Voices in the sky. . .
“Nightingale, hovering high
Harmonize the wind
Darkness, your symphony
I can hear you sing
Of voices in the sky”
-The Moody Blues
It’s ten minutes to four. I’m awake simply because I’ve no further need for sleeping. I’m out in the back yard standing by the garden in the pre-dawn humidity. It feels good to be among green things. I feel their energy, and I am keenly aware of their growing.
Just beyond the garden, a single small boulder marks the center of what will be our medicine wheel. It lends a purpose to the space; makes it sacred. The stone is rather plain, but commands attention. It is shaped like the head of a bear, its snout pointed towards the west. I enter the space. The freshly cut grass feels good beneath my feet, and I am immediately in the presence of something powerful and familiar.
Turning eastward, I raise my hands to the sky and ask, “What would you have me do today, Great Spirit?”
A single word comes back to me on the wind:
The voice fades; mingles with the distant songs of morning birds, the mechanical growl of an automobile engine. The neighborhood it seems, is waking up…