Sunday, February 9, 2014

Book Spotlight: Soul Skin by Jan Porter

Soul Skin 
1000 lifetimes, 1000 sacred dream journeys

Author: Jan I. Porter
Paperback: 586 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (December 21, 2013)
Amazon Link

Synopsis:

Midlife crisis Navi communes with her dead Grandmother and a mysterious soul skin man. Doomed to marital heartbreak, she clumsily follows a shamanic path; all the while coping with a child’s cancer, spirit world intrusion, church doctrine, menopause, a dark shadow nemesis, and job loss. All of these, rudely slamming her into a dark night of the soul. Sacred ancient sisterhood teachings via dream journeys ensue in a Nazi death camp, a pre-civil war deep south, early indigenous North America, and as Joan of Arc. Also, as audience with Lord Byron and as a wolf mate. Navi explores life in a thought provoking and amusing commentary of social, cultural and religious ideals, all stirring controversy. It is the love of daughter, Gran, nature and soul skin man that carries her forward.

Excerpt


“Moist wet fog wavered. Close by, light puffing sounds of Crazy Annie igniting her corncob pipe, followed by her distinctive tobacco herb mixture aroma. 

“Hi Annie.”

“Aye, good day my friend.”

Late evening after heavy rainfall began to clear, Navi stood in her back yard, Annie’s back yard in her time and era. Un-manicured lawn exposed an herb and vegetable garden before rugged wilderness, trees in a thousand shades of green, shimmering with new spring life and fresh rain. A gateway path entrance of two intertwined spruce, beckoned the forest beyond. A crow cawed in distant stillness. Navi turned her head upward, breathing in the fresh spring air, clean, crisp, moist and filled with smells of the earth. From behind, a gentle lapping of waves spilled and splashed against the rocky lake shoreline. From the ridge, a lone wolf’s howl summoned to its mate. To the left, a campfire crackle, a metal pot slid over a rough granite table. Comforted in majestic wilderness stillness and Annie’s company, Navi smiled; turned her head upward, tongue protruding outward, catching the moisture of a fine wet mist, cool and fresh. Metal pot clanged, the sizzling snap of food frying over a hot fire, followed by the flavorful aroma of fresh lake fish cooking in herbed spices.

Joining Annie aside the campfire, “May I assist you my friend?”

“This day you are my guest. Sit. We shall chat awhile, and eat in blessed company and gratitude.”

“As you wish, but please, don’t hesitate to ask, I am happy to help. I am happy to see you.”

“Are you dreaming?”

“I think so.”

“As a child, an old Choctaw woman once told me that there were four different kinds of dreams. Each has its own way of offering a teaching, or not. Some of the old most common dreams came when one slept, the ancestors and animal kingdom showing the way to provide food, make tools and acquire the necessities of sustaining earthly life. Nonsense dreams are bits and pieces that leave one feeling un-rested without insight or information that would aid daily or spiritual life. Wish dreams reflect one’s desires unfulfilled. These tell you that you are wishing for, rather than living for. Wishes are always about soul and heart longings; for a soul path to go unfulfilled, and if it is about love, it goes un-requited.”

Annie removed the fry pot, scooped out the fish, with a hodge-podge of root vegetables, wrapped it in a fresh wet leaf bundle and tucked inside the fire pit between rock circle enclosure and hot coals. Two weathered bone china teacups filled with fresh hot chicory coffee blend, she handed one to Navi, motioning cheers. Sitting back, lifting multi-colored skirt away from muddy worn work boots, she flicked a match and re-lit her corncob pipe, puffing, contemplative. Reaching into her skirt waist, she removed a small leather pouch and unraveled it, revealing four hand-rolled cigarettes, and handed the bundle to Navi. Smiling in gratitude, loosening her own old shawl, she picked one out, as Annie readied another match. Warmed by the fire, Annie slid her hooded shawl back onto her shoulders; revealing dark graying hair tied loosely in a bun, setting bang tendrils free and curling around ancient laser beam eyes. 

“Medicine dreams, your journey dreams, are sacred. Sacred dreamtime journeys teach of the spirit world, the universe and other realities. All exist right now, as a part of the whole. Oft your spirit body wanders, looking for solutions, aiding others, touching and communing with soul mates, or travelling to distant stars.

You have been wise to keep them to yourself. Accept them as a gift, rather than a curse, for when the time is right, you will share them with the world, share them with those who have the mind to remember their own connection to the all that is. Medicine dreaming aids the receiver in his or her own growth, as an initiation process and evolving spiritual path, but more importantly, when the time is right, aids the future generations. Another gateway offered, for those who are called, will find you and through you, find, remember and open their own connection. They contain many levels of teaching, most of which will be assimilated and integrated unconsciously.

Here in dreamtime, you find many spirit soul mates, yet in your day-to-day waking earthly life, these soul mates are living out a different agenda and you may not congeal, yet you remain tethered together through eternity, in a love bond. A sacred dreamer is an old soul, a master who has held thousands of lifetimes, all on behalf of a higher agenda and greater plan. A sacred dreamer is a prophet, seer, sensitive, diviner, mystic, shaman, medicine healer, teacher, nurturer and holy woman.” 

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