~My Crazy Shaman Life~

Speaking with animals, seeing Spirits in a crowded room & trying to grocery shop while a ghost is talking to me...these are some of the experiences I have on a regular basis. I am a single Mom, a Shaman & psychic. How do all these things mesh? Well, read along; from the fantastical to the mundane (& even some thoughts that are rambling around in my head)...I leave it all here for you. 

My name is Iena SpiritWalker & this is My Crazy Shaman Life!

Our Blog

An ongoing series of informational entries

Kidney Splat

May 25, 2019

As he laid in that hospital bed, drugged up on pain killers, I was annoyed. I told him this would happen. Why wouldn't he believe me? I was totally numb to his predicament. I'd helped so many people with my abilities... total strangers. Yet, my own husband, did not heed my warnings. Clearly, he never believed in me...and I was certain in that moment that he never would.


Mark & I had been together for almost 18 years. About a year before this incident, I had realized he was psychologically abusive towards myself & our 2 children. He's passive aggressive & a “gas lighter”. Meaning, he always had a way of making us feel like shit & thinking it was our fault. We were trained to believe that we were not worthy, a financial burden & that he was the hero that would save us all. This type of abuse was very insidious, as the only scars it left were on our souls.


The big insight came on the heels of my son, Ezra's, 9th birthday. We'd been living on the Hawaiian island of Kauai for a few years & absolutely loved it. Mark & I bought a lawn care & cleaning business from a friend. Business was booming. After another busy day of work, we gathered around in the kitchen, to talk to the birthday boy about what he'd like to do on his special day. “I got $35 dollars already!”, he bragged about his birthday card cash. “Wow.”, I said, “That's awesome! What would you like to do to celebrate?” (We had a birthday party already planned with friends on the beach in a few days. But, this was the actual day of his birth.) He was absolutely beaming with excitement. “I want to go to Sam's!”. This is a waterfront restaurant. We'd been here once before for desert. It's got a great ocean view & smores is on the menu. They bring sterno cans out to the table & let the kids roast & build their own... a real hit with the keikis (Hawaiian word for children). “Okay, let's go!”, I exclaimed. “Wait.”, his father sternly demanded. “That place costs a lot of money. I think you should give us your $35 to help pay for the meal.” My mouth dropped open. I looked at my son & back at my husband. “What are you talking about? He's 9 years old. This is his birthday dinner!”. “You can keep your birthday money, Ezra. Let's got to dinner.”, I said. By now, his little body was slumped over in guilt. The spark in his eyes was gone & he looked absolutely defeated. “No, Mom, it's okay. You can have my money.” He said, as he stared at his feet. “No, absolutely not. It's your birthday. Our treat. Let's go.” He let out a big sigh. I looked back at Mark, “WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? Why would you say that to him? Look what you did!” By now, my daughter, Autumn is hugging my leg, looking for some assurance. I bent down & hugged them both. After a lot of pushing, we made it to the restaurant. It felt like a pointless victory, since the damage had already been done. Ezra got his birthday meal at Sam's. He & his sister enjoyed roasting their own smores at the table. But, somehow, none of it tasted very good. The feeling of guilt (and, for me, anger) was all around us that night. We wore it like a familiar blanket. Mark spent the whole meal clinching his teeth & staring at his plate. It was awful. In truth, we'd been treated like this for years. By the Grace of Spirit, my blinders had finally been removed & I could truly see what was happening to us all. I still loved Mark & tried desperately to make things work for the next year. I pleaded with him to see a psychiatrist, on his own or I would join him in couples therapy. He refused. We fought a lot.

It was summer on Kauai. The humidity was high & there were a lot of clients on the schedule. Mark cut the lawns & trimmed the landscapes. My job was to clean houses on my own (and, eventually, train more staff), tend to the customers, set the schedules for house cleaning & lawn care, pay the bills & advertise. I did all this while homeschooling our 2 kids. I noticed that Mark was coming home after 8-10 hours of working in the heat with a half full water thermos. He was drenched in sweat & only drank about 8 ounces of water all day. I was concerned & my psychic visions of his health were not good. I would start reminding him to bring more water with him in the morning & following up with him about it when he got home. Nothing changed. It just became one more thing for us to fight about.


An evening was coming up where both kids were staying at friends' houses. I decided that I would have a serious talk with Mark then. Anticipating some argument, I thought it'd be best if the kids weren't around. But, I had to try. His health was in danger & I would do my best to make him hear me. I had also hoped to put an end to the arguing as well. I wanted to really sit with him, eye to eye, no ego & pray that he could hear my concern for his health & our marriage.

