Grandfather says go your way and I will remember you, love you as you are.
When he walked away it was because I had gone from him first, and I swore he had left me.
Forgive me Grandfather, for leaving you alone. You were the one who knew me.
We abandon the elders and when they die we miss them. It is right to go out on our own, it is the way. But, every once in awhile, visit Grandfather, Grandmother and ask for the story. This way you will not forget. In such a way you can go in a way that is right and good............for your grandchildren.

Silent witness. The trees are with me Grandfather. Together we watch the world and wonder. I remember a time in Canada when Earth Woman taught me how to gather cedar boughs for the lodge. We talked to the Cedars that day and I heard them answer. I long for that once again Grandfather.

Tell me the story again about the Northern Lights and how afraid you were. What we don't know scares us, doesn't it, Grandfather? Tell me once again so that my own fear does not shame me. It reminds me to be real.

Grandfathers Dancing. Grandmothers singing. You can hear them in the distance if you listen now. When our worlds overlap for that one instant, that moment, you may hear the answer to your question, but be careful not to drown it out with your own words.............thoughts.

You can't think you way out, here. You can dance your way out. You can sing your way forward. The waters of the earth will help.............the stars will shine it bigger for you. When you think too much it's like standing in the center of the place where winds cross. They whip you this way and that and no direction feels right, there is resistance everywhere.

Grandfathers Dance. Grandmothers sing. Join them and forget the walk for now. The answer is in the Dancing. The answers are in the singing.

It is a good day to die.

Do you hear it? Fruits groan on the trees before they fall. There is a great song of it now and as the fruits fall onto the Mother they make a beating like a great drum. I listen and want to remember what it is not to be hungry in the depth of the winter snows. Grandmother thank you for feeding us so full.

Grandfather spoke close today. Locust song of death reminds us to gather what we can now. There are languages not spoken here, words that are incongruous in the morning glory. If the sun stays in the sky and the water in the seas, then there is the promise that I will someday understand. One thing is clear: Forgiveness must begin now. And in earnest.

the world is acting "as if" and all the time
behind the veils. what is growing will be aborted before it comes
to fruition or to birthing.

All waiting for.............what, exactly?

The world is acting "as if" and I can hear the far away Rattle of the GhostDancers.

Who is to say if "as if" is as it is and always has been?

I will ask the Rattle Dancers. I will ask Grandfather. I hear him now across the veils and he says "wait". And he can see better than I.

Stories

Stories passed from grandmother to granddaughter. The story changes, like a curve on the line of time and yet the meaning remains. Who changes the story lives the change. Tell the stories of your grandmother. Tell the stories of your grandfather. It will sustain you in these times.
Always, always, walk in beauty