Before my tears had dried, or even stopped flowing, before I had hit “send” on the reply to the email that brought me the news, seemingly before I had even asked the question, I knew the answer in my heart. Horse hair.
Seeing video clips of Winona Laduke and other women and men on horseback, raising tipis, setting up camp on the mall in Washington, D.C., a rush of blending energies surged through me and I wept because I want to be there, on my horse, though I get homesick when I leave Vermont or even my land for long, and because I want no one to have to be there protesting the rape of the Earth and genocide of Her children again and again. I knew as I watched the proud footage of cowboy hats and feathered headdresses parading through the streets together that somehow, I would be there, I would contribute something to this great and terrible gathering of unlikely allies.
Seeing video clips of Winona Laduke and other women and men on horseback, raising tipis, setting up camp on the mall in Washington, D.C., a rush of blending energies surged through me and I wept because I want to be there, on my horse, though I get homesick when I leave Vermont or even my land for long, and because I want no one to have to be there protesting the rape of the Earth and genocide of Her children again and again. I knew as I watched the proud footage of cowboy hats and feathered headdresses parading through the streets together that somehow, I would be there, I would contribute something to this great and terrible gathering of unlikely allies.
Thanking my friend, Jo, for the email forwarded from Idle No More, I asked if she would take something from this land, from me and my family of humans and other creatures, from our homestead and community, take something to D.C. this weekend (and of course, she will!). But for some reason – probably secular patriarchal conditioning just to take a guess; I'm still recovering – I seem to have this divine guidance process backwards sometimes. I seem to think that I get an idea, decide to ask for divine guidance, pick a time and place, prepare myself, hope I'm worthy/open/grounded/asking correctly/have the right question in the first place, and then hope that whomever I'm praying to hears me, and that I might get an answer. That's all backwards.
In reality, I am given the prompt first, maybe partly because I am open to receiving them, partly because I do practice honing my intuition, partly because the spirits may be so tired of our shenanigans that they'd be willing to knock us over the head to get the message through. The Goddess calls me, not the other way around – duh! Anyway, I realize I'm experiencing something deep and sacred, and I respond by thinking, Yes, I can do something with this energy, but what? And basically before the words have formed in my mind and I'm still thinking I should really spend more time meditating, I have downloaded the answer. It's so quick it's almost anti-climactic at times. Well, I can still do the ritual, even if the answer was that simple. Maybe I'll get more details. And so it evolves.
Sure enough, the answer – or at least the first clue – was horse hair. I knew when I saw those people sitting snugly on their horses that I would need to go out to the barn to consult with my horse about this, because he's not just a pet, none of our animals is. I respect their wisdom, even if we don't always understand each other's language (me: if you didn't poop in the stall, it would smell better in here; him: hehehehe, get the pitchfork, and I'll take some more hay while you're at it).
And I knew this was serious business. I love festivities, I love powwows, I love parades, I love demonstrations, even if I hate what they're protesting, and I seriously, deeply love unlikely alliances. Irony is my favorite. That's why I am so thrilled to be involved in interfaith work that is truly crossing all the borders at the Climate, Faith, Our Children's Future symposium in August. But cowboys and Indians - how cool is that? The only thing more amazing and alluring to me than the power of setting aside centuries of conflict and oppression for the survival of our planet and possibly our species is that both groups are on horseback! And there is nothing that has been dearer to my heart for more of my life than horses, despite the fact that Sunny is the first one to be truly my own. It took me 35 years, but I can now personally advise anyone: don't ever give up on your dream!
So I trundled out to the barn (really just a run-in shed with stall dividers, paddocks in front and a larger pasture behind), did a few basic chores like carrying water to the cow who just delivered a heifer calf three days ago, and sat down on the straw bale that serves as a goat milking stand. I took off my hat and gloves to allow energy to flow freely and as I breathed out release and protection and breathed in Earth and Spirit energy, I started talking to my horse and to the other animals and to the folks gathered in D.C. and to my friends who will be there and to everyone and all beings, pouring my heart out and more tears for the healing of the web of existence, the bonds that unite us as one human family, the ancestors and children of the future, the land and the stewards of the land, the healers and leaders and courageous protesters and activists who work and fight for transformation.
