This Wind!
This Wind!
My guide tries to lead me into my self but there is nothing but this wind. The chimes its voice, somehow subsiding so that there is only the steady roar, the pure rush of power, of destruction, can you feel it scour the land? Is it the confusion, the chaos that has descended upon us, oppressive, does it wish to bury me?
Yet, if you lean in a bit, deeper into the self, it starts to subside and there is something underneath it, within it - a steady roar, a guttural chug, a plane?, a motor? starting up, the gears of creation? If you can sit here long enough, if the body can settle enough - some sense of your own profound nature - to the moment at which these internal and external forces start to calibrate, to move in sync.
Dear one, I know it grieves you to watch our world crumble around us, that it feels as if the anger and frustration will overcome us - yet I believe what lies beneath these fierce winds of destruction promises to rebuild us. We are formed more by the forces of struggle than the moments of peace. The moment may ask of us something we do not yet know; but, it is a battle, a type of apocalypse, a complete crumbling. I promise you that we will learn that we are warriors, that we will find the power to rise, and moreover, that we are never too woke to be truly enlightened, never so insecure and fearful that we can’t live fully in the heart, that we will have the ability to discern when it is time to act - the chaos, the confusion, the cruelty - it will not overtake us. Our delusions revealed, we will not forever have to make up the resistance or lean into community, community itself, and living fully in it, will once again become our natural state - possibly the only pieces remaining once this fierce wind has finishing scouring this land.
And, I implore you dear one, when the grief, the anger, the frustration become too much - when it feels impossible to turn away - the support is there, lean back - your, my, our - ancestors are there - this is not merely a trust fall, this is leaning back into the very foundations of creation - that is what will catch you, dear one.
For my self, my soul, my spirit - I am trying to prepare - I have my protectors, just as my ancestors had theirs - the terrier, the hound, the labrador, the retriever - maybe you have one too? And I began inviting my ancestors to this land, setting a place with Rufus - thoughtfully, the manners did, and still do, matter. Despite the dry weather, the creek seems to be flowing stronger there now, in this protected ravine, shelter from and with the elements.
For my part, I’ve begun to put away some supplies, acquired a new hunting rifle, actions maybe more symbolic than practical. But it can be hard to know how to plan for this moment, how to act.
So I hope my ancestors will accept the invitation, that this land, Out Past the Dove Fields, will fulfill its promise - safety, security, rebirth - always continuing its offering of re-creation. Maybe it is time to return to the river, eclipse season is almost upon us, the winds of March blowing open a new portal, a time to step forward.
Dear ones, may this wind blow in hope, may it blow in fortitude, may it sing the song, may it turn the gears, of that which supports you, us - may it prepare the land, this world, for what is needed next.
Good Medicine for troubled times dear brother. A’ȟo. O Mítákuye Oyásíŋ 🦅