pieces of a Lifesong - 5

...heartbeat of the drum.

To truly continue this story of my own journey, I need to take you back in time once more, back before college and once again into my high school years - but not to a story about high school. If you've read the about section of my blog, you've read my mention of my Native ancestry. I wasn't raised in a tribal community, and as I go forward in this story I want to make it clear to my readers that I am not an expert on anything related to the tribes that I mention. I only have for you what I have learned myself, through life and experience, and through the way those experiences have mixed into my own journey. Nothing I say on this subject is intended to offend anyone - so please, if it comes across that way, do let me know! As I'm sure you'll come to find in reading this part of my story, I am always looking for ways to learn more about my Native ancestry, and I welcome any lessons that someone more experienced in that area might want to offer.

With that made clear, let's dive back into this story of mine.

When I was in high school, my Mother started to do research into our family tree. Specifically, she began to research my (maternal) Grandpa's side; it was something Grandpa had always mentioned to her, and as a present to him she wanted to find out where his Native roots would lead. We were all terribly excited about the start of this journey (my Mother, Grandpa, myself, and even my Grandma as well - though her family came almost entirely from Ireland!). A cousin of ours on my Grandpa's side was invested in the research as well; he and my Mother worked together, and it wasn't long before they managed to find the start of the trail that would lead back to our ancestors. 

Somehow growing up I had never heard mention of this Native ancestry until this research came up, and I was instantly fascinated by this new piece of my history. I had always felt a strong love for the outdoors, for wildlife (all, and some more strongly than others), and even found an interest in Native Americans through local pow-wows before the news of my family came about. Now that I knew that Native Americans and their lives were a part of me, I wanted to know more. With my love for Christ and his teachings growing stronger in high school, however, I also found myself wanting to make sure that I kept Him fully entwined in this search into my ancestral past. As my Mother began her search to find our genetic lineage, I felt my own goals solidifying. I wanted to learn more about this Native part to my blood and spirit - and I wanted to make certain that I kept Christ woven firmly through this search. I had heard Native beliefs referenced with paganism at various times in the past, and as excited as I was to learn more about this world I knew that I could only continue the journey so long as Christ was present.

It wasn't until my Mother found a relatively local tribe that was willing to let us join that I would find an opportunity to learn how God was woven into the spiritual beliefs of the Natives. We weren't related to the tribe that allowed us to join, but they were small and looking for members; our genealogy showed that we were related to a tribe, and they accepted that as enough. This tribe would be the first Native home that my family found in this search for our history. The people were very welcoming, and happy to answer the questions that we had. My mother's were about the more physical aspect of Native life (gardening, shelters, and crafts), and while I was interested in those subjects as well I found myself filled to spilling with questions about spirituality.

Do the Natives worship God the Father? Is the belief in the environment's spirits a belief in idols, or are they like angelic beings? What about the belief that ancestors are watching over us? How are names chosen, or gifted? And so, so many more that I am afraid I cannot remember.

Unfortunately, with this first tribe, many of the questions I had went unanswered. After some years the tribe would prove to have a falling out, with political drama pulling it apart and eventually leaving us once more without a real Native 'home.' Some of the members kept in touch with us, and when they formed a Drum of their own my mother was invited to join - and so my family found a Drum instead of a Tribe. While it was (and still is) somewhat of a disappointment to not be a true tribe member, joining the Drum was in many ways just as heartening.

Still, my journey to find a way to connect my Native ancestry with my Christian beliefs fell into much the same pace that my journey to find a Church home had. Slow, steady - and essentially on my own. 

By the time I was in College I had at least found a spiritual balance. My journey to find a connection to my ancestry had woven itself irremovably into my journey of Faith. When I went to pow-wows with my mother's drum I did not join the creation of the music, but I did dance in the circle. When I danced to the drum, even without knowing the meaning of the words, the feel of the drumbeat coursing up through my feet and into my heart was strong, powerful, and just as fiery as the way I felt when Spirit coursed through me. 

"Creator" was God, one in the same, of that I could be certain.  I heard stories of the spirits of the land - Coyote, Eagle, Wolf, Thunderbird, and so many more - and I wondered if these 'spirits' of the land couldn't be God's angels, sent to reach a world that Jesus' word had yet to touch? I learned of the aspects of my own spirit, how different creatures could represent different pieces of myself, and I thought - couldn't a Guardian Angel (which the bible tells us we have many) take the form of a creature that would make you comforted to see them? Couldn't they take a visible form that would allow our human minds to process their presence easier? Couldn't our own spirit have a similar form?

My own journey brought me to the symbol of the medicine wheel, because it was a symbol of a Healer, and because of it's similarity to the symbol of a cross (a Celtic cross, specifically). Each quarter of the wheel is connected to a part of your spirit - the black quarter, west, for the spirit; the yellow quarter, east, for the emotions and heart; the red quarter, south, for the mind; and the white quarter, north, for the body or the physical aspect of your spirit. When I learned about the medicine wheel, a part of me knew then that I would find a piece of my spirit to fill each quarter - a spiritual guide for each aspect, or a Guardian Angel of some kind.

The north was easy - I had felt a connection to the wolf since I was small, and often had dreams where I was a wolf, or could be one at will. Since I can remember, my dreams have been one of two kinds: fantastical and unrealistic, a story in my own mind - or incredibly real, and distinctly sharp in my memory. The east quarter of my medicine wheel came soon enough in the form of the latter kind of dream, the real and sharp kind, early in my college career. I was riding a fire-bathed chestnut mare at breakneck speed across an emerald hillside. There was nothing around us but green mountains, nothing between us as I held tightly to her mane, and nothing that would take us apart. I felt His presence clearly in the dream as well, quiet but strong, and it was the combination of the two that left me sure when I woke that the mare was somehow connected to my spirit. 

I'm sure some of you might think this is silly; I'm afraid many of you have already stopped reading. I haven't really spoken about a lot of this with anyone before, but I feel a strong need to share it as a part of the story that I'm telling. I hope if you have made it this far, that you'll continue on this journey with me. It may feel scattered, even fractured, but...well, doesn't life often feel that way as you live it? It all comes together, I promise - and it is all part of the journey that leads me closer to God even today.