Recently I visited my sister Carolyn who lives near Pittsburgh. I had sent my flute on ahead, as well as some sacred herbs for blessings of heart and hearth. One day we visited a small lake in the city that has been a welcome refuge for her and our father. The sun was brilliant, and it was getting hot, but there were bountiful clouds to temper the heat. As we sat on her favorite bench near the water, I took out my flute.
In anticipation, I leaned in close to Carolyn and whispered,
“Watch the clouds…”.
I began to play a melody I have played many times before. The gentle notes crossed the water from bank to bank, and returned softly to us again. The lake fell quiet and still all around. No voices or sounds of traffic intruded.
The first thing we noticed were the fish.
Where they had been still and out of sight in the deeper water, they came forward to the edge where we were, into the shallows, breaking the water. More and more fish came, large ones, turning in the shallows, catching and reflecting the sunlight.
Then the second thing happened.
The clouds above slowly became thinner, opening to the blue sky. After a few minutes, there were no more clouds above the lake, like a tracing of it had been drawn into the sky. Where the water turned a bend out of sight, so too did the window above the lake. The abundant sunlight poured down on us.
And then a third remarkable thing.
After I had laid my flute down and stillness returned, a couple walked up from behind, from the woods nearby. They were gray with years, and the gentleman walked with a cane and a limp.
They were delightful spirits, full of joy and enthusiasm for life. They shared stories from their lives around the world as if we were old friends. Stories of sadness and suffering, or of the wonder of convergences and synchronicities. They shared that, just like our own parents, they had only known each other for days before they were married, sixty years ago. They mirrored our mother and father in many ways.
I had in fact traveled there to lighten our father’s burden in his time of transition.
Our exchange was a celebration of brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, husbands and wives. Of stories that honored the choices and sacrifices of family and the others whose lives are touched by them. Of the power and grace of giving.
A half hour had passed before we said a sweet farewell, with a parting embrace, and promises to stay in touch. Then they walked off again into the woods, as thin as ghosts.
Within the remaining quiet, squinting in the sun, Carolyn leaned close in to me and whispered,
“…This never happens here.”
…
Below is another beautiful example of transformation and affirmation.
Jackie Bird, a Mandan-Hidatsa-Lakota singer and dancer is sharing her song “To Fly” with a gathering. Her accompanist, Lakota Chief Golden Light Eagle, is recording her on a cellphone and turns his attention to the clouds above.
At first there is nothing in sight but the clouds. But then an eagle appears beneath, soaring into open sky. Then as we watch, drifting slowly down out of the clouds, are scores of eagles!
You can hear Chief Golden Light Eagle laughing at the wonderful sight unfolding above.
The eagle is a carrier of prayers, a living bridge to the Sun.
In Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire, these affirmations spring from relationships cultivated and honored, singly or in groups, by loving, like-minded people. The Elementals are our companions on this path. And like the eagle, we too are bridges. And the Earth, our Mother, a loving partner in the waking dream…
May our every step be a prayer.
Tanyan omani yelo.
