Agaming - On The Shore

To be found agaming. Bare feet, the soles, the soul, touches the Earth. The dune grass waves in the wind. Lake Michigan laps her waves on the shore. Its endless - this opportunity to connect with the shore, the land and the infinite sky.

This piece is a spiral, a prose and wrapped up package in the form of a short story to describe the past several years of my life. I refrain from to much depth shared, too much detail known. Broken hearted and down trodden I make my way along highways. I make my way along the depths of my soul. I drive and drive. I drive through the Crow Reservation during the Crow Native Days in the summer of 2006. I see the proud Crow people marching on a dirt road near the I-90 and I cry. Tears on my glasses. A catastrophic soul collecting and collaborating with other souls. My broken soul. My disjointed soul, torn from across time, trauma and pain. I wipe the tears off my face and focus on the road. I gaze out at Big Sky country and in my rear view mirror I see the Crow marching proud. I was invited to go to Crow Native days but drive on for fear of being seen because of my intense social phobia and eating disorder that had a grip on me at that time in my life. This is just the beginning. I need gas so I stop at a gas station in a small town in Wyoming. The land stretches on infinitely and is desolate. As the gas tank fills I gaze at the homes near the gas station and wonder who lives there. The couple I had been following along the highway since about Billings, Montana stops to get gas too. I share with the couple my story and my deep connection to helping the Natives on Turtle Island heal. I share with them how I was so touched to the point of tears seeing all the proud Crow people march. Simply the Colorado couple listened and honored my soul and words. Roadside wisdom delivered that day. The man said to me, "you must write from your experience and your voice." So we say our goodbyes, I get back in the car and they get back on their motorcycle.


Video: Driving through the Crow Reservation in Montana.

Pebbles spit from under my car as I take a two-track road to Lake Michigan. I remember the words of that man. Maybe it was a dream but it was good encouragement to speak and use my voice. I jump out of the car and throw my sandals in the back of my car. I don't need sandals as I make my way down to the shore.

My feet engage with the Earth beneath. She comforts my heart. As I run like a child to the water. Enthusiastically rock collecting and watching the seagulls fly about. I leave reasoning and analytical thought in my car. I open my heart and soul to the one of the greatest counselors in the world. A vision flashes and I see a time long ago. As if the shore was another space and time. Chiefs, medicine men, medicine women and other ancestors. I almost see their faces as I kneel down to cup the water from the waves in my hands. I look at the freighter far out there in the lake and the sailboats going by. I feel at home knowing while on the shore I am with my ancestors. My heart heals more and I know they are with me. This reconnection of the heart to a place is one of the most sacred things for me. The heart and soul to the land, the waters and this place, I find myself at home agaming.