With the Morning

Five hundred or so years ago, Grandfather would take me out. Each morning we would meet the day. Sometimes the cold wind would almost whisk me away but he would hold my hand and his strength was all I needed. We would walk to a spot, it would change with the season, sometimes change with his song. Once arrived, He would sing his prayer. It was always brand new; it sprang from his heart. This morning with the sun, I heard my heart with his. We sang a song to the morning.

I remember learning to love the rain, the cold, the snow, the sun of the morning. Each was met with delight. “So grateful that you are here today. What mysteries are you reporting?” I still feel the touch of his hand, the sound of his voice, his many teachings, and how he opened me to the songs of Life.

Now, so many lifetimes hence, I still hear the songs, and begin my morning in a similar way albeit usually from inside the house.  And when I don’t do this, I am dead, a lumbering bulk of ignorance. But this morning as the North wind howls and sun sparkles through naked trees, I’ll throw a blanket around me and sing with the morning.

About Donna Mitchell-Moniak

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4 Responses to With the Morning

  1. beautiful – and it goes on

    • yes, the beat of his drum and teaching still sings in my heart hundreds of year later. We are blessed with many precious teachers through our lifetimes. Their kindness and wisdom lives on within us.

      The best offering of gratitude back to them is to live and further their seeds. Peace to you! Happy New Year 🌸

  2. Scott Sewell says:

    i enjoy the same experiences too, at day break here in Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma. that morning stillness is the most wonderful stillness, beauty and gift i have. its irreplaceable in my heart.

    • With you, brother. I have been to Talequah twice. The first time I flew into Tulsa, nausea began to rise in me on the plane. I did not know where I was but could feel the Trail of Tears. It was difficult the first few days being in the area. I did ceremony and song to the deer who used to be People and told them they could come back now as People if they chose. I was grateful someone had a drum that I could borrow. May the ancestors be honored. May the Mother be healed.

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