The kids were gone & I asked Mark if we could talk. We sat together on our bed. We sat down & I began expressing my concern for his health. He immediately got defensive & started shouting. I pleaded, “Please, Mark. You need to drink more water. I can SEE your kidneys. They look like DRIED UP SPONGES!” He leaned into my face & said, “I think you're just being a CONTROLLING BITCH!” I felt a stabbing pain in my heart. I was speechless for a moment. How would asking him to drink more water be a form of control?? I didn't understand. But, by the look in his eyes, it was clear that he was done. At that moment, I felt like he had died. With the last bit of composure I had, I shouted, “Well, if you're not going to take care of yourself, you should at least have the BALLS to get life insurance, you selfish prick!!”


I stumbled out of the house. I was shaking, grieving & completely lost. I wanted to go to my friend, Marilyn's house. She lived just across the street & down a long driveway. It was completely dark and I recognized that was not able to drive. I grabbed the cell phone out of my back pocket & called her, sobbing. She told me to just start walking & that she would meet me along the way. As I blindly wondered in the direction of her house, I saw a faint light & heard the crunching of someone marching quickly on the gravel. It was Marilyn. She was in her pajamas, wearing fuzzy slippers, retainer in her mouth & flashlight in her hand. I collapsed in her arms & sobbed uncontrollably. She escorted me to her home, where I would spend the night. The grief I felt was overwhelming. Although I'd felt like Mark had died, it was really my marriage. It was as if it was just hanging on my a thread. As I was reaching out to rebuilt it, he chopped the last, tiny connection we had. It was over.

I did return home the next morning. I never mentioned his kidneys or drinking water to him again. I would never speak with him about anything other than business or the kids. As my awareness of his abuse became more clear, the wedge between us grew even wider. We were 2 strangers, living under the same roof. I had no feelings left for him...no love & no hate..nothing.


Two weeks after the big fight, my daughter, Autumn, was visiting with friends. Mark & I were taking Ezra & his friend to the beach. We decided to stop at our favorite little eatery, Mermaids. The 4 of us were standing in line on the sidewalk for the take out window. I was talking to the boys about their order. I heard a moan & then a loud SPLAT. As I looked into the direction of the noise, I could see Mark lying on the sidewalk. I could see that he was in pain & unable to stand. I asked the boys to stay with him & brought the car around. He outweighed me by at least 70 pounds & I could not lift him. I asked two big guys to load him in the car for me. The boys got in & we headed for the emergency room.


Friends had picked up the boys. Mark was examined, on an IV, pain killers & lying in the hospital bed. The doctor entered & began explaining Mark's situation. He had some sort of kidney spongiosis. The doc said that people are born with it & don't usually discover it until they're in their 40's (which he was). He continued on to say that the best thing to do would be to proactively drink a lot of water. At this point, most people would go for that big “I told you so” moment. But, by now, I didn't care. I was angry that he didn't listen to me. I was angry at myself for allowing someone to treat the kids & I the way he did. But, I had already let him go & grieved the departure of him from my life. To make matters worse, he was so drugged up, he didn't even remember the doctor say those things.


He did recover & seemed to make more of an effort to drink more water during work. But, the marital damage was done & we no longer had any connection to each other. Within that year, I would file for a divorce. While the children & I were on Maui, looking for a new home, Mark emptied our savings & business accounts. This left me penniless, relying on friends & family wiring me money so that I could feed the kids & pay the bills. His selfishness & abuse increased & manifested in horrible ways during the divorce process. It has been nearly a decade since my divorce. After a long, difficult road, the wounds of abuse have healed. The scars remain as a reminder of the road we have traveled & the events we have survived.

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~My Crazy Shaman Life~

Speaking with animals, seeing Spirits in a crowded room & trying to grocery shop while a ghost is talking to me...these are some of the experiences I have on a regular basis. I am a single Mom, a Shaman & psychic. How do all these things mesh? Well, read along; from the fantastical to the mundane (& even some thoughts that are rambling around in my head)...I leave it all here for you. My name is Iena SpiritWalker & this is My Crazy Shaman Life!

A Fire Tornado & Pancakes

April 22, 2019

I stood there, briefly frozen with disbelief. My mouth was wide open & eyes fixated on that one spot on the floor. Maggots, yes MAGGOTS, were coming up from the rug. They seemed to materialize from nowhere. One moment it was teal carpet. The next, little white larvae seemingly birthed out of the short pile & squirming all over the place. Ugh. They just kept coming. It was like a Stephen King novel...wiggly, disgusting & a bit foreboding.


