My People


Before I begin, let me give you some background information. In the last year or so, my guides have taken me on journeys showing me a Native American Indian tribe. We stand high on a mountain cliff overlooking this tribe. I know that I’m an important person in this tribe. I’m an elder that is looked up to by the people and a leader. I’ve been told they are my people. A week ago, I was in a meditation in my circle and my guide took me to a ceremony. When we walked up, I knew the elders I saw were my people. My guide motioned for me to join them and I did. It was beautiful.  We carried on as if we hadn’t missed a beat. I fit perfectly.

Two days ago, my good friend shared with me this interesting information. She said, I’ve been seeing a Native Indian guide with you. I see you standing and behind you is an entire Indian tribe. This tribe is your tribe! My mouth just dropped and I told her about some of my journeys and how I have felt like I have many Native guides walking with me now. She laughed and said, “Hun, I think it’s an entire tribe walking with you!”

So now the story unfolds just a little more…

Today, I was drumming and my newest guide came to get me. He took me to the mountain top again. We looked down, and there I saw an entire Indian village. I saw women, children, and men carrying on with their day-to-day life just like I had seen many times before.  My guide motioned for me to go. I looked at him and asked, “Join them?” He said yes. Go to your people. But, this time it was different. I wasn’t joining them for a celebration. I was going home. I was going home to my people. I looked at my guide and started the long walk down the mountainside. It wasn’t me as I am today. I was an old Indian man. I was an old Indian man going home to his people.

When the drumming stopped, I had tears running down my face.

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