VINTAGE NAUGHTY! Voices in the Attic - Tales of a House Clearing

From my "Gunsligner days" in 2010.  (Oh the joys of the ego.. hahaha!) I have since updated the way I work in the Underworld, but this is a great story!  Enjoy! BTW - the boy is still doing great...

I love my work as a Shaman.   Over the years,  I have developed my "medicine" (my skill) in a few niche areas.  I have a deep love of bringing back the gifts from the Underworld - the dark shadowy place of the subconscious and the past.  If there are voodooy curses, confusing booby traps, spells, demons, poltergeists in your house, or inter-galactic shenanigans going on, that is my realm.  I suppose healing my own demons has lead me to appreciate the jewels that lie in the darkness.   So when I see these snarling, bloodthirsty, dark, malevolent forces, I feel compassion - even these guys deserve it.  Compassion or no, they are coming out of my client's life and going where they can receive healing one way or another.  They can come with me nice or naughty, but they are coming with me.  It is non-negotiable. 

My 2010 altar ego in the Underworld.

My 2010 altar ego in the Underworld.

So when I had a 7 year old client last week suffering from what his mother could only call "Not himself" symptoms that lead him to growl, bite, hate, hit and fear most parts of the house in which he lived - I was honored to get the call.  I called my mentor and discussed what I was tracking.  It involved some curse woven through the bloodline, the land being kind of pissed off and some other mysterious shenanigans with the house.

About a block away from the house I switched on my ShamanVision to help me see the unseen world really clearly.  Perched on the stone walls in the neighborhood were souls watching me - some wanting to go home some angry.  Yep, pissed off land - lots of death and unresolved things lingering here.
The neighborhood land needed alot of healing.  But ethical shamans only work where they have permission, and I did not have permission to clear the land in the entire neighborhood, so I worked with my clients to set up protections for their land.  Between three trees a spell of some sort had been woven - with the best of intentions - by a loved one.  My clients confirmed this actually happened.  However, because this person was not trained well, he inadvertently opened a portal - an energetic sinkhole where all kinds of entities could enter and do as they pleased.  Given the nature of the surrounding land, this was not working out well for my clients.  I cleared the land and closed the portal, but knew that whatever was bothering the boy, came through here.

Next we walked the house.   There was a sad lonely entity from another time wandering around in the play room - where the kids never played despite awesome toys.  The temperature was about 15 degrees cooler than the rest of the house and energetically like a vacuum - no air.  There were a few other lost souls just waiting for someone to show them the way home.  Many of them died on this particular piece of land by surprise (or heavily medicated) and just didn't know it was time to go or where to go.  I lovingly sent them all home to the light.  So far, a pretty standard house clearing.  The electrical systems were jumping with some angry energy and several light switches hadn't worked in a while or shorted out when you put the lights on.  The staircase going upstairs was frightening.  I wanted to run up it and then hide under a bed to avoid being seen.

In my client's room, there were roots like you would never want to see in a horror movie.  I won't even describe what I saw and have found that the somewhat annoying word "Shenanigans" covers alot of ground with clients.  The mother saw my face switch to deep concern and asked, "What do you see?"  I simply said, "Some strands of energy, they look a bit like roots."  And proceeded to clear what I could.  Knowing these roots must belong to something I asked, "Do you have an attic?"

"Yes, but it's really just a small crawl space, there are no lights up there and we have to go get a ladder from outside..." said the parents.

"I need to see the attic."

On my way up the ladder, I felt a swoon coming on, as if sticky warm water was poured down my head and melted my bones.  I popped up through the plywood hatch into the pillowy razors of uncovered fiberglass.  I crawled into the darkness on hands and knees grateful that I for some reason decided to wear yoga pants and the tightest black turtleneck I own.  Not attractive, but the cat burglar suit was perfect for this tight space.  They yelled up, "Do you want a flashlight?" I smiled and said, "No thank you."

People are afraid of the dark, but some things are better to see in the softness of shadow.

The attic was lit only by the small hatch I had left open behind me and a small square window that faced east.   In the corner, just a few feet in front of me was what I was looking for, the cursed entity/thing that had taken over this house - and the weakest member of the household, my 7-year old client.  My hairs stood on end and I wanted to wet my pants and run screaming down the ladder, but I couldn't.  I had a client who needed someone to work with this truly unbelievable stuff on his behalf.

