Everything is an elder, she wrote me.
And I believe her, I do.
I can even see the way her crystal blue eyes would flutter as she says it, her voice dropping lower, slower, potent with a truth that is not of this plane.
Everything is an elder.
Everything is a teacher.
And I know.
I know how even when I sit in the role of teacher or healer I am just as fully in the space of student.
I know how every rock and every tree, every mossy forest floor and every mountain top, those twinkling stars and fiery sunrises, and every everything in between, are my elders.
Still, some days, how potent the loss of a home is for me. That latent sting of being an orphan of no culture.
I collect the pieces as I go. gathering the threads that create my story; weaving my own braid of who I am, where I came from, life time to life time. Hope welling in my heart that I am doing it right.
And I guess that is the crux of it right there; I am not mourning the loss of a teacher or an elder, my life is rich with both; within and without. I am mourning the loss of a wayfinder, the loss of a hand-holder, some benevolent, wise grandmother who has journeyed this exact path and teaches me the way.
But how could such a person exist?
Me, this existence, this experience, these strands of DNA and these cellular memories are mine and mine alone. There is no one who can give me a road map to navigate this course. No one to give me explicit directions from Point A to Point Z.
But there are scores of teachers and elders, an entire web of light workers, guides and guardians, a world of sacred space holders and holy tribe members.
So do I mourn for what simply cannot exist?
Or do I rejoice in gratitude for what I am immersed in?
I choose gratitude.
And in that choice I shift again, always, to faith.
Faith that these threads I am collecting and weaving are honouring the story that sang for a voice; my voice.
Faith that I never journey alone.
Faith that I can shape-shift//expand//land into the skin and bones of my Soul.
No matter where I go, home is where I am.
And so it is.