Finding My Way Back to My Roots

I am startled awake by a booming clap of thunder. My room briefly illuminates in a flash of lightning, fading into darkness just as quickly. Another rumbling boom of thunder shakes my house, followed by another, and now, I am wide awake. I check the clock- it’s 5:30 am. There’s no chance in hell of falling back asleep. I roll slowly out of bed and plod softly down the hallway to check on Pedro, my fourteen-year-old chihuahua terrier mix. He startles easily at loud sounds like thunder or fireworks. 

I find him curled up in his bed, snoring. How he can sleep through this storm, I don’t know. The rain is falling in sheets, huge drops pattering the roof in unrelenting fury. I walk to the front door and open it, calling for Pedro to come out. He rises from his bed slowly, stretching and yawning before lazily making his way to the door. He pokes his nose out, and then promptly turns back around. No way Jose, he seems to say. He hates getting wet. 

The smell of fresh rain is a welcome companion, and I let it in along with the cool breeze of morning air. It’s springtime in Idaho, although it’s usually still winter this time of year. We are in the first few days of March, and yet the spring storms and rain are already rolling in. Second winter will probably come next, but I savor this gift anyway.

I make my way to the kitchen as the rain eases from an angry hammering to a slow and gentle tinkling, music to my ears. I make my coffee and drink it slowly in the dark kitchen, savoring its bitter sweet warmth on my tongue. I like to keep the lights off in the mornings, allowing myself to wake up slowly. I’ve always hated the bright, harsh light of fluorescents. So instead, I keep small night lights and dimly lit lamps throughout the house, and allow the sun to be the first light of my day. 

. . . . . .

I’ve been doing my daily meditation ritual for about a month now, and its now gotten to the point where I crave it. I feel the pull calling me, and I make my way to the massage room. This room is set up for healing others, but last year, after I had two major surgeries, I realized it could also be used for my own healing. I lay here countless times, absorbing the healing energy, smelling the fragrance of essential oils, and listening to the soothing sounds of gentle music and ocean waves. 

Lately, I’ve gotten used to using it as my meditation room as well. I turn on the biomat, a bed of amethyst, jade, and black tourmaline gemstones, seeing the infrared lights send a warm red glow over the white sheets. I set the frequency to 7.87 hz, the Schumann resonance, and the magnetic frequency of the Earth, and our hearts. 

I turn on the salt lamps and fairy string lights, creating a cozy glow in the dark room. Then I turn on my sound machine to the sounds of rainfall, (just in case the rain stops- I want to keep this vibe going) and lay down, pulling the cozy blanket up over me. As a final touch, I place a folded pillowcase over my eyes to block out the light. 

I’m surrounded by comfort, warmth, and safety in my little cocoon. I feel grateful and blessed for the opportunity to have a healing sanctuary in my home like this. As I go into meditation, I connect to my ancestors and ask for their blessings and guidance. 

Today, I do a specific meditation for ancestral healing, sending love and healing energy to my parents and grandparents on both sides. I visualize their energy bodies receiving this energy. I wish them health and happiness. I ask that they be free from pain, suffering, anger, and sadness. I ask that love and gratitude heal the generational wounds that were given to them from their ancestors, and that were passed on from them to me. I ask for forgiveness, and I forgive them. I see us all surrounded by love and light. 

I connect to my true self- to my soul, and I feel that love and light emanating from me. I feel the sadness and pain inside me start to drain away, being replaced with love. I see the interconnected web of all of my ancestors that comes through me and to my children. I intend that this web be cleared of generational trauma, and see it light up with the vibration of love. 

Then I connect to a very special ancestor- Mulomah. She has been with me since I saw her at a sweat lodge with my shaman teacher many years ago. Mulomah is my great grandmother’s grandmother. I know that she holds the wisdom teachings for me, and I connect to her spirit often. Lately, she has been telling me that I need to go down south to my ancestral homeland, to Cherokee territory in Arkansas, Oklahoma, Tennessee, and North Carolina. I am supposed to walk the Trail Of Tears, on the same path that Mulomah walked. There is something there I am meant to receive, and in exchange, I will give something back. I am not sure exactly what I am supposed to do, but I know I will be shown when the time is right. Each time I connect with my spirit and my guides, I am learning to trust more and more, aligning myself with a higher path, and a higher purpose. 

. . . . . .

After my meditation, I feel the call of my drum. It is round like the moon, and ever so slightly tinted with blue-green paint. I made this new drum last fall, after my old drum told me it wanted to be retired. That old drum, Spirit Weaver, was my friend, my healer, and my comfort through many very difficult years of my life. It had attended so many ceremonies with me, weatherinng many seasons. I’d pounded the mallet into its tired old elk hide so much that, after fourteen years of unwavering loyalty, its energy had finally been all used up. It lost its deep reverberating tone, eventually dulling to a thud.

Spirit Weaver

I’d brought it with me to the recent drum making class, and when the shaman teacher asked me if it wanted to go to the fire, I’d hesitated. I knew in my heart that it was time for the giveaway, but a part of me didn’t want to let it go. I was afraid to let go of something that I loved so dearly. I remembered all the tears I had cried with that drum, and all the spirit songs it had given me. I thought about all the times it had been there for me, in sickness and in health, my trusted friend and confidante. But, many times, I had heard Spirit Weaver gently telling me that it had fulfilled its purpose, and the time had come for it to go back home. 

