometimes if we are totally blind we miss it completely and keep on looking for holy grails.

Some of which are very promising until looked at up close… when you find the tarnished and not so perfect parts off you go again.

What happened to me? Oh well, I stopped looking and went off and did something else instead and interesting things started to happen.

I don’t really regret the time I spent locked into the dream, I learned a lot about human nature there, and I learned how strong I could be. I also learned a lot about men… some of it was even good!

I never did have that neural peptide rush again, quite possibly I never will, I think I prefer to be able to actually talk to the man I’m with not just sit there in awe totally ga-ga! Waiting for him to say something profound like ‘geez the sauce’

In saying that, men can and do get themselves tied up in the most amazing situations. Sometimes they don’t want to take responsibility for themselves so they take it for you, if you let them!

They can be led on just as easily as we, even though they know it’s really putting their heads on the block, if this would just happen, if that would take place and until that time I can wait. Wait for what, a person to love you so much they can’t bear to be without you for a nano second longer…?

If such is the case, where are they? There should be no obstacles human or otherwise that would stop you from being together and certainly nothing on this earth or off of it would entice you to be with someone else in the meantime, unless deep down you know that it is just stardust and dreams. Perfection is what we make it.
We make ourselves happy or we make ourselves miserable – the amount of work is the same, so says Carlos Castaneda, and he is absolutely right!

Anyone who professes to love another to the extent that they are soul mates, and meant to be and anyone who accepts an offer of such magnitude, by the very nature of the love they profess to share would move heaven and earth to be together right NOW! It is their responsibility to each other, and to the Universe that is putting them together, or is it just that there is a lesson to be learned…

Ah, once upon a time…

The Hundredth Monkey

Mariko Makes a Discovery

Mariko sat by the tree line looking onto the beach; the rest of her family were foraging for food and the younger members were larking about, as they were wont to do.

As she sat there just dreaming of nothing in particular a thought occurred to her.

It would not be long before the tourists would come, and in order that they would have contact with Mariko and her family the boat men would carry buckets of potatoes cooked and ready to eat. Mariko’s family were getting quite lazy with all this free food around, this was Mariko’s honest opinion; it did not bode well for the future of the little ones she thought. One day they would stop bringing the potatoes and what would they do for food then. There was not that much variety on the island, and the potatoes were a very welcome treat. Hot and soft they filled the belly nicely till tea time; beyond that even sometimes, having eaten too much the youngsters would flop to sleep until the next morning.

Mariko was very wise. Her Great, Great, Grandmother had been very wise too, and it was said that Mariko most resembled her from all her relations, Mariko would do great things, she realised that depending on the boat men to bring them potatoes was not a good thing. Lately they had begun to be late, and there were less people with them to visit with the family. Mariko knew that something must be done to encourage the people to come back so that they would have potatoes every day, all summer long.

The great water lapped at the shore, and the sun twinkled on the wavelets, and Mariko sat and watched and waited for the thing. She waited and she watched, still and silent as the noise around her lessened and her focus of attention was just so, and then it happened. She could see the answer, just as Great, Great Grandmother had seen in her time. All at once Mariko knew what to do.

It was time for the boats to come, bringing the people and of course the all important potatoes.

Mariko waited for the optimum opportunity to present itself, and perhaps she would make it happen should that be necessary.

There they were, coming around the headland.

She was very excited, but knew that she must appear totally at ease. The element of surprise was tantamount.

As the boat men climbed down from the prows of their crafts and lifted the buckets full of potatoes onto the sand the people left in the boats all stood waiting expectantly – and oh today would be a wonderful day for them and for us Mariko thought.

Distributing the potatoes was not a beautiful thing to see, they were more or less thrown on the sand for the family to pick up when they emerged from the tree line as they were doing now.

Unseen, Mariko made her way along one side of a boat and picked a beautiful potatoe from a bucket. Making sure she was in full view of the people on the boat she showed them the potatoe and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose she dipped the potatoe into the water and washed it.

The people loved this – there was a little macaque washing her potatoe before she would eat, how divine – quickly take photos!
How clever it was this little monkey – how entertaining to see – quick, quick give them more, make sure they are all sandy and gritty so they will wash them. They are so like us when they do these things are they not?

The rest of the family saw what was going on and copied Mariko after a while, some not all; it would take a while to convince them all.

The most wonderful thing though that Mariko found, was that dipping the potatoe in the water gave it a better taste. Very savoury – little did she know but she had just salted her potatoe! What a discovery, they tasted better after they had been in the water.

Later just before nesting down, Mariko thought of her Grandmother, who had discovered the hot springs so long ago. Using them to sit in when the snow was deep and the temperature so low that her old bones would hardly move without singing a terrible shrieking song.

So on an island off Japan, there is a troop of Macaque monkeys who wash and salt their food in the sea in summer and who bathe in hot springs to lessen their discomfort in the winter.

Mariko, just as her Great, Great, Grandmother had been, was the hundredth monkey.

Is that a Gun in your pocket....

OR A SNUB-NOSED IRRAWADDY DOLPHIN?


