Take time to mine for the gold in your memories [column]

WOLF SONGS  & FIRE CHATS

Now and then, as I march further and further into this journey called life, I like to look back and relive those moments when things were altered, changed and rearranged. The signposts where the journey took its own direction and the story of my time here became special.

Sometimes we think that those moments are few and far between. But earnest reflection will always lead us to a literal gold mine of experiences that made us bigger. Even if we didn’t recognize them as such at the time. They sit in our memory and become gold. They are our treasures.

Like the time when I was in my late twenties. I was learning to be a helper for a traditional teacher and ceremonialist. I took the role very seriously and I put every ounce of my energy into it. I paid attention to everything the old man said and followed it.

He was a generous teacher and a great and wonderful storyteller. He’d been a soldier in two great wars, then came home to fight an even more dire war with alcohol.

We met at a traditional gathering. When we began to talk it came easily and we were friends within minutes. He was always able to see things in me that I was blind to and a month or so later when he asked me to be his helper I accepted right away.

I was incredibly serious about our traditional ceremonies and spirituality back then. I became even more serious minded working with him.

See, I thought that everything about Native spirituality had to be serious too. I thought every teaching, every lesson, and every ritual, even the smallest of acts, needed to be somber and weighty with the spirit of my intent. I did a good job and I learned a lot but I wasn’t much fun to be around.

Because of my serious pursuit of answers, things got to be very hard for me. I pushed and pushed for greater understanding through our ceremonies. Every move I made was made harder by my deliberate intent to glean something substantial from them.

Nothing was easy or natural in my struggle to discover great teachings and great lessons.  It tired me out very quickly. One night, sitting around a fire, I asked the old man another in a long line of serious questions.

Why does it take so much work to be spiritual, I asked. He looked at me for a long time and then stared at the fire for a moment. He asked me what I meant and I described the incredible energy I was putting into everything.

I talked about how I didn’t want to miss a step, miss a teaching, or dismiss something vital because of a lack of attention. I spoke about how tired it all made me.

“It doesn’t.” That was all he said. It was my turn to stare into the fire. I thought about what I wanted most and it was to be a good example of a life directed by spiritual principle. It was to be a good example of Native spirituality. Finally, I said, “Well, it sure feels like it does.”

What he said next became gold for me.

“That’s because you forget,” he said. “Forget what,” I answered. “You forget that you came here spiritual. You were born as spirit and Creator and spirit live within you. Always have. Always will.”
“If you choose to believe and accept that then being spiritual is easy. It just means doing whatever moves your spirit. Whatever makes you feel alive. Whatever brings you joy. Whatever moves you closer to the truth about yourself and the truth is that we are created to be joyful spirits. Spirituality means expressing the joy of our spirit.”

There was nothing that I could say after that. We sat there in a profound silence and he put an arm around my shoulder like a son and I allowed myself to feel all of that. It gladdened me.

I felt my spirit moving under the gentleness of that gesture and I understood fully what he had just offered me.

I quit being so damn serious after that. I became open to those things around me that moved my spirit: words, music, art, the land, ceremony, quiet and the company of like-minded people, community.

In them and through them I became more spiritual and I quit fighting myself so desperately. The old man’s words that night became my treasure.