05/12/2020
Today as I meditated by the Mississippi River, I remembered my grandfather. I found myself laying just like he used to so many times - with one leg over the other knee. He would sit with his back against a pile of blankets. Within those blankets, he would hide treats like peaches, apples and sweets. He would carefully slice the fruits and savor the taste as if that was the first time he was eating it. I'd also get a few slices. One of many things he shared with me. My favorites were outings with him on his white horse and his dog. We'd stop for lunch and he would cook up yucca bulbs and at times prairie dogs. I ate the bulbs while he ate the prairie dogs. I couldn't bring myself to put something in my mouth that was looking at me just a moment before. He loved canned sardines with saltine crackers. I did too.
I wonder what he would say now as we are faced with the virus. During the 1918 pandemic, he was a full time practicing medicine man and helped his people survive it. His solution was always to restore balance with oneself, others and the elements of nature. If one part/thread of the web was not strong, it was the responsibility of the five fingered to bring (Hozho) balance, love, harmony, joy back into the web. Ever since he was 14 years old, he trained to be a medicine man fully equipped with songs, rituals (ceremonies), prayers, teachings and chants that replenished beauty and healing.
He would say, to restore hozho to all especially where we see broken pieces. Pieces that were seen from all perspectives each holding their own trauma(s). As my right knee gave support to my left leg, I realized once again that our ancestors are there making themselves accessible to our needs. They are always willing to help as they continue to love us from where they are. Let's ask them for help.