Big wheel keep on turnin’. . .
“No regrets, Coyote. . .”
I recently received an e-mail confirming my reservation for this year’s Sun Moon Dance this coming July. This will be my second year: the direction of the South, the place of emotional healing and standing in our own shadow.
Undoubtedly some would argue that I’m predisposing things by saying this, but lately I’ve been aware of the Mongrel Trickster making his way around the arbor with a swaggering gait and a playful gleam in his eye.
“Come in,” he says, “there’s something I want to show you.”
My first Sun Moon Dance was almost two years ago, just two short weeks after burying my mother. I found her waiting for me in the lean-to after I fell, and she and the spirits of her own mother and father greeted me with kind and loving words.
“I understand,” she said, finally coming to terms with my spiritual path – something she’d struggled with the last few years of her life, although her depression and ill health kept her from focusing on pretty much everything else.
“Thank you for taking care of our daughter,” my grandfather said, extending the rough and calloused hand I’d taken many times as a child.
With that, the three of them turned and walked off together into the light – and I was left with a profound sense of joy expressing itself as cleansing tears and laughter.
This, of course, is only part of my vision. The rest is buried deep within, more a part of me than my own skin.
The arbor calls. Coyote smiles. My feet continue to dance although for now the sacred drum is silent. I can’t begin to fathom what this year’s Sun Moon Dance will have to teach me. I place myself in Spirit’s care, and smile at the sound of the Trickster’s voice in the distance. . .