I wept.  It knew my darkest secrets and lulled me for a few moments into complete self doubt and self loathing.  I was almost convinced that I should just lay down in the fiberglass and go to sleep.  Then it tried literally to take a bite out of me.  Honestly!?  I even find this hard to believe had I not experienced it.  Then it vanished.  I heard a voice say, "You're crazy,  you are making things up."   "Oh God."  I thought to myself.  "It's true.  What the hell am I doing in some strangers attic?"  Then came the low growl that shook the floor of the attic.  The parents heard the growling and yelled up, "Are you OK?!!"  Me: "Yes, thank you! down in a few minutes, it's just grumpy."  

This entity snarled at me, "He's mine!" And that is when I lunged forward and grabbed it.  I pulled with all of my might to get those roots up out of the walls in the boys room and in the hallway.  I was surprised that it took about 10 minutes of sweaty heaving in the dark attic to get it all up and out.  When it was done, I crawled back down the ladder shaking, white and covered in fiberglass.  So much for my altar ego.  They brought me some of my sparkling water.  Mandarin flavored bubbles of happiness slowly brought me back to life.  The mother looked at me and said, "OK, I am trying to figure out Natalie Language...let me guess... It was just a grumpy entity doing some shenanigans?"  We had a good laugh and headed down stairs for the last stand.

When he came home from school, my 7-year old client ran under the table screaming. He didn't want to see me.  He proceeded to cage himself in with four chairs locking himself under the table.  I slowly walked to the kitchen so that he and I were separated by a the breakfast bar and said smiling, "Hi.  My name is Natalie Griffin and I am a Shaman.  Let me tell you a secret..."  The boy interrupted me and screamed, "I don't want any more secrets, you lie!! You all lie! No!! I'll never talk to you!" And then he growled like a feral dog.  I said, "Ok, a deal then.  You don't have to do anything you don't want to do today.  You don't even have to talk to me.  I'll leave if you want."  I could see the boy and this thing inside him vying for energy.  I knew the source of what had been plaguing this boy was now removed from the house.  I had the total upper hand and so did the boy.  I walked out of the room and started to pack up, trusting the boy would win this quick battle.  Sure enough, the boy resurfaced and bounded out from under the table and said cheerily, "What are those?"  Pointing to my shiny Extraction Crystals.  I said,  "Just some special stones do you want to touch one?"  His eyes got so big and he said, "Yes!" I grinned and I thought - I bet you do.
Quick as a flash I pulled the remaining mischievious energies out of my client.  Dazed as if he had just woken up, his eyes focused on me and he said, "Hi.  Wow.  Who are you?"  And his mother fell to her knees and wept for joy.  It was done.

I drove 3 hours home that night exhausted, exhilarated and covered in and coughing up fiberglass.   I knew I could never stop doing what I do.  This family had renewed my faith.  I don't tell too many people the details about what I do and even here, I have omitted quite a few things.  But this one needs a voice.  This experience was beautiful because of a family so in love with one another they would do anything to help it heal and feel whole again.  They were so in tune they knew when things were off kilter and they had the intuition to know that some unseen forces were at work and that they had some healing work to do.  Each parent did a healing session and reclaimed playfulness, vision and power for their family.  And the boy reclaimed his body and his playroom.  And the house is filled with light and the attic sealed in an awesome new woven light/kevlar sort of thing I was given by my "peeps".

Now, even reading this, I think to myself - wow.  That is unbelievable.  Nonetheless, we are surrounded by an unseen world that affects us, some of us more than others, but it affects us all in a variety of ways.   It is such a startling concept to people that last week someone that I love mentioned that he thought what I do is silly and not real.  Then I remembered that is what that awful voice in the attic was telling me.  In many ways, that voice in the attic was my voice.  My doubt.  My Shadow.  Despite my occasional doubt, the techniques work.

I got a phone call a few days later and the mother told me that the only way she can explain what happened was that it was a miracle.  She thanked me and said that the change in her son was remarkable - a miracle.  She begged me to never stop doing this work because I was doing God's work. Imagine, me doing God's work.  As audacious as it may sound, I am.  We all are.  I am a person on a divine mission that I can't quite explain with words.  But I know it.  It's important.  And voices in the attic won't stop me.

Printed with client permission 2010.

Natalie GriffinComment