Our teacher began the morning of our final day of class in Glacier National Park with a Wind Walk. He told us the purpose of the Wind Walk is to ask a question and allow Nature to answer it. The idea is to enter the forest in a state of intention-infused meditation, and following one’s intuition and the sounds of the forest, move through it until an answer is found. A walking meditation of sorts.
Because I had been asking particularly about plant songs, asking for guidance in the process of receiving them, our teacher felt inspired to sing us a song before the Walk. He would sing us a song he received from a plant in South America, a song for opening the heart. Afterwards, we would silently take our leave from the campfire and into the forest alone.
The song he sang immediately caused goosebumps to rise all over my skin. Beginning with rattling his chacapa, invoking the sounds of bird wings and leafy wind, he blew that signature shamanic soplando, and began whistling a melody like a dancing ballerina. The whistle turned to vocables which turned to words through time and graceful dynamics. There is no rush in healing songs. The melody was like an ancient story or passageway into another world and I felt my heart center warm and tingle as the song built and moved through space. At the end of the song, finished as gracefully as it began, I sat in silent meditation for some moments, formulating my intention and questions for the walk. When the time was right, I opened my eyes, saw where the smoke from the fire was blowing, and went that way.
Naturally, I had three questions in my mind. One was in regards to constructing my own chacapa, another was in regards to a person in my life and the third was dealing with a sickness I have been holding onto for over a month now. Where the smoke led me was into a dense thicket of Salmonberry and Devil’s Club, poking and prodding me from all sides. I had to duck and twist and curve myself through the thicket, but while I was in such close proximity to Devil’s Club, it became clear to me that he wanted to be included in my music making somehow. A rattle from his roots? Or perhaps just a handle for the rattle from his root? I hope to work with Devil’s Club more this week to receive further guidance on this process.
I passed a small patch of Veratrum viride, also known as False Hellebore or Corn Lily. This plant already beckoned to me the day before so I was not surprised when it found me again. I tipped my hat to it and kept moving towards an opening in the density, beneath a Hemlock tree. Once I reached this space, I began doing strange things with my throat and breath, without thinking about it or trying to do anything. This seemed to have something to do with my sickness. My attention was then drawn to two Alder trees to my right and I moved toward them remembering the first time I connected with Alder, and the song he gave me. Right at my eye level was this little patch of moss with a tiny baby banana slug in it. This indicated a teaching about my second question, as this person and I had recently talked about how strange it is that we never see baby banana slugs, only seemingly full-grown ones. I gathered what I could from those trees in regards to my question and then noticed that, like the Aspens, these two Alders both had eyes. They each had one and both were looking in the exact same direction. So I followed their gaze.
The Alders led me to another growth of Veratrum viride, but not without first bringing to my attention two silvery gray mushrooms sprouting out of an old downed tree. I was told to take them, with their substrate, and bring them home with me. Then I turned my awareness to the mighty toxic plant in front of me, a plant that holds itself with integrity and demanding presence, a true Warrior. I sat, made offerings, and started dry heaving. Nothing physically purged from my being but I certainly felt like something came out. This lasted only a few minutes. I was then told to take a flower and put it in my medicine pouch. With a humbleness untainted by fear, I took one of the flower buds from the Veratrum and felt it’s energetic patterns permeate my being through my fingertips. Unfortunately, quickly thereafter, our teacher whistled, signaling the time to return to camp.
The next morning I awoke with such a pain in my stomach that I was absolutely crippled, unable to move. I ended up going to the hospital, which was an awful experience in itself, as well as unsettlingly non-conclusive. The root of the sickness is still in question, though I am feeling much better. It is just interesting to note how dramatically my well-being was effected the morning after our last day of class.
