"I have heard of flying with wings; I have never heard of flying without wings." You know our truth always seems to be constantly changing because I have heard about flying without wings. In today’s age, I guess Confucius would have to say, “I have heard of flying with energy; I have never heard of flying without energy.” And I guess that goes for dancing too because I’ve never heard of energy being destroyed… even by the spirit of things or ravens or people (from sage to lunatic) like you and me.
And with this thought I drove to greet my sisters who had arrived for my “life dance” that I was going to perform the coming Sunday. The dance was now only a couple days away. And upon my sisters' arrival to Cincinnati, I quickly took them to a place high up on a hill. We came to rest at a place called Woodpecker Chapel.
At the Chapel I showed them all that the Great Creator had made. The trees that gave us shade, “Look at the detail in that woodwork,” I said to them. I also pointed out the blue endless ceiling of the sky above us also made by the Great Creator.
My sisters then sat on a small bench as I arranged the rocks into a medicine wheel. I then stood on the center rock and called to my sister Sally. I gave her spirit retrieval and a new name. I then did the same to my sister, Rose, and then to my sister, Mary Lou. And after a couple jokes and a song from my flute, we sat and talked of the Spirit of Life, as squirrels jumped from tree to tree and the wind blew every time Water In Her Eyes spoke.
And when we left the chapel, Dancing Squirrel gave me a woodpecker feather that she had found outside the medicine wheel. Water In Her Eyes gave me a new flute given to her by her deceased daughter, Michelle, who was very much with us, on the hill.
Two days later, I stood in the center of Main Street in Cincinnati with my bear mask on, a turtle shield in my hand, moccasins on my feet, and my serpentine shirt on. I thanked the Great Spirit for bringing my sisters to me, I poured out the salt onto the street from my brown paper bag. The salt was from anyone who needed something (a problem, issue, addiction) to be let loose to heal. Earlier in the day I asked people to grab a handful of the salt and place it in the bag.
I also grabbed a handful of salt thinking of an old childhood friend of mine, Tony, who killed himself the week I was preparing for the dance. He was a Cherokee Indian and his brother is the father of a sister’s child.
I remembered Tony as a kid in Chicago, as Tony’s home had a tree that grew into the house, which slanted his kitchen floor. He was one of the fastest kids I ever knew. He could run like the wind. Don’t really know where his life went haywire, but like a lot of childhood friends we just seemed to lose touch. When I would see Tony’s brother visiting his daughter, he never liked to speak about him. I just hope they healed whatever rift was going on before Tony’s final act of desperation. But the biggest thing I remember about Tony was his smile. It was bright. And with that thought I held the salt in my hand and asked Tony to join me in my dance. I then tossed the salt in the brown bag with all the other hopes of others and then I dumped it on the street below me.
I then stood on the salt, in the center of Main Street, and I watched as the drummers marched toward me. A group of spectators sat under canopies. And when the drummers arrived where I was standing on the street, they made a half circle around me. It is then I began the dance to the beating of their drums. My feet trampled the salt below me into dust. And all the while I danced… dancing to the call of the transformation, dancing to the call of healing, dancing to the warmth of the sun, and into the shadow on the earth, and to the clouds that began to move in.
Water In Her Eyes briefly danced with me, dancing to the Spirit of a new day and for a moment there was a balance. I ended the dance by giving it a final name, naming it the calling of the Blue Kachina. I then removed the bear mask, as another sister, Horse with White Hair, gave me a feather she had found while praying. I then played El Condor Pasa on my Cree flute.
I blew into that Cree flute as the winds began to pick up, and before we knew it, canopies began to fly off their bases. And when I hit the last note to the song El Condor Pasa, a person was hit by a canopy and knocked out — the fire department was called. Everyone there began to assemble their belongings to go home. And as the winds became stronger the electrical grid system was knocked out for everyone in Cincinnati. The winds brought me to laugh at death and I embraced my sisters goodbye as we gave each a fond farewell.
I returned home to a tree that had fallen from the wind that was still blowing hard and I picked up a big branch and raised it up in the air. I asked the Great Spirit to show me what it had. And a strong wind blew, it turned me around, and then knocked me hard to the ground. I arose to my feet and laughed again into the wind. And the winds blew hard for hours and I stood in awe of the power of the Spirit of the Wind…
After the winds died down, I took a walk through a neighborhood with a friend. Fallen trees and branches were everywhere. But the people were everywhere too. All the T.V.s and technology were off. People were sitting out on their porches. They were out talking to their neighbors. They were all helping each other out. From the old, to the young, I never had seen such a beautiful sight.
When night came, my daughter’s boyfriend and I sat by a fire of neighbors that had gathered. They were using the wood that from a fallen tree in their back yard. They were sitting in the front yard and were very warm and welcoming. And we all laughed and told jokes while talking about the wind storm that had just blown in and someone then mentioned, “You know Ike means laughter.” And I thought for healing, as laughter is the best medicine and is best done when not alone.
Later that night my friend, Mary, and I sat in dark night without street lights and sang a song of a harvest moon that would show itself every now and again through the clouds. It felt good to celebrate life over death with people I knew and strangers were strangers no longer. It felt good to dance and sing and laugh and embrace. It felt good to stand and to be knocked down by power of Spirit Wind, only to rise again.
The whole day felt so good, as I thought that sometimes the wind blows to rid us of our week branches, sometimes it blows to give us music, and sometimes it blows to make us stronger.
It was once written, “Hence, the mystics' truth: your personal journey has cosmic significance. As we integrate more and more of reality through the power of our attention, our choices inevitably shift to make sense given what is real. When we allow ourselves to experience the emotional truth of the way we relate to what is, we can no longer live oblivious to the impact of our choices. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Image by Cheo70, courtesy of Creative Commons license.
