Still Waters

I'm walking along the sandy path, skirting Little Manitou Lake. The morning is quiet. The water is reflecting the sky. I am walking, but I keep stopping to take pictures.

My friend, Alfred Cyr, told me that the elders told him, "If you don't know how to pray, walk. Then you'll learn how to pray."

I haven't been walking much, maybe a couple times a week. But today, on this morning walk along the still water named for Spirit, Manitou, I am praying with each step. How do I continue my treaty walks? What have I learned from the Idle No More movement? What's next?

I haven't been walking much, and I haven't been blogging at all, yet everyday that I haven't written, I've still been learning about land, people, history, promises, brokenness, healing, dreams, and hope. I've realized I can't keep up, so I've stopped trying.

This past summer, Michael, my husband, was sharing the story of Jonah and the great fish from our sacred teachings. He said something that's really made me think. Usually, when we're running from something, that's the exact thing Creator wants us to do.

I'm still at Manitou Beach, but today the wind is blowing and the sky is cloudless. I'm sitting on a rock along the shore, the sun is full and hot. I'm wondering, what am I running from?

A pelican, white and wobbly in the wind, circles in the blue. Dry, orange leaves trot on the pavement behind me, then down the rocky shore. A gust of wind turns a swath of water dark blue, like a hand moving, creating a shadow in it's path. The hand moves here and moves there.

Silence. You're running from silence.

Would it be ironic to break the stillness on my blog by realizing I'm afraid of quiet? Scared of rest. Scared of time to process.

to rejuvinate
to think
to be
to share in a good way

 

 

 

 

 

And when I walk and then rest, I will hear Great Spirit whisper, as I did this weekend on the shores of Little Manitou.