This, Too, Shall Pass. . .

During a journey the other day, I found myself in the presence of a circle of Elders.  The air was filled with a heavy sense of purpose.  It was obvious that the Ancient Ones had called me here to stand in the presence of Power.  The oldest Grandfather handed me an Eagle feather, and presented me with a ritual I would need to perform every day for the next 31 days.

Immediately a litany of excuses tore through my mind.  Surely there wasn’t enough time for me to perform the ritual before work.  I get up at 4:00 every day as it is.  And I certainly couldn’t do it after work.  There were books to read for my classes and patients to journey for.  I stood there absolutely powerless as these and other equally invalid objections raced through my head.

The feather was taken away as quickly as it had been offered.  The Elders continued watching me without judgment. Next an ornate wooden cup was placed on the ground before me.  The cup was filled with a shiny liquid, so black it reflected everything in the lodge.  Without hesitation I took the cup and raised it to my lips, draining it nearly to the bottom.  I emptied the remaining liquid upon the ground as an offering to Spirit, and I heard the voice of the Elder who’d initially handed me the feather.

“The path of the Visionary is not for you.  Instead, you will walk the path of the Healer.” 

Upon hearing these words, I was filled with a sense of place.  There was no regret at my initial resistance to the offering of the feather and its required rituals.  Instead, I felt as if I’d finally arrived.  I knew now the direction my life would take, and for the first time, I felt my spirit exhale.

I thanked them for their teachings, and left them with gifts of food, tobacco, skins, and a sacred pipe.

During a second journey that day I was given a healing song by an Ancestor Spirit.  The Elders, it seemed, had more than made good on their word.

As the week wore on, this sense of purpose continued, and I began to feel detached from the usual distractions around me.  It was as if I’d left a good portion of my attention “over there”.

Enter: Coyote.

In his breakneck, howling, and often infuriating way, Coyote invites us to dance with the darkness of our souls.  His tauntings and misdirections often flood those murkier parts of ourselves with the light of our own awareness; calling upon us to examine them closely, and challenging us to accept these things as part and parcel of who and what we are.

Last Saturday, the Ragged-Assed One decided to send me a teaching in my dreams.  I was standing in the bathroom, and discovered that I had blood in my urine.  I decided to ignore it, but further attempts yielded the same results. As I couldn’t deny it any further, I instead decided to pay attention to it, and immediately observed the swirls of red and yellow blending together.

I awoke, writing it off as a “crazy dream”.  Yet something about it had unsettled me to the point where I found myself snapping at my wife. There was no logical reason for my outburst.  We hadn’t argued or found ourselves at odds in any way.

No, this energy was flowing from a deeper source.

As I tried to push it aside, a rage welled up inside me, followed by a heavy sense of confusion as to where it was coming from.  Finally, unable to locate the source of this emotion, I decided it would be better off if I just embraced it and sat with it for a while.

In that moment, the dream came rushing back.  Yellow: the color of the East, and place of vision.   Red: the color of the South, and place of emotion.   Coyote was showing me that regardless of everything I’d learned about myself in the last few days, I wasn’t ready to move on just yet.  And that even though I’d been given a vision of the purpose of my life, there was a darker, emotional part of me that couldn’t be ignored; and that struggling against it would only lead to greater consternation.

I thanked Coyote for his teaching; and laughed at the earthiness of his dream. In his own visceral way, the Mongrel Trickster was telling me that all I could do was accept this part of myself, and that in the end, this difficulty would pass. . .

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2 Responses to “This, Too, Shall Pass. . .”

  1. Those are powerful journeys! Thank you for sharing.

    Like

  2. Thanks for stopping by.

    Like

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