(8) Shaman's Visit - Long Hair Roots Part 1

White Buffalo Calf Woman @ www.crystalclearinsights.ca

Saadi's minded drifted back further, to her visit to the shaman. The visit she made at the beginning of this quest.  She remembered how she had to talk herself into it, justifying her decision to herself.

Every once in a while an Indian woman comes to me in my dreams, especially when I am in a difficult place.  I have fantasized that it is my father’s mother Mary True Heart, a full-blooded American Indian.  The only thing Daddy could remember about her was that she had long hair “black as coal”.  She died when he was two so there was not much else that he could share.  When my niece was a born you could clearly see her Indian roots especially in her hair.  Daddy liked her hair.  When she was little, sometimes, she would sit on the floor at his feet and he would stroke her hair.  I always wondered if she brought him memories of his mother.  Mary True Heart's blood courses through me.  She is my heritage and I will draw on it to begin my journey.

Saadi called her friend Gladys who frequently went to drum circles and healing rituals and asked Gladys if she knew of any Native Americans in the area that might do these. Saadi told Gladys she wanted to make some changes in her life and she wanted to begin with a spiritual cleansing. Gladys knew of an Indian shaman woman who lived on a farm in Chesapeake.  She did sweat lodges, readings and all kinds of things. Gladys suggested the sweat lodge because it was a cleansing ritual, a good place to begin a healing, and a good step to take while seeking to learn life’s lessons.  Saadi, being somewhat claustrophobic, thought a darkened tight space would undo her.  Gladys gave her the woman’s phone number so she could ask her about it.

When Saadi called she really liked the way the woman sounded, hip and contemporary, not like some old elders she had imagined, but a woman who seemed around her age, maybe a little older. 

The shaman explained, “You can sit near the door instead of in the center of the circle, so if it gets too intense for you, you can leave the tent, but I think you will be just fine.  Come! Yes, you should come.  It will be good for you. It will help you on your quest!” 

The difficult task of finding a babysitter kept Saadi from the first part where they went into the woods for a peace ritual but she arrived with plenty of time for the greeting circle and then the sweat lodge.  There were others present perhaps twenty people. All of them were White Americans, no Asians, Hispanics or other Native Americans that she could recognize. Mostly everyone had painted lines on their cheeks. Saadi figured it had happened at the peace ritual. Some had beautiful Indian feathers in their hair.  Each one had made a prayer pouch, small leather bags large enough to hold something about the size of a bottle of fingernail polish, that they wore around their necks. The Shaman said it was okay for those of us unable to make the pouches.  We were there in time for the most important part.

Indian Teepee Sunset by James Bo Insogna

They were on a farm.  It had about fifty acres, some of it land for crops and cattle and a large portion was trees that hadn’t been cut down.  The teepee for the sweat lodge was on a clearing in the field by the house. It was not far from the patch of woods. The woods were where they had gone for the peace ritual.  It had rained heavily a few days before so the driveway and some of the clearing had puddles but the ground looked barely damp by the teepee.  The sun was beginning to set so Saadi barely saw the details in the white, black, and grey Indian blankets outlining the teepees conical shape.  Whiffs of white smoke from the top of the structure trailed into the pink colored sky.  The teepee wasn’t at all small, in fact it could easily fit over a one of those monster trucks. It was definitely enough room for their group of twenty.

The farm was way out in the boonies so there were no streetlights, or honking horns, or police sirens.  It was quiet and peaceful.  Every once and a while you would hear a farm animal make some noise but that was about it.  The air had the usual farm smells in it, smoke and earth with a hint of fertilizer aka manuer.

When they went inside the teepee where the sweat lodge would be held Saadi searched for a seat right by the opening to the outside with no luck, but she was able to sit on the periphery of the circle and the ground was nice and cool underneath.  She hoped she would be able to control her claustrophobia. The fires were lit and as they went around the circle, each person took turns speaking their fears, hopes and dreams, casting away nightmares, and renewing determinations.  Saadi spoke quietly expressing her desires to remove her dark sadness inside and to replace it with hope and happiness.

Shaman White Shell Woman by Susan Seddon-Boulet 

As the fire died down, the teepee gradually became darker, and the voices began to sound more ethereal. With only the red embers remaining of the fire in the middle of the circle, the shaman’s face formed an outline as she stared into the fire’s remnants.