My parents, my kids & I all stood in the dining room, watching this odd occurrence. My Mom speculated that a rodent must've died in the sub flooring. I knew EXACTLY what it was. It was that fucking Ouija board in the basement. For years, everytime I visited my parents, I could feel the nasty, negative energy of that thing & asked my mother to get rid of it. “It's just a game.”, she'd say. “Besides, it used to belong to your Great Grandmother.” Her strange attachment to this dangerous vehicle of Spirit was a bit disturbing. But, it was her house & her space, so...what could I do?


But, things were different now. My children & I had just moved in with my parents after a nasty divorce. Their space is now ours, as well. “I HAVE to destroy it.”, I thought. Those maggots were a clear warning & that damn Ouija board was the cause. I got my confirmation immediately when my father emerged from the basement. “No mice. Nothing.” He's a man of few words, but the message was clear. There was no physical reason for those maggots...of course.


For now, I would say extra payers of Protection for my family & the space. I began formulating a plan. My children were leaving the next day for a 3 day visitation with their dad. That same day, my parents had an errand to run that would take about 2 hours. “Tomorrow, then.”, I thought. I knew if my mom found out, she would be very angry at me. After all, she told me on several occasions how connected she was to it. But, I HAD to do it. My family's safety was on the line & any subsequent arguments or hurt feelings would be worth it.


The night had come & gone quickly. I had no idea what time my parents were leaving. But, I prayed it was after my kids left & it would all line up perfectly...and it did. No sooner were my children picked up, than my parents announced they were headed out & to return shortly. I had to act fast, for getting caught destroying this object could possibly cause a BIG conflict. I speculated that if I could get rid of it while they were gone & clean up all evidence of doing so, they'd probably never notice. After all, it was in the basement, covered in dust, among countless other forgotten items & cardboard boxes.


I watched out the window, to confirm that my parents actually pulled out of the driveway. As soon as they hit the road, I ran to my closet. I grabbed my skirt, feathers & other ceremonial wear. To be time efficient, I began the prayers to the Ancient Ones & Spirit helpers while I was changing. I asked for Guidance, knowledge & protection. Fully dressed now, I unzipped my drum from it's case, located sage & the wind proof lighter. “Ready!”, I exclaimed.


I set my materials out on the back porch & pulled out the mobile fire pit. I smudged myself & my drum with white sage & said a few more prayers. 3 more cleansing breaths....and GO! I scurried down the basement stairs & retrieved the Ouija board & reader window. Back up the steps & out to the porch. I began breaking the board up with my hands, stepping on it & exerting whatever force was needed to got this thing into the pit. I placed a sprig of sage in the fire pit & lit it all. I began drumming & singing.

The fire rapidly expanded. Before my eyes, it formed a “tornado”...a swirling, firey tornado. I was surprisingly calm at this moment & can only accredit this to my Spirit helpers that were with me. This beastly blaze rose up to 10 feet now & I heard it growl. It began swaying, as if to say, “Here I am.”. The tip of the tornado began to lean in towards the house. “Oh, shit.”, I thought. Whatever that thing was, it was still threatening the safety of my family. I walked over & stood between the tornado flame & the house. “I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!”, I exclaimed. As I continued to drum & stood my ground as the Protector of that place, the flame grew smaller. I watched as the swirl unraveled & the fire disintegrated into a pile of embers.


I felt the breeze, or Spirit exhale, as I like to call it. The Being was released from the object & the door was closed. I said a prayer of gratitude & took a few deep breaths. One more smudge with the White sage for cleansing & Blessing. “Now”, I thought, “time for clean up”. I added water to the fire pit. While the embers were cooling, I grabbed my ceremonial objects & ran back up to my bedroom. The items were placed on the bed & I switched back into my t-shirt & jeans. Back down the steps & out to the garage to grab a shovel. I found the perfect spot in the treeline for it, dug a hole & poured it in. All that was left was a little, warped, circular glass window from the reader. I added some tobacco, offered one more prayer & covered it with dirt. I rinsed off the fire pit & stood it on it's side to drip dry. The shovel was put away & I headed back into the house.

In all the excitement, I'd forgotten that I hadn't eaten any breakfast. “Pancakes would be fun.”, I thought, “with blueberries.” Just then, The door slammed. “We're home.”, my Mom shouted. 


