A journey to Spirit. – LIFE AS A HUMAN

My mother’s death fired up my curiosity about my heritage. My mother was of First Nation decent, and this meant that regardless of being raised as a little white girl in what seemed a normal mainstream family, I was about to find out how much I had learned about their philosophy just by being around Mom and my grandfather. I began at the library; a very unlikely place for me. On my first visit a book literally jumped off the shelf. Was Mom there to guide me?

The stories in that book were a shocking reminder of her past. They took me on a sad journey into how cruel we can be to one another. I recalled mom’s stories about growing up, and I remembered her inner sadness. I was curious and wanted to know more. I called the local tribe to ask if I could meet some elders. Surprisingly, the answer was yes.

A week later I made my way to the small church where they met, and parked out front. I stepped out of the car and immediately dropped to my knees as an overwhelming sadness filled my chest and tears welled up in my eyes. I started to sob as the pain engulfed me. Clasping my mouth for fear of what might come from it, I looked around for a place to hide. My thoughts were suddenly of funny white coats so I actually hid behind a bush until I could collect myself.

Finally inside the church, I was met by four elders, all women; dressed in mainstream clothes, speaking perfect English and welcoming me as if I was an old friend. I was excited and I had so many questions for them, but that was not what would happen that day. They placed me in the center of their small circle and began to ask questions about me. I would eventually learn this was normal; they were welcoming a guest into their sacred circle, and they would make me feel as important as everyone else in the room.

Ultimately I would come to realize I didn’t belong in either world; not in the tribe, and not in the mainstream. I thought differently than both cultures…which I can only attribute to what I called a washed-out blend of both. This would become the first of many revelations about why I had always felt so different.

As I look back, I see how Spirit took my hand and gently introduced me to the depth of my past and truth of my blood. Years later, a new job would bring me to meet not only my chief, but many elders from around the province, sisters and brothers and even an aunt who would pretend to adopt me back into my own tribe. I felt so honoured.

And every time I stepped into a room during a conference or meeting and had the privilege of being with an elder, my eyes would leak again and my chest would fill up with that deep, captive emotion. There was something familiar, something powerful that was connecting me to those wise and gentle people, and once recognized, I knew it had always been there…in my blood.

One day I met another chief and he would explain. It is common for First Nation’s people to experience such emotion. When we come near to our people with reverence and an open Spirit, we connect to the truth of the past; be it pain, sadness, joy or wisdom. These energies are held within the Spirit of the land and the people who walked upon it, those still here and those gone before us. And they will be forever shared just as all things are shared through the Consciousness of Spirit. When we experience this sacred connection, it’s as if we are coming home.

On my personal label, the invisible one on my forehead, one could read: Caution – Connecting with Spirit may cause the eyes to leak and the chest to swell.

Ancient First Nation blood flows in my veins…and today, I recognize it as the best and strongest part of me. Even as white as I may look, deep inside I am humbled to receive brief glimpses of the ancient wisdom of my elders…and I am proud to be a descendent.

Photo Credits

Spirit – by Paul Aniszewski @ 123rf Stock Photos

A Journey to Spirit #2: Meeting the Past

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