One of my favourite power tools is weather control. Throughout the ages, Shamans have practiced various methods of controlling the weather. Often shrouded in ritual, there are invocations, ceremonies, dances, purifications, and sometimes sacrifices. When I took Level 2 – Ancient Shamanism, I felt like my teacher was just reminding me of things I had forgotten. I didn’t know it then, but as I’ve worked with the Level 2 power tools, I’ve remembered many experiences of being a Shaman.
Some part of me has always known I had influence on the weather around me, in the way that I know when I allow myself to believe in those things that have no logical explanation. But I didn’t really own it.
Fast forward a few years – I was living in beautiful Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. I was renting a room in the basement of a level 9 colleague’s home. We had a level 13 housemate. The three of us were an odd assortment. I learned a lot about myself during that time, including being witnessed in the act of creating a weather shift so precise, there was really no denying it was my doing.
Please understand that I love the rain. I love the sound of it in the trees. I love the smell in the air. I love the softer quality of light. I even love walking in the rain, especially in the woods. But there are times when I just don’t want to get wet.
I was taking a fast-track certification course for dog trainers. The program was physically challenging and overall, quite demanding. We worked outdoors 80% of the time, rain or shine. In this beautiful rainforest we got more than our fair share of rain that fall. I was constantly drying off myself and my canine counterpart, Nootka.
Weeks of almost non-stop rain left me unprepared to accept getting wet on my day off. This one Saturday I’d arranged to make up some credit by doing extra work with Nootka. I woke that morning to pouring rain. I don’t mean just a little rain – I mean pelting down. This type of disappointment was enough to set me off in those days – I was feeling pretty worn out and very soggy. But I held steady, decided to change my attitude and just get it done.
My girl Nootka lived about 10 minutes away. By the time I had her in the car ready to go, it was only spitting. Another 10 minutes to get to the back lawn of the Parliament buildings where I was meeting my teacher. By then the rain had stopped and the clouds were starting to clear. By the time the group of us had gathered around our teacher with our dogs, the sun had come out.
Seriously. Within 15 more minutes, we had clear blue sky above us and we’d all peeled off various layers to shorts and t-shirts. There was quite a lot of smiling going on (dogs included) – I wasn’t the only one who was tired of the rain.
We worked for an hour or so, with only an occasional cloud passing. In the time it took me to drive Nootka home, the clouds started coming in. By the time I got home, I didn’t need my sunglasses at all. And that’s when I lost track of the weather. I took a quick shower and a half hour nap. And when I woke, it was pelting down rain again.
I remember thinking how grateful I was for the sunshine earlier. But I didn’t really give it much thought until I was talking with my Level 9 housemate over coffee. She was so happy I’d done such a great job clearing the weather. She’d had two peaceful hours in the garden, no rain at all, and almost an hour of bright sunshine. She chuckled as she told me that it had started to rain again right after I went downstairs for my nap.
And, just like that, she’d turned on the light. I realized that yes, I had done that. I made the rain stop and the sun come out. It stayed clear for the entire time I had to be outside. Once my need for dryness was done, the rain returned. It took up right where it left off.
It was a dramatic demonstration really. Almost unbelievable that the timing was so precise. Except that I’d witnessed it too. And I set my intention right then to practice using this power tool often so that I would be able to wield it with confidence and precision.
~ by Nancy Marsh, Level 1 Teacher