Archeologists have discovered Medicine Bags that were thousands of years old.  Crisscrossing all cultures, Medicine Bags have been found filled with healing herbs and fetish carved animals.   Animals are totems; guardians who protected them or their tribe.  Medicine Bags are typically small and in many First American cultures they are passed from father to eldest son.

I’m a woman who was born with the red road in her heart.  Steadily, I honed skills of observations to recognize the signs of Spiritual guidance.

I never sought the Medicine Bag.  As in most extraordinary examples in my life, it sought me.  My Medicine Bag was passed to me from my Grandfather, Tunkashila.  Decades ago, I was led to a tiny little store and there, hung on a hook, behind some clothes it was waiting for me.  The sales lady practically gave it to me, as it was unmarked with any price.  She pointed out how a few beads were missing, yet I saw the most important bead of all, the Spirit bead.  A Spirit bead in any beadwork, no matter how perfect it may initially appear, signifies that only God is perfect.  By incorporating a blatant bead of color or “mistake” in the beadwork signified that the artist understood this concept.

Some shamans wear their Medicine Bags around their necks, or an inside pocket.  I hook mine on my belt loop when I’m drumming for journeying, and hold it in my right hand, against my heart, when I’m working with a client for a Soul retrieval.

The contents of significance in a Medicine Bag are sacred, and should never be shared with anyone, until you bequeath it.  The one consistent item in any shaman’s Medicine Bag, and is of no secret, is a piece of prairie sage.

Prairie sage (Artemisia ludoviciana) is a powerful medicine.  I was taught not to use prairie sage for smudging.  There are more effective alternatives to burn for that purpose, such as sweet grass or red cedar.

Currently, the term Medicine Bag has taken on a more generic meaning.  The size and grandiosity of design has become a visual contest that the more extravagant and embellished the Medicine Bag, the more powerful the medicine.  I smile when I see them.  The modern Medicine Bags are filled with crystals, aromatic herbs of lavender and rosemary, or a small photo of a favourite scenic area.  People infuse them with positive energy and think of them as a visual shield of protection.  I feel no detriment or disrespect towards those who do this.  All Medicine changes and evolves throughout the years.

Sometimes the old paths meet the new ones.  A few years ago I attended a gathering of First Americans.  There was great dancing, old songs and traditional food.  Traders had set up their tables to display their crafts for admiration and purchase.  A very old Abenaki man, sitting in a chair behind a vendor table, spied my Medicine Bag on my belt loop and asked to see it.  As I placed it in his hands he kept turning it over and studying the beadwork.  He told me that he had not seen a Medicine Bag like that in many, many years.

Studying his weathered face of experience, our eyes met.  For one flash of a second I saw a time that does not exist anymore.  The memory of what some may have thought is lost and gone, was strong and unwavering in his eyes.  As he returned my artifact, we held our hands fast for a few moments.  This memory remains deep within my heart.

Tags: Abenaki, beadwork, First Americans, medicine bag, old ways, shaman, shield of power, skills of observation, Soul Retrieval, Spirit Bead, Tunkashila

Sitting in our local diner, Rose and I were relating the story of my right earring dislodging frequently to our mutual friend Lorna.  Lorna’s face grew passive and immediately said to us, I just heard Sean’s voice, he said he’s right here; and then she touched her right ear. We all looked at each other in stunned silence.  My eyes welled up with tears as the realization of his simple message had eluded me. Why didn’t I get it before?  Sean was saying that he was right here, by manifesting removal of my right earring. Right Ear – Right Here!

A couple of months passed and on a cold Sunday morning I was in my PJ’s reading the paper.  I heard a voice say to me, Go clean your car.   It was cold outside, and I had no idea where this out-of-the-blue message came from.  I decided to stay cozy and warm.

A sense of urgency, like a petulant child repeating a singular phrase over and over again filled my head. Clean your car.  Do it now. Clean it. Now! “Fine!”, I muttered. Jumping up, I grabbed a paper bag, and still wearing my PJ’s , went outside to unlock the car door.  I walked to the passenger’s side of my car and while placing my key in the lock, there on the car seat, was my right gold hoop earring.  Seeing that earring after months of disappearing reduced me to tears and a feeling of humbleness.  An apport symbolizing that the departed not only communicate, but are able to manifest physical proof, continues to strengthen my belief that we cannot define, in pragmatic terms, all that we experience.

Being granted this incredible gift of communication and confirmation of Spirit, I’ve often visited Sean’s gravesite in private or smoked the Canupa and offered special prayers to Tunkashila in gratitude for this experience.  The memory of his short time on Earth and the joy he brought those who knew him, no matter how brief, is one that will always be honoured out of respect for his love of family and friends.

Thinking on this experience stirred up the only other time I lost a right earring.  A year previous to Sean’s passing I was shopping in a store and lost my favorite silver hand-made earring.  I never heard it fall on the floor.  I even had the store manager check with the sweepers for two consecutive nights to see if it could be recovered.  It never was.

I keep the left silver Angel wing earring in my medicine bag.

Tags: Angel wing, Canupa, honouring those we love, medicine bag, Tunkashila