Anytime I talk about religion, I feel compelled to mention that I do not have “one”.
Oxymoron: a figure of speech where apparently contradictory terms appear in conjunction. Am I devoutly nonreligious? That causes confusion. The devout part is definitely true when standing alone. I am not devout in being nonreligious, I am non religiously devout.
In the last couple of years, I have had the honor of stepping into the lineage of the Cherokee ancestors. As I have studied and learned and cried with deep humiliation for my part in white ancestry. I have also embraced my connection to the same Great Spirit that has always been my God. And with that has also been a grounding to this existence, being on this planet, a part of the intertwining of all life.
A Cherokee who lives in the Pacific Northwest, White Horse Woman, sought to teach her children and grandchildren the path of their elders, but they showed little interest in the ways of the medicine woman. Starfeather appeared, willing, excited, and ready to absorb a Truth that already ran through her veins.
The ancestry evolves like this: White Buffalo Calf Woman came to the People, and taught them as Jesus did. She taught the mystical, the spiritual, and the practical. And she left an assignment to continue her legacy. Children, grandchildren, great grandchildren continued the practices and passed the teachings. White Horse Woman is still living, but is close to transitioning from the planet. Starfeather is her spiritual child. And, in effect, I am White Horse Woman’s grandchild. Anyone who learns a “native principle or teaching” from me, if we sat somewhere as I told the story of the dreamcatcher and we wove the threads on the cedar ring, that classifies you as White Horse Woman’s spiritual Great Grandchild.
It’s a construct. I made it up. But I think it honors the tradition. It honors the legacy of White Horse Woman. It connects the ancestry; it connects the cultures. There is a gift that is begging to be received.