I acknowledged that snakes are not bad and black is not bad, but this big black snake is bad and we have got to stop it, not only because of our addiction to oil, not only because of the rape of the land and destruction of ancient cultures, not only because of pollution and consumerism and obscene power in the hands of a few, but because this is our chance to unite in the magic generated by enemies reaching across the void of genocide, standing together to proclaim sovereignty, not only for the tribes in the west, but for all of us as children of Earth, for Earth Herself. None of us has a right to defile, degrade or destroy another person, being, culture or planet. Each individual, each community, each ecosystem has its sovereignty, its identity, its own essence and spirit. When we find that sacred jewel in the center of ourselves we have no need to conquer, control or destroy.
I affirmed that we do not wish harm on those who try to force this absurd proposal onto the rest of the world for their immediate material gain and the endless suffering of so many – there has been too much harm already. I prayed for healing for all, for transformation of those who are false, corrupt, violent, not for their punishment. If they choose fear, anger and misery, they exercise their own free will, but we raise this energy for peace, for healing, for well-being all over the planet, for all beings, by the sacred symbol of the cross within the circle, shared by First Nations and Celts alike. It can represent the vertical energy that connects Earth and Spirit and the horizontal energy that unites this world with our human heart in the center, surrounded by the circle of life and unending cycles of time.
Then I began to sing a song of fire and healing, power and freedom, chanting again and again until finally the calf and cow, goat and chicken, even some birds overhead joined in. Only Sunny, my old Quarter Horse was silent. I walked over and greeted him and he stepped past me until I stood just at his tail. I picked up one of the spiraled coppery tresses and began to comb my fingers through the hairs until the loose ones worked their way out. I picked up another and then another, giving him some extra hay in thanks. I picked up a piece of birch bark that must have blown in and found a few more by the gate. Along with some baling twine from the hay, I will braid these in an offering of Epona, the Celtic horse goddess, to send to D.C. as a gift from this land and this community and this woman who is not an Indian or Indian-wannabe, but an American of northern European ancestry in this lifetime, and a Priestess of the Goddess, the North Country and the Sacred Earth.
We white folks have pagan ancestors and deities and symbols and stories too, and we don't need to borrow or steal them from the native people of this continent. We all need to stop denying them and honor our own ancient sacred traditions and the people who dare to reclaim them for today. We can cherish the gifts from our own cultural past as well as owning and healing mistakes and atrocities. And we can share the whole Earth now, as one family, from our own spirit centers.
I thank those who have kept the traditions alive on every continent, the Timekeepers, the holders of the Old Ways. You have survived, and you have brought the stories and the wisdom to this moment, and the world hears your songs and your prayers! There are those of us who are here now and rising because we are ready to carry on the work. We are waking up to both the horror around us and the life force within us, the demons inside us and the beauty that surrounds us. You have held the sacred hoop in your hearts and your lives and we join you in that holy circle of life. We are with you in spirit, on this sacred path. So be it. Aho. Blessed be.
In reality, I am given the prompt first, maybe partly because I am open to receiving them, partly because I do practice honing my intuition, partly because the spirits may be so tired of our shenanigans that they'd be willing to knock us over the head to get the message through. The Goddess calls me, not the other way around – duh! Anyway, I realize I'm experiencing something deep and sacred, and I respond by thinking, Yes, I can do something with this energy, but what? And basically before the words have formed in my mind and I'm still thinking I should really spend more time meditating, I have downloaded the answer. It's so quick it's almost anti-climactic at times. Well, I can still do the ritual, even if the answer was that simple. Maybe I'll get more details. And so it evolves.
Sure enough, the answer – or at least the first clue – was horse hair. I knew when I saw those people sitting snugly on their horses that I would need to go out to the barn to consult with my horse about this, because he's not just a pet, none of our animals is. I respect their wisdom, even if we don't always understand each other's language (me: if you didn't poop in the stall, it would smell better in here; him: hehehehe, get the pitchfork, and I'll take some more hay while you're at it).
