The Reluctant Visionary 4 comments

27 Apr 2004 @ 23:59, by Marissa A Spencer The Reluctant Visionary I was attending a meditation/metaphysics class taught by an older gentleman from my reiki group. I was not one to do a lot of meditation and I felt it would do me good to learn a bit about the process. So I started sitting quietly from time to time, emptying my thoughts and relaxing. This alone is healthy, considering our stressful lifestyle and constant rushing. At the beginning, I didn’t experience much of anything, and spent most of my time trying not to think at all. This, by the way, is not always as easy as it sounds. How many times do we set down to relax or even sleep and the worries and static of the day comes rushing into our minds? Anyway, back to meditation. I was sitting in a recliner in my bedroom and emptying my mind. After some moments, I went into a deeply relaxing state. I was not familiar with waking or lucid dreaming at this early stage of my journey into the unknown. I found myself in a desert landscape of scrub and rock. So I was quite surprised to see an old man standing before me in my inner vision. He was dressed in jeans and a faded plaid flannel shirt. He has silver hair past his shoulders. He was in my eyes a Native American. He looked rather solemnly at me and handed me something. I had not read very much about the culture of various indigenous groups. So, I was very surprised to see in his hand a pipe. It was one like the ones you see in movies that they use in the ceremony of peace etc. I didn’t know much about it, except I knew it was a sacred item to them. I initially refused to take it from him. I gazed at this very simple pipe that was red and black with a few feathers dangling from it. I gazed at him…he gave me this look. “I protested and told him I wasn’t worthy, and not the right person to give this to.” He looked at me harder. I am not sure I can describe his gaze properly, except to say, it bore into me and I could feel his authority and insistence that I take it. So, I took it. I stood there holding this item that I didn’t feel I should even touch. His fleeting smile as he walked away was a bit disturbing! And I am left standing there with this object, not knowing why. I have to reassure you, I am not what they call a wannabe Indian. I am quite happy being my usual self, a mixture of Celtic and other European groups. I was quite taken back that I wasn’t being shown some of my Celtic roots stuff. My visions have been completely lacking in what I would have considered my niche in the spiritual sense. So in spirit I stood there, gaping at this old man’s receding figure, trying to understand what it meant. I left it at that, and did not really investigate anything about pipes and old Indians wearing flannel shirts. This was back in 2000. I few days later…I was speaking in a chat room of Native Americans in a program called Mplayer. They were such a kind and friendly group that I enjoyed learning and talking to them. I asked one of them about this old man I had seen. One of them said it might be Silvereagle, apparently a man of wisdom in the spiritual realm. It amazed me how they seemed to take my experience in stride and not judge me in any way. I didn’t mention the pipe yet. The next time I meditated I drifted into that same desert landscape. He was there again. It was odd how his face would seem to be made of stone, and he had never spoken a word to me, yet his eyes were lively with humor and intelligence. I stood before him again, wondering why he was again in my dream. I was transfixed on his old, lined face and almost didn’t notice his arms outstretched holding something white. I looked down to see the most beautiful white buckskinned beaded dress. I am not sure I had ever seen anything like it. The fringe was long and thin; the beading covered it and was so exquisite it took my breath away. He held it out to me. I shook my head and held up my hand in protest. “I cannot take this, I am not worthy. It is too beautiful.” Well, you try to say ‘no’ to this man, I dare you. After some moments of staring at the dress and glancing at this old man before me, I gingerly took this object beyond price. After one brief smile he left me. I awoke totally bewildered and intent on finding what it was all about. I eventually went to the book store and wandered around, hoping for some kind of guidance or inspiration. Knowing this was Native American stuff, I went to that section of the book store. There before me was a book about Black Elk and the Sacred Pipe. I opened it up and was startled to find the first thing I came upon was the story of the White Buffalo Calf Woman. She is the one who gave the sacred pipe to the Oglala Sioux (there are other stories about her regarding this). Needless to say I read this with my mouth gaping open in disbelief. Yes…she wears a white buckskin dress. © April 27, 2004 Marissa A Spencer To be Continued….

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