Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud
Asleep she said to sight and sound but living there within her mind, no movement will you ever see and yet she stirs from time to time, left to dream in blissful peace we take great care to protect her silence, knowing if she wakes too soon our lives are over.
Hushed and reverent are her keepers respectful of her need for quiet, work goes on to gently gather all that is wanted for survival, two legged, four legged, finned, and feathered, mineral, plant, even the weather, all bow before the beloved mist covered giant.
Strange sights are seen in times passage, yet none question the creatures her mind has manufactured, simple beauty wild and free, tangled forests or rivers deep, rough white waters before roaring falls, moss covered stones and still green pools.
Webs extend from coast to coast traveled by thoughts created by our host, none are better than the other all her children sisters and brothers; though at times we cannot escape her roaring madness we understand the sacrifices, times of warring to clear the fields for growing.
Each time the silence is broken she stirs to near waking and the troubles bring horror, time for change she seems to say you ask too much now you pay, once she even broke apart her body ripping away to separate the trouble makers, ice, heat, then flooding, she starts over.
The old ones smile as she trembles softly, tender sounds from a loving mother, the caretakers know it will not be long now a cycle in her sleep is changing, too much hurt and crying out what mother would not wake to tend beloved children’s needs and destroy the dangers?
Too often say the Elders we do not remember what we owe her, and like the spoiled children that we are take advantage of each other and our surroundings, fight and squabble amongst ourselves like all young demanding only the best, ahhhh, but sibling rivalry kills.
Nothing new or different in times passage, no revelations to our Creator, though from time to time lessons are learned and growth completed, given too much too soon makes us lazy and ungrateful instead of happiness we find we are unfulfilled and seeking something.
Yes, she is asleep yet to sight and sound but not emotion, as you can see her dreams are troubled, no movement will you see and yet she stirs in fitful spasms causing such waves of terror, as the ground shakes, the oceans roar, the deserts grow larger, and the children suffer.
It is we who wake her, as we struggle and send prayers asking more than our fair share, stomping our feet in temper tantrums, fighting with our siblings over what I ask you, always wanting what our brother has as it seems better than our own until we have it.
The old one chuckles softly shaking her head in wonder, living here with only what Mother Earth herself gifts and she gathers, poverty it is called by others and yet she has all that is needed, food, clothing, and shelter, she walks where she is needed on her own feet.
No worldwide travel yet she knows more than most, no schools or special training, no genius for money making, a simple hut of her own building, a cave deep and silent, corn, beans, and squash grown in the valley, medicine pure from the plant peoples, tell me, is she mistreated?
Here stands the last Keeper; knowing smile and peaceful acceptance, she says the time is coming, and I, I believe her; trust her ancient knowledge as I watch the troubled dreaming seeing with my own eyes exactly what the old one is saying, once there would be another training.
Are you ready to be that one?
©Copyright August 26, 2008 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud