About Polly Behringer

I didn't know my path would lead me to here... When I first began my journey, it was copying moves I've seen. It was the silent meditation of my father sitting in a chair staring out his bedroom window. I knew he struggled with the aftermath of his youth and then the Vietnam War. I inherited books from my parents; a series from the author Kahil Gibran, self-help like What Color is Your Parachute and an endless supply of books on understanding dreams, tapping into lucid dreaming and remote viewing.

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When I was around the age of five, we were living in the Philippines. Clark Air Base was still a military base. I lived in a large community home on a street between two schools with my family,  my aunt and her three daughters (my cousins) and sometimes other relatives. Over the course of three days, I woke up with blood pooled and dried coming from first my nose, then my nose, eyes and mouth... and then my ears. My mother a devote catholic took me to see a female shaman, a witch-doctor, in a nearby mountain; instead of the base hospital. 

Female shamans in the filipino culture are called Babaylans. There are only two ways of becoming one; you either apprentice under a known and skilled babaylan or you are chosen through a shamanic (unexplained) illness. I don't remember much after meeting the doctor. I remember the dirt floor of the hut, the elixir she said was rain water and the bamboo walls of the hut. After this encounter, I began my own shamanic walk as a babaylan with the all the gifts and abilities that come with being spiritually chosen.