Shake Shake Shake, Shake Shake Shake

Shake Your Boobies, Shake Your Boobies

Oh hi friends. I didn’t see you sneak in. I was busy singing about mom’s Shaky Medicine weekend she did at Sacred Journeys.

What mom? I don’t care if those aren’t the real words to the song. If I’m singing it, I’m going to sing it the way I want. We’ve talked about you reading over my shoulder. If I have questions, I’ll ask you.

Now what? Oh………..I’m sorry everyone. It’s ShakING Medicine.

Is that all mom? I’m busy writing. OK Mom. Yes, I’ll call you if I need you. Bye…I SAID BYE! Sigh….she’s always in my business.

So mom went to her first ShakING Medicine weekend. She showed me the flyer about it. It said, “You (however “you” define “you”) are hereby cordially invited to attend a weekend of silliness, love and frivolity.”

What do they mean ‘however “you” define “you”?’ I don’t think we ever determined the definition of “is” from 1998 and now we have to define “you!”

So I looked up Shaking Medicine in my dictiominary. It said [shey-king med-uh-sin] noun: See Clothed Orgy

Hey – I’m a little boy. I’m not allowed to know about these things.

Mom said it means wild dancing, singing, drinking often accompanied by licentious revelry. Since mom had never attended before, and she was instructed to bring a blanket, pillow and some poems, just in case I dressed her in a tank top, tee shirt, sweatshirt, three pairs of socks, her down vest, a scarf, two pairs of gloves, slippers and a coat and made a note to email Tio Jonathan about this. Sacred Journeys would never allow this type of behavior in its sacred healing space. Definitely not drinking and licentious revelry!

Professor Bradford Keeney, PhD has authored many books about shaking medicine. On the jacket of his book Shaking Medicine, it reads, “Shaking Medicine reintroduces the oldest medicine on Earth – the ecstatic shaking of the human body. Most people’s worst fear is losing control – of their circumstances, of their emotions, and especially of their bodies. Yet in order to achieve the transcendent state necessary to experience deep healing, we must surrender control. Examining cultural traditions from around the world where shaking has been used as a form of healing – from the Shakers and Quakers of New England to the shaking medicine of Japan, India, the Caribbean, the Kalahari, and the Indian Shakers of the Pacific Northwest — Bradford Keeney shows how shaking can bring profound therapeutic benefits.

Someone else wrote, “To move is to live.” Now that I understand. You gotta keep it simple.

I heard all of my people were there for the weekend. There was Ms. Joann, who saw me for my separation anxiety issues; my Aunt Elly, who makes my ickies go away; Aunt Elly’s husband, Uncle Neal, my official photographer who shot my Christmas card photos and my Uncle Tio Jonathan, who gives me snuggles and healing when I visit him and lets me water his plants in the garden.

Some of you may have seen these photos before and I’m posting them for my new shaking friends.

Aunt Elly, we need to take a better snuggle picture next time.

These are some photos that Uncle Neal took. I don’t know how he got me to sit still and smile so much. He’s magical!

And the one that will make you smile all the time…………

Yep, everyone on Team Pugsley was there this weekend. No wait………..

Do you know who wasn’t there?

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PUGSLEY!

What’s up with that Unc.?

Mom said people were writhing on the floor, limbs intertwined, deep primal screams emanating from their diaphragms, and their eyes were rolling in the back of their heads and there was crying…….lots of crying.

Aunt Shari and Uncle Jonathan, you might want to rethink how you handle mealtimes from now on. Maybe you could feed people more often.

This doesn’t sound like any lunch line I want to witness let alone stand in to get my meal.

Mom said special eaters got to eat first. You know, the gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, and vegetarian people. No wonder people were wrestling on the floor. All the carnivores were gnawing each other’s fingers. And they say animals stalk and ambush their prey when they’re hungry. Unc, couldn’t the vegetarians graze in the yard on some bark and nuts so that the meat-eaters could go first? It sounds like people could lose some digits while they’re waiting. I’m glad I wasn’t there. I don’t like vegetarian kibble. I’m so happy that I instructed mom to pick up a hoagie from Wawa. She would have docked my allowance if she had nothing to eat. If I register for the next Shake, mom will have to get me a regular kibble hoagie when she gets her turkey hoagie. She said lunches were great because they had real samiches. Dinners were a little rough for her. They served edamame, quinoa, black rice, squash and lots of other vegetables. Unc, that’s not food; that’s the stuff that food eats. I’m just sayin….

My mom taught me the song that Carrie and Joel taught them.

I keep on living on the skin of the sun with the one in the warm drum

Pa rum pa pum pum rum pa pa pum pum pa pum ummmm ummmm

Ummmm, I don’t think that’s right.

Note to self: Ask mom about the song again and get earplugs for when she sings it.

