Using the power and techniques of Shamanic healing to support people as they work through journeys of loss and grief...
For some, Glasgow may be just a large city in Scotland, birthplace of the likes of Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Billy Connolly, and renowned for its dockyards and culture. For me, it’s the birthplace of my dad, the place of my ancestors. Not just the kind of ancestral history often associated with the Campbell clan, but a more personal one of theatre troupe, tenement life and colourful stories of antics and misdemeanours.
Memories of my grandparents tenement is a mash-up of concrete stairs, ticking clock, the rumble of trains, square sausage and tomato juice, and of feeling safe. Everything else is a verbal hand-me-down, no photos or mementos; and with my dad having passed over a long time ago, there’s no one left to ask.
I’d thought about returning many times, but somehow I couldn’t do it. And even when I tried it didn’t happen; I’d booked to go…twice… in the past couple of years, but each time I had to cancel at the last minute.
Then recently, I did it, I returned to Glasgow. I know that what made it possible this time was finally saying goodbye to my dad. For 20 years, I’ve missed him: missed his support, his wisdom, his humour. I’m not going to pretend he was perfect and have had sessions to release some of the wounds and issues, but he also taught me so much and was always there for me.
The biggest piece of work for me was during the Medicine Wheel, as tears streamed listening to ‘The Living Years’ by Mike & the Mechanics, and the overwhelming sadness that I’d never had a chance to say thank you, to say sorry, to say goodbye and most importantly to tell my dad: I love you. The beauty of this ‘medicine’ is that I had the chance to do this – admittedly reluctantly, but I knew it was right, I wanted to free both him and me. Which is what I have felt since. Having told him all the things I never could and sending him with love to the spirit world, I have felt lighter, and no longer desperately look for signs of him. And of course, made it back to his home city.
Not remembering my grandparents old address I decided against looking for where they’d lived, but I did visit museums, and even the Britannia Panopticon, where my great, great ancestors may well have performed. And, yes, I’d hoped to find some clue, some link with my past.
For a moment, I was disappointed to find none, but strangely, I’m glad I didn’t. The city, the social history, the music hall all brought to life those stories I’d grown up with. And as I made a despacho on the banks of the Cylde, I felt such gratitude and connection with all my paternal ancestors on whose shoulders I stand, and with the land of which he was so proud.
I know I’m not alone in finding it hard to let go of a loved one, unable to revisit the places on the inside and the out that remind us of them, or not knowing how to heal those shadows and emotions that keep us tethered. Losing someone important can feel like losing a part of ourselves, and can make us feel like we don’t know what to do, which way to turn or how to move on.
My own experience of shamanic healing has felt transformational and as a shamanic practitioner myself, I use the techniques of the Andean medicine men and women to help people with the healing process. Working at your own pace, gently and over time, heavy energies are cleared, creating space for new things to emerge and grow. And as I experienced during my trip to Glasgow, this healing allows memories to be carried much more lightly as we move forward in life.
If you would like to discuss how shamanic healing can help you or to arrange a session, call Deb Campbell on 07816 449841 or email email@example.com.