Less than two weeks ago I had a visit from an elder, a teacher of mine, who has been dead for several years. He had told me something about myself many years ago that was absolutely accurate. He pointed out for me something I needed to heal from. That particular thing had been trying to strangle me all of my life, so it wasn't news to me, but he could see it clearly. I think he came by to visit recently to let me know that maybe I was finally making some headway. He smiled.
Today I learned about the death of the last of the elders who taught me back then - Rita. She was one of the world's Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers. I read the news in a message on my phone while eating dinner in a restaurant. Tears ran down my face. I've always choked up and started to cry when speaking of her. It's been that way for more than 25 years now. Rita was a healer. The closest thing to light a human being could be.
She worked on me once. Standing behind me as I sat in a chair, she was moving something inside of me around without actually touching me. I could feel it. She began to sing. One long note, softly, and it just broke me. I started to cry. I shook and sobbed. I wept. Something I had not done in a very long time, if I ever had. When it was over, I felt as though a ton had been lifted off of me.
"I think maybe you needed that," she said. There was such warmth in her face.
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