Today started off difficult.

I’m on my moon time, so my moods are all off. Crying at random. Feeling irrational and lonely.

I couldn’t get through my songs on the guitar. I didn’t have a voice. And then trying to read through and practice my poetry, I lost it again. Feeling like I couldn’t be today.

But then I said, ok. My body hurts. Way too much. I need to do some movement, and get the blood flowing, or I’m going to be in even bigger pain.

I got up and did 20 minutes of High Intensity  Interval Training. Then had a shower. My skin is looking really nice lately. I’ve got a new regimen, a simple one, that seems to be working. I wash my face with water, just water, twice a day. Then tone afterwards with rubbing alcohol. Then some oil. Twice a week, I use sand or coffee grounds as an exfoliant.

After the shower, I got myself together and went to the Women’s Healing Circle at the Native Centre. It was wonderful. Hearing their words, feeling the connection. Washing away the evil with the smudging. We ate and chatted. Followed by drumming and song, our voices chorused in unison. I found my voice again.

It rang out strong and proud.

And the tears streamed down my face. I washed them into my skin, as the elders have taught me. The medicine of my body’s emotions. It felt so light to be there. Like the evils attached to me had really flown away with our songs, felt into the wind, and sang to the four directions. Our hands connected in prayer, a lasting circle.

It’s been far too long. I feel free again. I feel home. I love being there at the centre, and just hearing the wisdom of the elders. Having their gentle voices remind me of all I have forgotten. The stories I once heard as a girl. The words to songs that I only ever knew the tune.

Part of me feels anger, at having missed this for soo long. Afraid of getting rejected once again, as I was in my youth. Having missed the ceremonies and traditions, I was not one of them. I was not invited in.

Now, for some reason, it’s different. There is an acceptance. A welcoming. A change. I want to belong here. This is what feels right. What has always felt right.

When I told one elder about my hawk friend, he smiled, and told me it was a sign. That I was meant to come back here. That the heritage runs strong in my blood, and the hawk could feel it. He chose me. I laughed and told him, the chum (bait) helps. He said no, and told me a tale about the hawk that resembled my journey.

I sat with it all day. Wondering to myself the relevance of this tale. And now I know. I understand why he told me, and why I needed to hear it.

It’s hard coming back here, because I really have to listen. I have to not just hear the words that are being spoken, but why, and how. I have to think before I speak back, and think before I act. There are ways to do things. And when I go back to see my elder friend again, I must tell him why the tale was spoken. That I have understood his lesson.

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