By David Williams
Key Themes: Mental Health, Mental Illness, Shamanism, Spirituality, True Story, Bipolar
On 7/7/2005 the Celtic Shaman was sitting outside a Coffeeshop in Amsterdam, self medicating his intrusive thoughts and depression with cannabis when the images from London came through. He stood in a trance looking at the TV screen. The bombs that went off in London that day triggered an explosion in David's mind. For the next month he was to undergo a Spiritual Emergency, a Shamanic Trance Journey, which saw him being assaulted by the Dutch police, being arrested for hanging off the seventh floor of a Central Hotel, flying home to the UK to file an official complaint against the Dutch Police Force, fly back to the Netherlands to be arrested a further two times before landing up in Jail.
God was trying to tell David something. This is his story.
About the Author
David Williams aka the Celtic Shaman was born on St David's Day 1966.
He was a bin man and council gardener, went to University as a Mature Student and became a Youth worker and then a Secondary School Teacher.
In January 2006 he was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder. He is now Artistic Director of the Red Button Theatre and Film Co-operative. His mission statement is to help the dispossessed and the disenfranchised tell their stories through Community Theatre. His Monologues 'The Lost Souls' Launderette' were performed at the Millennium Centre in Cardiff in 2010 five years exactly after finding God in his prison cell in Amsterdam. This is his story.
Back in the UK!
I needed some time to filter information, or so I thought. The Celtic Shaman endured a painful physical ordeal designed to separate the mind from the body in terms which invite comparison with the mystical experience. I booked a very expensive flight back from a travel agent and thought I would hire a car into the bargain. Arenít these credit cards just wonderful when youíre manic?
The reason I chose this Travel Agent over any other was because they had taken time over their window display. It featured green hats, many of them. Hats that are normally to be found on Germans or Austrians wearing Leiderhosen and drinking Steins. I thought, these guys have gone to some trouble here, ok so it was a bit kitsch but it pulled me into the store and I parted with about 500 euros more for a return ticket than I usually would have done. Yes, you read that right! A return ticket!
I was destined to return to right this wrong that had been perpetrated on my soul.
I flew back into Birmingham Airport, back into soulless depressing Britain and went to look for this car. I had purposefully asked for a small car even though I was grandiose. What greeted me was the biggest, top of the range, Kia car! After having been inspected by Lee and Lance at Eurocar I drove West into the Celtic Sunset.
After visiting family in West Wales who greeted me and waved me goodbye as if they had seen a ghost, I then drove to visit friends in North Wales, London and Cardiff, all the while planning my return to Amsterdam. When I got to Cardiff I decided to take professional advice about the assault on my person at the Manixstrasse and I was advised by a solicitor to lodge a report with a British Police Station. This I duly did.
The following letter was delivered to Butetown Police Station. It was also posted to the British Consulate-General in Amsterdam.
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