Mom didn’t stay at the hotel with the others because she didn’t want to send me to camp for the weekend. Boo! I love forming circles of love at my camp. The last time we had Chloe, Scooter, Sarge, Tallulah, Muffin, Princess and Max. Our counselors don’t let us intermingle for extended periods of time in the play yard. I’ll have to teach the kids about this next time and maybe we can sneak off to do our shaking. Giggle snort.

I registered my mom for the weekend and when she came home Friday night she asked, “WTF was that?” (I’m not allowed to say that phrase on my own. I’m just repeating what she said.) I thought I was going to be in timeout forever. She came home late Saturday night and said the day was great and the talent show they had that night was hilarious. She can’t remember laughing so much. Boy am I lucky. She woke up Sunday morning and asked when muscles she didn’t know she had appeared and why they hurt. Mom, maybe you should stretch before you shake next time.

Did that sound weird to anyone else? It sounded much better in my head.

My mom said this was the first circle in which she’s ever been a part where everyone was loving and accepting of everyone else’s ickies. They were especially welcoming to the newbies like my mom. She loved the music and dancing, the drums and the unconditional love. At night we danced before bedtime so that I wouldn’t feel left out and she could spread the healing energy onto me. My tail was shaking up a storm! It was difficult to take a selfie while we were dancing. Sorry friends!

One of the shakers, Mike, shared a poem he found on the Woman Within Facebook page. I’m reposting it here. This says what I can’t possibly say about Shaking Medicine.

We have come to Be Danced

Not the pretty Dance

Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me Dance

But the claw our way back into the belly of the Sacred, Sensual Animal Dance

The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box Dance

The holding the precious moment in the palms of our hands and feet Dance

We have come to Be Danced

Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him Dance

But the wring the sadness from our skin Dance

The Blow the chip off our shoulder Dance.

The slap the apology from our posture Dance

We have come to Be Danced

Not the monkey see, monkey do Dance

One two dance like you

One two three, dance like me Dance

but the grave robber, tomb stalker tearing scabs and scars open Dance

The rub the Rhythm Raw against our Soul Dance

We have come to Be Danced

Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle

But the matted hair flying, Voodoo Mama

Shaman Shakin’ Ancient Bones Dance

The strip us from our casings, Return our Wings

Sharpen our Claws and Tongues Dance

The Shed Dead Cells and slip into the Luminous Skin of Love Dance

We have Come to Be Danced

Not the hold our breath wallow in the shallow end of the floor Dance

But the Meeting of the Trinity, the Body Breath and Beat Dance

The Shout Hallelujah from the top of our Thighs Dance

The Mother may I?

Yes you may take 10 giant Leaps Dance

The olly olly oxen free free free Dance

The everyone can come to our Heaven Dance

We have come to Be Danced

Where the Kingdom’s Collide in the Cathedral of Flesh

To Burn Back into the Light

To unravel, to Play, to Fly, to Pray

To root in skin sanctuary

We have come to Be Danced

We Have Come.

— Jewel Mathieson

Jewel Mathieson 5Rhythms WordDance

Whoa……….That must have been one wild anything goes and is accepted, let loose your grief, fears, shame, unworthiness, unhealthy and unproductive patterns and behaviors and open your heart and let in the love and the joy weekend!

Are we back in the 70s and no one told me?

When the workshop ended, a bunch of shakers shook on over to Red Robin for burgers, bottomless french fries and bottomless root beer floats. Now that’s REAL food!

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words………and apparently calories.

Mom just reminded me to talk about Andy, the workshop facilitator. I almost forgot.

So even though the weekend was held at Sacred Journeys, it was facilitated by Andrew McClure. Mom said he’s cool and funny and doesn’t take himself too seriously. We like that about people. His bio says he’s a teacher, writer, poet and artist and has been teaching aesthetic craziness for nearly 20 years. Mom says I excel at crazy. Andy, I’m an artist too. Uncle Jonathan calls me Pugcasso. Check out my artwork from my May 16, 2013 post.

WAIT A MINUTE!

HOLD THE PHONE!

STOP THE PRESSES!

DO NOT PASS GO AND DEFINITELY DO NOT COLLECT $200!!!

I just Googled Andy and found out that he’s from TORONTO. That’s in CANADA! Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s as clear as day….

He’s part of some Canadian government plot to keep our Olympic hockey teams down and win back their Ice Dancing gold medal. He comes into the US with his shaking, his story-telling, his hugging, accepting and loooove and all the while he’s transmitting subliminal messages that will end up on our ice rinks so that the Canadians can continue to beat us in South Korea in four years.

No No No Mr. McClure. It’s not going to work. Pugsley’s got your number now!

What mom?

Just because I’m a conspiracy theorist doesn’t mean it’s not true!

Someone has to stop this madness. Mom, where’s my backpack? I’m going to shake myself down to Washington, DC. Someone has to post Andy’s photo at all the border crossings.

Look Aunt Elly – I have a new job!

Love, Pugsley