Is You Is or Is You Aint?

Without ego or arrogance, I have to say I do enjoy this life. Its a hard way to go, not one I would wish on a single relative. To watch as the Ancestors do what they do. To witness healing, awakening, understanding in those who willingly set aside their preconceived opinions and let go. Those who realize they don’t know, submit, and open themselves to truth. Because that is exactly what this is. Submission. Giving in to what you don’t have the questions for, much less the answers. Understanding you don’t know, but are willing to learn.

How do you tell whats real from whats made up in someones head? With no frame of reference, no experience, how does someone know that what they are seeing is real, or absolute bullshit? Title is one. If the fool walking through the door, before they even say hello, vomits their title, there is the first red flag. Those who are don’t have to tell you. Maybe someone else will pull you aside and whisper to you. After you have spent three hours drinking coffee with someone, laughing, cutting up and having a great conversation. Then you find out that was so and so. This has happened to me several times, in many places. I once sat with an Elder, somewhere between 70 and 90. Relaxed and composed, we laughed over coffee, sharing stories of the urban confused. Things we each had seen, experienced, by those who didn’t have a clue and wouldn’t know what to do with one if you wrapped it in fancy paper and gave it to them on Christmas. I later learned, through someone else, I had just spent three hours with one of the most powerful medicine people in Indian Country. And he never said a word about it. It was just me and Grandpa, hanging out, shooting the bull over coffee.

Say some fool walks into your home, or where ever you may be. Full of themselves, and all they know. Next thing they are breaking out a shell, filling it with white sage. Got so much smoke going you would swear they were fogging mosquitoes. Out comes the turkey fan, and they begin chanting some nonsensical whatever. Singing Bill Miller or Rita Coolidge as a ceremony song. Putting on a big display, showing everyone in the zip code just how special they are. How much of that do you think is real?

Maybe a full blood comes to see you. Straight off the rez, raised in traditions and culture. Knows the songs, how to put things together. Up in everyone’s face, telling you how it is, how it should be, and why it is that way. Bullying everyone into submission, forcing all to adhere to their understanding. They are from the rez. They know all there is to know and all must bow before them. Demanding money, demanding to be recognized. They too have titles, and they use those titles like a bat, smashing everyone in the face with it. How much of that do you think is real?

To put this into perspective is very simple. Most of us have been or still are drinkers. Hang out in bars and clubs, looking for a good time or a quiet beer. At some point some fool will show up, all pomp and circumstance. Loud mouthed, boisterous, calling attention to themselves. Forcing every person in the place to acknowledge their existence. Everyone must see how special they are. Everyone must accept they are better than everyone else and what a privilege it is to be in the same room with them. Breathing the air they have used to sustain themselves. What a blessing to gaze upon their divine countenance. Then, there is the other guy. Some notice him, most don’t. He is usually alone, off by himself. Not really saying much, sipping a beer, taking in the show. Anyone who has an ounce of sense knows that’s the guy you leave the hell alone. He doesn’t have to jump up and down, acting like an ass, calling attention to himself. Yet, everyone knows. No one really gets close to him. If they have to pass by him, they keep their distance.

This is the way of a true medicine person. They walk in, sit down and ask for a cup of coffee. Maybe they fire up a smoke, and simply start having a conversation. They aren’t breaking out the feathers and dew-dads. Simply hanging out. The entire time they are carrying on a conversation about not much of anything with you, they are also speaking with those they walk with. Those Ancestors and Beings who hold the true power. Watching you, listening to you, peeling you apart like an onion. When you finally open that door, just a crack, that’s what they have been waiting for. Sometimes it takes an hour, sometimes a couple of days. Eventually you will reveal where you are wounded. From out of nowhere they ask one question, make one statement. A spiritual grenade thrown with perfect accuracy, instantly blowing everything to hell. You're left sitting there, speechless. Now, the healing begins. All the person did was come in and have a cup of coffee. Because the person is only a person. Its what travels with them. What you cant see.

True medicine people don’t put on a show. They don’t seek patients, the patients come to them. Because they know it isn’t them. The true power lies with those who have chosen them. There is no flash of lightning and crash of thunder. In a whisper they come, tearing off the mask, bringing what you need. Quietly, with no hint they are even there. Maybe a chill comes over you. Maybe a scent fills the room. All the while, that medicine person is sitting there, chatting about nothing, drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette. And your life will never be the same again.

The fool who blew in, demanding all recognize and acknowledge their deified presence? Best to shake their hand, give them a smile and walk the hell away. That fool is going to get someone hurt. Look for the one in the corner. The Grandma, the Grandpa, not calling attention to themselves. Quietly, they are simply there. They wont come to you. You have to go to them. Maybe invite them to come see you. Some will, most wont. Most stay where they are, patiently waiting on those willing to admit they don’t know.

Some travel, going here and there. Called to those who cant get to who they need to see. Those who see and don’t fall for the three ring Indian circus show. Traveling among the relatives. Never asking for anything. Maybe a meal, a cup of coffee. Giving of themselves with no expectations of return. What little they have they give, without having to be asked. Understanding, as much as any two legged can, they are simply a person. A person living with an immense responsibility. Humbled by that responsibility. Their reward is witnessing the healing given to those they were sent to. Listen to the whisper relatives. The whisper.