Wow, that was close!

Butterfly Kisses. A Childhood Confession

April 28, 2019

At the age of eight, I never imagined that I would kill a friend. In fact, up until that moment, I'd never experienced death before. Yet, I knew this is what she needed... the only solution was for her to die. I had offered her this one last Gift of Love. I was filled with absolute despair & total relief.

Since I was a child, I could speak to animals. I had a very lonely childhood. So, the creatures that I interacted with were my only friends. They accepted me & understood me on levels other humans did not. One of my favorite places to spend time was my father's shed, built in the treeline. Some field mice that had a nest underneath the wood floor. I would lay on my belly & squeeze my hand into the tiny opening. I felt around for my furry friends. Sometimes my arm would go all the way in to my elbow. When I felt a mouse, I would gently pick them up & pull them out. I'd stroke their soft fur, look into their eyes & tell them all about my day. I often had treats for them: usually berries from the woods or crackers from the pantry. They really didn't seem too picky. When I sensed they were ready to return, I'd put them back & pull a different mouse out. They were very patient with me & seemed to enjoy my company. There were a few times that I felt a particular connection to one specific mouse & invited them into the house (without my parents' knowledge). I'd put them in a cardboard box, filled with grass, water & treats. I wanted them to be comfortable during their visit. On several occasions, they climbed out of the box & wreaked total havoc in my home. My mom would scream & our 2 cats were absolutely excited to have a chase indoors. They would knock over lampshades & tear through the house, chasing my little friend. I would run after them, screaming & crying, “Stop! No! Leave him alone!”. After several “escapes”, she forbid me from inviting my mouse friends into the house again.


My connection did not stop with mice. I often would find injured animals, simply by “hearing” (psychically) their cries for help. I found a baby mole, injured rabbits, birds, an owl and many more. I did my best to care for them & show them love. My parents often helped me. For those that survived, they Blessed me with the opportunity to release them back into the wild. Those were amazing moments. I knew my friends were always wild & would only truly be happy until they returned home. I never intended to turn them into something they are not (like, a house pet).


One of my most cherished activities in the summer was be to watch & catch butterflies. I did not want to hurt them with a net (it could rip their wings), so I would try to catch them by hand. In addition, I was very aware that the natural oil in my hands could remove the powder from their wings, rendering them unable to fly. A slow, gentle cupping of the hands was my “go to” motion. Needless to say, I wasn't very successful. But, being surrounded by monarch butterflies was absolute magic to me & it didn't really matter if I actually caught one (or, so I thought).


On one particular day, I slowly approached a monarch butterfly enjoying the nectar of a dandelion. The closer I got, the more surprised I was that she did not fly away. I recall holding my breath just before I gently cupped my hands around this beautiful creature. I even grabbed the tip of the flower, so I would not hurt her little legs as I lifted her up. I was astonished! I returned to the base of my favorite maple tree, sat down & opened my hands. Her orange & black wings were something out of a fairy tale. Under the cooling shade on this fantastical summer day, the butterfly & I hung out. My hand was flat & I was certain that she would fly away at any moment. But, she did not. I soaked in as much as I could, looking closely at her textured wings & her curled tongue. She wandered around on my legs & explored my body, with her wings happily, slowly fluttering. Before I knew it, it was getting dark...and she was still with me! I put her on my shoulder & gathered some fresh flowers. I walked into the kitchen & my mother exclaimed, “Is that a butterfly?!”. “Yes”, I replied. “She's my friend.” I took her to my room & placed a little doll pillow on top of my dresser. Then, I surrounded it with all the flowers I had just picked. I went upstairs to the bathroom & grabbed a little, paper Dixie cup, I tore the walls of the cup with my hands so that the edge was only an inch high. I put a small amount of water in it & carefully carried it downstairs. I placed the water on the dresser, as well. “There.”, I said, as I lowered her onto the pillow. “This can be your spot.” She walked around, wings moving, and seemed to approve. I hurriedly had dinner with my family & rushed back into my room to check on her. She was suckling a flower. I read her a book before I went to bed.


I woke up at first light, filled with joy & wonder. There was my butterfly friend, perched on the pillow & waiting for me. A quick change & a handful of cereal & we were out the door. We sat under the tree once more. Suddenly, she flew away. “Bye!”, I said, a little disappointed. I watched, as she fluttered from flower to flower. She was so happy. I didn't dare look away. I thought I might confuse her for one of the other monarchs now dancing around the flowers as well. Then, it happened....SHE FLEW BACK! I squealed with joy. “You came back to me!!” She slowly opened & closed her wings. I giggled. That was it. We were friends beyond all others' comprehension. Nearly a week went by. Every day, we would go to the backyard & I would watch as she enjoyed the sun & the nectar. She always came back & I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet.


