I just read through this story I wrote back in March of 2016 called The Shaman Child. It was something I wrote it as a song, as prayer of finding one's way back to remembering who they are why they came here. With so much going on in the world right now so it feels like a good time to re-share it here. Perhaps you can find some peace in it.
She is my teacher, my guide. But I left her in the forest long ago for a foreign life that I was told I wanted. I did not know what damage I would do with this action – this neglect. Sure, I would check in on her from time to time and find her sitting there, covered with her blanket. She seemed to be chanting. It seemed a very private moment to me so I left her alone......and continued my journey. Numb. Unfeeling. Indifferent. It’s been very long for me - full of sleepless nights of questions of “How” and “Why?” Trying to figure my way through troubles. Falling down Getting up. Falling down again.......I am very tired.
Now, that existence is falling apart, crumbling like a wall that can no longer bear its own weight. I am uncertain and sometimes scared. I want to run away but feelings of responsibility linger even though I don’t know what I can do. I don’t want to be covered with the dust of this wall and die choking. I become still and I hear her voice calling me. I go to the forest now and I am walking and walking until I find my way back to my child. She is there, this Shaman Child, sitting and chanting, wrapped in her blanket. I become still again and listen. I hear her song. It is a prayer. A prayer for me to come back.
My heart splits and opens and I feel the softness within. She feels my presence and stops. She stands up and faces me. We look at each other for a moment. Silent. She is dirty faced, scratched and messy haired. She has bruises here and there and her clothing and blanket are tattered and torn. But she is a beautiful child – this Soul that has been aching for my presence. My energy. She is at once, afraid, strong, loving, angry, wary and weary. But she is forgiving.....
She looks into me with her clear eyes and conveys how much she has missed and loves me. She trusts that I will stay this time and opens her arms to welcome me back. The softness inside me makes me go to her. We fall arm in arm and hold each other. We cry together in relief.....in union....in Love. There….in the middle of the forest…..
We are here.
We are Blessed
We are Love.
We are home…
- Pamela Mortensen - March 2016