So, with tears in my eyes, I created the ceremonial fire. I circled around it, singing the sacred songs, carrying my beloved drum in my arms. As an offering, I gave sage, tobacco, and dried lavender flowers to the fire. And then at last, after a good blaze was going, I laid Spirit Weaver on top, expressed my gratitude for its many gifts and teachings, and watched it melt away into smoke and ashes. 

. . . . . .

I take my new drum out of its soft case and say hello, greeting her as I always do. When I journeyed to meet the spirit of the new drum, she’d told me her name is Moon Fire. I begin to play, beating her deer hide with the wooden mallet I’d carefully wrapped in soft cloth and batting, and then tied with sinew. Her tone is lighter and higher pitched than Spirit Weaver, as I’d used deer hide instead of elk. I wanted this drum to represent the divine feminine, so I’d chosen a round frame this time, rather than an octagon. 

Drum Circle Frame

I breathe into the earth below my feet, clear my mind, and begin to hum a tune. My feet start tapping on the floor. A message is coming through me, about a dream I had a few weeks ago. 

In the dream, I am at my mother’s house, in the living room, and it is dark and scary. I’ve always hated this living room and I don’t like this energy. Without noticing, I walk right into a giant spider web. A huge black spider in the center of the web feels me stuck in it, and quickly scurries away. I see several other little spiders scurrying too. Terrified, I scream and run in the other direction.

I know the dream has a very important message. Spiders are sacred, because they represent the divine feminine, the Goddess, sacred geometry, and the weavers. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what the dream meant.

. . . . . .

There’s an old Cherokee tale of the spider and the first fire- a story of how after all the bigger animals had failed, the little water spider created an air bubble and swam all the way to a burning island and brought back an ember from the first fire to the people. A story of how even the smallest of creatures can make a big difference. In Navajo culture, they say that Spider Woman taught them how to weave baskets and to walk “the beauty way,” or how to live in harmony with nature.

The Cherokee Water Spider

As I drum, I connect to Spider Woman and the spider medicine, asking for their guidance. I can feel Spirit  beginning to move through me, and then words start to come. Before long, a full song has emerged. It’s about the thunder and lightning I heard this morning, and about Spider woman.

“Thunder and lighting roll through the sky,

Spider Woman weaves her web of light.

Rain waters pour down to the Earth from up high,

We are all thirsty, drinking from the fountain of life.

Spider woman weaves her web of light, 

All one, we are dancing the sacred spiral of life;

Together, we are weaving the sacred spiral of life.”

I sing and drum with all my heart, getting louder and louder, bellowing and beating, creating a crescendo of vibration and sound. After several minutes, the song comes to an end and the last drum beat stops. Big salty tears roll down my cheeks in gratitude. I have been given the beautiful gift of a spirit song. This song, like so many others that have come since I started my spiritual journey, came to me from Spirit. I don’t make the songs- they don’t come from me. They come through me. They’re always there-all you have to do is listen. 

Most artists will tell you that their art doesn’t come from them- it comes through them. That’s what happens when you’re connected to Spirit: the drum, voice, message, and medium all weave together to create something greater than yourself. 

. . . . . .

I give thanks, knowing this song will help me and many others. Now, I understand the message of my dream. Spider Woman has woven the web between my mother and I. She is showing me how to heal my generational trauma. Instead of trying to fight it and resist it, I must learn to respect it and face my fears. I am supported in this task by her, and by Spirit, becuase it’s what I came here to do. 

Now, I understand the unusual webbing on the back of the previous drum I’d made. As I’d laid the drum out to dry, looking at the web of the wet and slippery strands of hide, I’d thought it was kind of funny that it looked just like a spider’s web. I hadn’t done it intentionally- it had just turned out that way. Spider medicine was working through me even back then! I hadn’t wanted to believe that spider was a totem animal for me, or maybe I just wasn’t ready. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because I am ready now. 

I know this task is not for the weak. Therefore, I must be strong. I understand that everything that came before did not come to break me- it came to strengthen me.

Now I understand that everything that came before did not come to break me- it came to strengthen me. I understand that all the adversity I’ve faced was to challenge me to rise above the limitations of who I thought I was so I could become who I was always meant to be. 

For so many years I searched for validation outside of myself. I wanted others to tell me who I was. I wanted someone else to believe that I was special so I could believe it too. Eventually, I had to learn how to dig out the old beliefs of fear and unworthiness and replace them with courage and love. I had to learn that I had value not because of what I could do or offer, but simply because I am alive, a daughter of the Great Spirit, Pachamama, and of Mama and Papa Light. 

I cry tears mixed of sorrow and gratitude, knowing that this is my purpose. I am a light in a world of darkness. I carry the gifts of my ancestors within me. I know this to be true because I feel it in my soul. I don’t need someone else to tell me. I am a healer, a teacher, and a medicine woman. I did not choose this path, it chose me. And so now, with honor, courage, and the blessing of Spider Woman, I go forth and do my calling.