Sunday, October 18, 2009
A close friend of mine is on her last day of a vision quest. I have not seen her in the flesh since Thursday, but my heart has followed her every breath. It has -- mercifully -- not rained since she began. At least not here. And the last two days have even been sunny, though colder than we've been having since last winter, which means that the nights are cold, indeed.
I worried at first.
"Is she warm enough?" I asked the sky.
The sky responded, "She never minds the cold." And I know this is true.
I have sung to the Universe for her and helped with all the other spirits who walk this with her to lift her up onto the altar of her resolve. I have sent her the strength I have to spare and trust her will to do the rest.
At one point, as I was walking outside, a stone that had been calling to me for weeks said, "Pick me up."
This happens to me sometimes. Not often. Even rarely. But from time to time over the years, what I've been told are Grandfather stones call out to me and I now have seventeen of them in a circle. They talk to each other about how I'm doing and what I should do and how to get me to do it.
The stone that called to me Friday morning is slightly larger than most of the others, smooth and flat and softly gray, like a cloud not full of water yet, but thinking about it. When I brought it in, I laid it in the middle of the circle of the other stones, something I'd never done before. A while later, it came to me that the stone represents my friend and placing it in the circle has surrounded her with my grandfathers while she dreams.
Last night, walking through the living room, I saw her lying on her side on my couch, warm and safe and oblivious to anything but her unfolding.
When she comes back to us, I will see her again with my eyes. I have thought much about what gift to give her on her return, what token to mark the journey she has walked this amazing weekend. And it turns out that it is this post (after so long not writing), this poem -- to her, to all women who walk the old ways, to friendship and sisterhood and love between all of us who long to be a part of the healing of our planet, our people, and ourselves.
May the vision you sought and found (I'm sure), my sister, continue to teach and guide you all the rest of your days on Mother Earth, feeding and sustaining your soul as you teach the rest of us what we come to you to learn.
The sun is rising now and your spirit rises with it, as I knew it would. God in me recognizes God in you. Thank you for being who you are.