And I knew this was serious business. I love festivities, I love powwows, I love parades, I love demonstrations, even if I hate what they're protesting, and I seriously, deeply love unlikely alliances. Irony is my favorite. That's why I am so thrilled to be involved in interfaith work that is truly crossing all the borders at the Climate, Faith, Our Children's Future symposium in August. But cowboys and Indians - how cool is that? The only thing more amazing and alluring to me than the power of setting aside centuries of conflict and oppression for the survival of our planet and possibly our species is that both groups are on horseback! And there is nothing that has been dearer to my heart for more of my life than horses, despite the fact that Sunny is the first one to be truly my own. It took me 35 years, but I can now personally advise anyone: don't ever give up on your dream!
So I trundled out to the barn (really just a run-in shed with stall dividers, paddocks in front and a larger pasture behind), did a few basic chores like carrying water to the cow who just delivered a heifer calf three days ago, and sat down on the straw bale that serves as a goat milking stand. I took off my hat and gloves to allow energy to flow freely and as I breathed out release and protection and breathed in Earth and Spirit energy, I started talking to my horse and to the other animals and to the folks gathered in D.C. and to my friends who will be there and to everyone and all beings, pouring my heart out and more tears for the healing of the web of existence, the bonds that unite us as one human family, the ancestors and children of the future, the land and the stewards of the land, the healers and leaders and courageous protesters and activists who work and fight for transformation.
I acknowledged that snakes are not bad and black is not bad, but this big black snake is bad and we have got to stop it, not only because of our addiction to oil, not only because of the rape of the land and destruction of ancient cultures, not only because of pollution and consumerism and obscene power in the hands of a few, but because this is our chance to unite in the magic generated by enemies reaching across the void of genocide, standing together to proclaim sovereignty, not only for the tribes in the west, but for all of us as children of Earth, for Earth Herself. None of us has a right to defile, degrade or destroy another person, being, culture or planet. Each individual, each community, each ecosystem has its sovereignty, its identity, its own essence and spirit. When we find that sacred jewel in the center of ourselves we have no need to conquer, control or destroy.
I affirmed that we do not wish harm on those who try to force this absurd proposal onto the rest of the world for their immediate material gain and the endless suffering of so many – there has been too much harm already. I prayed for healing for all, for transformation of those who are false, corrupt, violent, not for their punishment. If they choose fear, anger and misery, they exercise their own free will, but we raise this energy for peace, for healing, for well-being all over the planet, for all beings, by the sacred symbol of the cross within the circle, shared by First Nations and Celts alike. It can represent the vertical energy that connects Earth and Spirit and the horizontal energy that unites this world with our human heart in the center, surrounded by the circle of life and unending cycles of time.
Then I began to sing a song of fire and healing, power and freedom, chanting again and again until finally the calf and cow, goat and chicken, even some birds overhead joined in. Only Sunny, my old Quarter Horse was silent. I walked over and greeted him and he stepped past me until I stood just at his tail. I picked up one of the spiraled coppery tresses and began to comb my fingers through the hairs until the loose ones worked their way out. I picked up another and then another, giving him some extra hay in thanks. I picked up a piece of birch bark that must have blown in and found a few more by the gate. Along with some baling twine from the hay, I will braid these in an offering of Epona, the Celtic horse goddess, to send to D.C. as a gift from this land and this community and this woman who is not an Indian or Indian-wannabe, but an American of northern European ancestry in this lifetime, and a Priestess of the Goddess, the North Country and the Sacred Earth.
We white folks have pagan ancestors and deities and symbols and stories too, and we don't need to borrow or steal them from the native people of this continent. We all need to stop denying them and honor our own ancient sacred traditions and the people who dare to reclaim them for today. We can cherish the gifts from our own cultural past as well as owning and healing mistakes and atrocities. And we can share the whole Earth now, as one family, from our own spirit centers.
I thank those who have kept the traditions alive on every continent, the Timekeepers, the holders of the Old Ways. You have survived, and you have brought the stories and the wisdom to this moment, and the world hears your songs and your prayers! There are those of us who are here now and rising because we are ready to carry on the work. We are waking up to both the horror around us and the life force within us, the demons inside us and the beauty that surrounds us. You have held the sacred hoop in your hearts and your lives and we join you in that holy circle of life. We are with you in spirit, on this sacred path. So be it. Aho. Blessed be.