One day, my mom announced that we were going to my brother's t-ball game. I did not want to leave my friend alone & argued that I could not go. My mom felt that I needed to get out o the house. She wanted all of us to attend the game, to show my brother support. So, I decided she'd come with me. My mother rolled her eyes as I slowly sat down in the back of the car with her & put my seat belt on. I had chosen to wear my yellow, terry cloth short outfit (picture attached). I knew the texture would make it very easy for her to hold on. She patiently stayed in my palm during the short car ride. Although it was a hot day, I made it very clear that “no one was allowed” to open their windows”, as the wind could harm my friend. “Moooom!”, my brother shouted. “No. It's too hot!” We compromised by having the front windows cracked slightly. But, the back windows remained closed.


We soon arrived & I put my hand near my chest, so she could climb onto my shirt. We sat in the bleachers for a bit. But, I was way too squirmy to sit any longer. “We're going for a walk.”, I told my Mom. As I walked the perimeter of the local baseball field, an elderly woman approached. “That's a beautiful broach, young lady. So life like.” As if on que, she slowly opened & closed her wings. The woman was visibly startled & gasped. I giggled, “She's real.” and walked off with a huge smile on my face. I sat for a while & watched her fly off & taste the wildflowers in the tree line. She returned & we sat in the shade together until my brother's game was over. We went home & headed straight for the backyard.

The next morning, I was jolted awake, gasping for air. I ran over to my friend & by now, clutching my chest. “No.” I whispered. “No!” I was emphatically feeling her suffering. I began to panic. I ran downstairs & found my mom in the kitchen. “Mom...mom. Help! She can't breathe. My friend is DYING!! Dooo something, please.” I could see the concern & confusion raising on my mother's face. “She's just a butterfly. What do you want me to do?” “Heeeellp her!!” “I can't.” My mom explained.


Those words “she's just a butterfly” felt like a punch to the heart. I am now crying & shaking. I can deeply feel her pain & it is nearly unbearable. “She's NOT JUST A BUTTERFLY. She is my friend & she needs me. What can I do?” I thought. “I have to kill her... to end her suffering.” “No.”, I argued with myself. “I can't do it. I love her.” In that moment, I realized that I had to kill her because I loved her. I was the only one who could help her now. I would try to be brave... for her. I took a few deep breaths, wiped the tears from my eyes & walked back to her, still on the dresser. I began to cry again. This was a terrible dilemma. “How do I do this? I could step on her. Oh, God, NO. I can't.”


I remembered the hose in the backyard. It had a metal nozzle that put out a forceful, steady stream. I was watering flowers in the yard one time & squose it too hard. The force blew the flowers apart. “Ok.”, I thought. “That's it.” I put my hand near my friend & she crawled on. I walked her down the steps & outside, one last time. Standing in front of the coiled hose, I gently placed her on the grass. I grabbed the hose from it's holder & slowly turned on the water. I felt like all the blood had left my body & I had become a hollow shell...numb at the thought of what was to come. I glanced back at her one more time. “I'm sorry. I Love you.”, I sighed. At first, I aimed the nozzle in the air. I wanted to make sure this was quick. The stream was full, I put my hand in front of it & it hurt. Before I could change my mind, I quickly turned the aim onto my friend. I screamed & blasted it as her as much as I could. I watched as one of her wings broke off & flew into the air. It was done. The water had pulverized her so thoroughly, I could no longer see any remnants of her little body. I released the nozzle & fell to my knees. “I'm sorry.” I cried, “I'm sorry...” I sat in the grass for a bit, with my face in my hands, slumped over & my body shaking with despair. I knew my family would not understand why I was so upset (after all, she was "just a butterfly") & I wanted to grieve in private. I hung the hose up, turned the water off & ran back up to my room. I would spend a long time grieving for my friend & carrying the guilt of her death.


It's been nearly 40 years since I met my sweet, little monarch butterfly friend. I still look back on those times with absolute awe & inspiration. She taught me that anything is possible...that we can connect to all living beings on a very deep level. Most importantly, she taught me the meaning of empathy, compassion & sacrifice for those in need. I will never forget her & the magical time we spent together.