Three Years Ago I Made Myself Homeless


This autumn I make a similar choice. One that has been requested by many Old Ones whose insistence of my presence at a particular piece of land is unmistakable.  I’ve talked about my relationship with Nicholas Black Elk. It was just over a year ago when he made it clear I was needed at Standing Rock. Although I didn’t exactly ignore him, the context and contact for getting there were so far removed from my awareness that it didn’t make any sense to go.

Even last month when I arrived at #noDAPL, it still didn’t make sense. I’m not an activist and, even now, consider my relationship with water, the other elements, and elementals a unique and individual one. However, since I left, I’ve not been asked to return but it’s being demanded by that cross-cultural, cross-continental contingent that is my invisible entourage. An old heyoka said last week, “As all things, this must be done with haste for it is of the most importance” and the Old Ladies have rattled the windows once again so we pack the car to live in again and trust the call, the plea and the direction.

This October as I venture into the knowing that I don’t know much–except to where I’m beckoned–I open myself to the way and keep the promise given last year to my council of many: “I will never deny you again.”

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