I saw a wonderful thing today. I saw something that re-enforced my belief in the power of the story!

There I was, bored, doing my ADDH exercises (extreme telly channel hopping), when my finger became suddenly cataleptic, my subconscious had found something intriguing.

It was a programme on the Animal Channel, Action Planet I think and it was half way through, but I got a little bit of info from the bar at the bottom of the screen so I stuck around to see what would happen.

My patience was rewarded.

The programme was about a team of people trying to bring the snub-nosed river dolphins back into the conscious awareness of the villagers around the river, in a bid to save this most endangered species.

There was a bit about the team not getting on – well humans do that – and some bickering, which was really not that attractive from an ambassadorial perspective.

But the main part was the fact they were in Cambodia, they did not really speak the language and their mission was to raise the awareness of the plight of the dolphins and make the villagers realise what they were about to lose.

How did they do it?

They did not preach at them. They did not shout and scream at them. They did not plead with them.
They put on a spectacle; they acted out a story, the legend of the snub-nose dolphins and how they came to be.

The surprise that the team got was the turnout for their ‘play’.

In a place with no television, radio or telephones the amount of people that turned up for this ‘entertainment’ was outstanding!

The risk was that they were using a very old and venerated tale and the older villagers would judge these foreigners on how they interpreted it.

Not only did they have the villagers in the audience, but all the local schools in the area closed for the morning so the children could attend and the local Buddhist monks were also a part of the audience.

It went down a treat, the children loved it, the monks seemed amused by the whole thing and the elders of the villages smiled kindly – all applauded at the end.

What’s the big deal? None of these people spoke the others language, there was a smattering of Cambodian during the play but that was really the only spoken words in the whole thing. By gesture and mime the story unfolded to an audience entranced and enraptured by the events taking place before them.

But the story, the story got through to them, to a new generation that now when they see the dolphins in the rivers remember the legend being told to them; of how the dolphins came to be and their connection with the villagers themselves and how sad would it be to lose that connection.

Keeping these thoughts in the minds of the villagers it is more likely they will think of the dolphins – and things may change..

Fables Flowing Fluidly Telling Timely Tales

What is a ‘fable’ and is that where the word fabulous comes from?

Is it a fairy tale or is it something different? What’s the point in it at all, what does it ultimately do?
Aesop, now there was a guy who knew his fables, or were they parables, and does that become com – parable?
Language is cool is it not?

So, when you’ve gone away and had a look at the fables of Aesop and quite a few others, (some of the Chinese ones are excellent), come back and ask the questions above again. What connections have you made since first reading the questions above?

Someone in my company recently asked what on earth I was doing fiddle arsing around at a story telling course, and how could I believe that in doing so it would make my therapeutic skills any better. In reply I asked another question, ‘when was the last time someone told you a leaning forward, ears fully open, eyes wide, hang on every nuance of word and movement, story?

They could not remember, and thinking of that – take it one step farther when was the last time you told a leaning forward, ears fully open, eyes wide, listener hanging onto every nuance of every word you say and every move you make, story?
Can you remember a time now when all your disbelief was suspended and time itself actually stopped; because the place that you were in had no clocks or watches, only talking goats and trolls and wolves and little girls with red hooded capes and bears that liked porridge?
Think of it now and tell me – do you recall being stressed at all? Do you remember all the things that the main character had to go through on their particular journeys?

I remember that they all had things in common. They were good and kind and used their skills and wits to get them to where they needed to go. They recognised the less than totally positive characters that dwelt within the story of their journey and dealt with them by using the resources that they had and they were not afraid to ask for help, nor were they afraid or too selfish to offer it to others; and in doing so gained a new perspective on taking things at face value and the needs of others being a strong indicator to their actions. That by positively treating someone differently to how they perceived they would be dealt with would make a change in their world to the extent that it would have a domino effect upon others they encounter, sometimes just by taking the time to tell a story…by telling your story…

Wondering how wonderful things could be if we all remembered how to tell our stories…makes me realise that magic happens, it happens all the time and we don’t even see it; we don’t look for it we look at our feet or over the shoulder of the person in front of us locked in our own prison towers behind great hedges of thorns. Suffering from the curse of amnesia we can’t remember how to make a happy ending – until someone reminds us, and we remember how to say ‘Once upon a time..’

It's Not What You Say, It's The Way That You Say It

Language Patterns

Does ‘assume’ really make an ass out of you and me?


Presuppositions abound in our language, and for the most part they are learned behaviour. This is a belief of mine, and I believe this because we learn our language from our parents first and foremost, and let’s face it – we like to mimic. I, therefore assume that since my first model of the world was recognisable to me all my presuppositional language came form my parents telling me how it should be.

When we do come into contact with others outside of our ilk, it is likely to be in the nursery or even on some occasions later than that at primary school; when the parent hands the reins over to another adult who the child can only assume has the same values and beliefs as the parents because they trust this teacher person to look after the child.

The first influence is the adult teacher, we assume. More likely the first influence and the first experience of peer pressure will occur on the playground – we kind of forget that. Children recognise children and respond accordingly.

NLP tells us that it is important to listen to speech, the inherent qualities and concepts that are the assumptions in the others world.

