Good Morning, Grandfather

As I am getting to know my Pueblo Indian friends, I am becoming aware of a shift in me. I believe that when we’re ready for lessons, our teachers appear. These people are my teachers for a new body of personal work I wasn’t even aware was on the horizon. Knowing them seems to be bringing everything I’ve done, to date, together into a cohesive whole. It’s all making more sense to me and I feel the awareness of my more gentle self, stirring in me. I feel old ways falling away. As though light has shined in the darkness and I’ve seen my potential self, I can no longer be that which used to be. I am being born and these people seem to be my midwives.

I was painting to a CD called The Heart of Healing, Messages and Music for the Human Journey, from Michael Stillwater and Gary Malkin, and a track by Jyoti, caught my attention in a way it never has before. I wanted to share it with you.

“Good morning, Grandfather. I entered this life a ways back and put skin on to walk two-legged in this creation, and what a glorious time it was. It taught me about breath and sense and about feeling and caring through my heart. And I walked on around that red road, looking and trying to understand more about the mystery and the secrets She holds. And you spoke to me through the wind and you sang to me through the birds; and you brought challenges forth so that I might listen to the message you bring me more sincerely. And I kept walking down this road, and I came round the bend, in the middle of that curve in the road, and I began to find a secret in the spirit of myself. And still, I walked on, sometimes blind and deaf and sometimes with pain, but I fought with my fears and I embraced my unknowingness, and still I walked on. And my children and my family stood with me and we came to know each other in those later years more than we had before, once some of our falseness had fallen away. And, still, I walked on. And I kept walking on this road towards you, towards that other world, and closer to me, with each step. And as the door of the Great Spirit world came closer, my fear loomed up inside sometimes, but something called me forth. The morning star rose with each day and my prayer became a centering. And, still, I walked on, until I began to hear the song of the Mother, and her arms embraced me so that, instead of walking, she carried me right to the door. And as the door opened, I heard her song and her song lifted me up so I could soar.”

Through these beautiful, gentle, and wise Taos Pueblo Indian friends, who seem to be infused, still, with the knowing of their ancient ancestors, I am beginning to find a secret in the spirit of myself.