where is she

i can not finish what it is that i want to write. it is about being a sacred witness. i wait for the voice of the old one and i can not hear it right now.but i have called for her and she will come when she thinks that i am ready, to whisper and laugh in my inner ear.she tells me what to lay out as she thinks writing is like a garment and i lay it out for the world to see.

i was a practising psychic and had a wonderful clientel . life was good and i still fit into my favorite levi’s size 6. thursday night would find me at the cable 10 studio getting ready to go live and do a phone in show on psychic phenomena. i thought i was phenomenal and i was kinda, i mean size 6 oh those where the days.

i did have the chance to meet the most wondeful people from all over. they’d come on and give readings and healings. we did a fire walk after a class and it was marvelous to actually walk across live coals and survive without a single hot spot or burn.

i’m still waiting for the old one to let me know she is here and ready to lead me down a path filled with visions and the way of the old ones.

all of my stories are experiential and they are how i remember as a brown skinned child running across the prairie on a warm saskatchewan summer.

listen to the wind my grampa would say , it will tell you stories but you must sit still if you can for awhile. then there where star blanketed nights laying on a cowhide looking for the dipper and listening to the old ones as they sat around a fire telling stories and drinking tea. medicine plants would give up their perfume in the sultry summer night and i’d press my face into the earth and fill my being with joy.

well enough for tonite. she is not coming and fresh laundred sheets and deepak chopras new book are calling me.

its how it is when i write from a place that is not always accessible, she is there. she is a spirit-woman who has been with me forever and now with 59 years staring me in the face , i don’t care who knows. we’ve walked this long together and i know there is still alot of path in front of us.

i write so often with spirit-woman in my presence. its inspired writing prompted by this elder brownskinned wrinkle being with laughing eyes.

she come at night when i couldnt sleep and we’d find a quiet corner and turn on a little light and we’d write and laugh and enjoy each others company sometimes till dawn stole in the window. but she still isn’t here but when she does i’ll come here to this desk and write what has to be and share her wisdom,humor and company with you.

till then … listen to the wind it is telling stories..

morningstar woman