Here is where the internal representations are questioned and the structure their model of the world is assailed on a daily basis and you know, don’t you, that learning is easy…


Leslie Currie 29/01/2007

Quantum R.T.A’s

Stop the World…



Where were we? Ah yes, I just want to go back a little – to the ‘yanking’ episode – there I was, I assume that at least I was to all intents and purposes – like – there…somewhere! I am making this assumption due to the fact that I have a memory of everything in the world stopping; just right out of the blue I’m aware of being ‘up there’ suspended in space and time. Totally safe, not at all bothered about where the meat and bones of me would be found, because to be sure, there would be no way I could be this light and still be in my body…could I?

And, to get right down to it, who was I at that split nano second of freeze frame? I had some kind of animation, I could sense myself being ergo I must be making some movement; we are never perfectly still, until of course rigor steps in! And that sure as hell wasn’t on the menu, please and thank you to whoever or whatever, and wasn’t it just too perfect that that did not matter at all.
Absolutely no concern for my predicament and the World was just there and I was – not…but yes…could there be another explanation? Did I jump or was I pulled? Was this an out of body experience or was my one and only Soul about to discover the Thodol Bardo was spot on and there were things and places and spaces and times yet to be traversed. Was I about to get the answers to all the questions? Was there part of me out there to be met and returned to?

Had I dropped through the veils of realities and become suspended in limbo? I am hearing myself guffaw as I write this that is too romantic even for me! Or is it? Perhaps that is the whole point.

The Universe had me, by the scruff of the neck – it had picked me up and held me aloft in this daze of space. There was a choice to be made and only I could make it. Oh it’s ultimatum time and you’re gonna leave here, I can see that glazing over in your eyes…

CLARITY! The Universe has the capacity to be a bit of a ‘tough love’ aficionado and as the time thing unravelled before my rapidly glazing eyes I began to see where I’d gone wrong…or at least I thought I had.

Once upon an end of bastard Wednesday, I trundled my way back home entertaining the idea on one hand of getting changed and going out and meeting up with the boys from Judo, on the other hand, however, the more tantalizing idea was to give it a miss, jump into a long hot bath and go to bed and sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep until old Rip called Uncle and confessed to cat napping! The closer the bus got to my home the more I felt I wanted to stay there. I wanted to see the guys and once I got my lazy arse in gear I’d most likely have an excellent time, I thought, then I thought, no – you need to stay at home just stay at home see them on Saturday it’s not too long to wait.

And so it went on all the way into the house, up to the bedroom, into the bathroom and while back on the bus to go back into town.

Closer and closer feeling more and more uneasy, just stay on this bus it’s the circular, you don’t even have to get off your seat, stay on, go home you will not be having such a good time if you continue on here…
I had another opportunity to leave afterwards when a friend called into the pub and offered to put me up for the night. For some reason staying was the only option and so that is what I did.

And, there I was, things getting dimmer below me, no feeling of trepidation just a natural kind of hankering to be going on…

Until, just when I thought everything was going to be finally right, the Universe (or Universal Representative even) let me go!

That’s right – it dropped me and I banjoed my brain off the tarmac of the pavement in one great WHAP!

It took a little bit of time for me to realise that it was actually the pavement and not the middle of the road, which had been my last map reference so confusion ruled.

Since I’ve always been the kind of practical type, my immediate thought after what the fu…??! Was to make a body check – wiggle toes, yes still ten, extend ankles – good no problem there though my feet were quite cold, the knees bent and in the right direction – big relief and then the back was fine but oh! Oh! There was this big, wet, lump on my head where it had – as only it can - in Glasgow – kissed the pavement!

Out of nowhere crowds of people arrived, where do they come from by the way? It was after midnight the streets had been empty, is there like a callout crowd, you know someone presses a button and an alarm goes off and beepers are beeping everywhere and all these people drop everything and rush to be instant rubberneckers at accident sites?

The icing on the cake was the arrival of the police. I don’t get a panda car or a beat cop - no… I get a mini bus full of them going on duty, and they took my shoes from the middle of the road I’m sure that should’ve been evidence! Of what I’m not sure, that the car was going so fast that I can jump higher than Daley Thompson with a 10ft pole, that the guy actually did see someone for a split second in his headlights a gal gone ‘tharn’! (He hadn’t been so sure, he slewed to a stop and sent his passenger out to make sure – all I remember of that was ridiculously high heels and blonde hair and whining, not from me, I hasten to add!) That came later when they picked the tarmac out of my eyebrows and forehead with enormous tweezers while asking me how much I had had to drink.

No other marks at all.

When I finally got home… well that is another story and when I know you well enough to introduce you to my Mother, you will read it then.

A couple of years or so afterward I attended a seminar given by the transport police on fatal accidents. There was a picture of a Volkswagon Gti with the windscreen smashed in when the body of the victim hit it on her way over the length of the car.
The guy in front of me said, ‘No way was anybody walking away from something like that’.

I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “ I beg to differ, it can be done, but it’s best not to try it without the aid of a Universal Representative on hand”.

See you down the rabbit hole…