Mumblings & Musings ~ December 2009

Do you ever have those spontaneous moments when a little light of insight seems to sparkle in your mind? You don’t know where the insight came from, or why it appeared when it did . . . but you know it’s meaningful.

This just now happened to me. I was washing dishes and listening to the local country western radio station (which I only do when my husband is out of the house because he’s fairly rabid regarding his dislike of country music.) Suddenly—between scouring an egg-encrusted pan and scrubbing a well-loved mixing bowl—there was a flash and I knew the word.

The “word” isn’t like the word of God or anything like that. It’s an actual word that I’d been looking for . . . and I knew what it was!!!

About 14 years ago, my uncle created a kind of spiritual test for me. He wanted me to divine a Cherokee word that he was repeating in his mind. (I’m Cherokee on my mother’s side, but I don’t know many words in the Cherokee language. My uncle, however, spoke some Cherokee.) I was only given one chance to get it right. Since I really wanted to make my uncle proud—it seemed like I would pass some kind of invisible spiritual marker in his mind when I successfully accomplished this task—I decided to take my time before answering.

My uncle was an amazing human being. Although the idea of the “noble Indian” was really a myth perpetuated by Hollywood, he truly was noble. He was a man of very few words, but he lived in a gracious, humble way and understood the flow of nature. I admired him so much that I didn’t want to disappoint him. As the days turned into years, I prayed in sweat lodges to find the right word and I asked for guidance while out in nature, but I was never sure and didn’t want to take the chance of being wrong.

A few years ago, my uncle passed away. I grieved his death, and I grieved that I had been too afraid to venture a guess. Once he left this world, I figured I would never know what the word was and never pass his spiritual test.

Then today, while washing the dishes and not thinking about anything in particular—in fact, I was thinking about the coyote that chased our dog, Sadie, today—the word just slipped into my heart. Wado. This Cherokee word means “thank you.”

I wasn’t on a vision quest or in a sweat lodge. I wasn’t praying or meditating. The answer to my uncle’s question arrived softly like the morning mists that creep into the valley here at Summerhill Ranch. It just slid past my fear of not doing things perfectly and past the hesitation of taking a risk . . . and lodged itself in my heart. Wado. It was simple, yet, profound. I know that this is the word he wanted me to find. It was always there . . . I just never saw it.

My Uncle told me that Native Americans never understood the Western way of praying—the Western way of praying is to ask for things—because the Native American way of praying is to give thanks. The Cherokees, he said, gave thanks for the sun rising, for the rains, for the coming of light and the coming of darkness, for the trees, and for the bountiful harvest of the land. Living in a state of gratitude was thought to be holy. Being grateful was sacred.

The Solstice

As we are at the Winter Solstice—a time that to ancient cultures was the holiest time of the year since it initiates a time of new beginnings as once again the world is renewed as we go from the darkness into the light. It is upon the eve of the solstice that I offer you my heart in the spirit of wado. Thank you for being in my life. May the changing of the seasons bring you, even more, into a place of immense gratitude and awe of the wonders within and around you.

Happy Holidays to you! May this coming year be filled with immense blessings and love!!!

Wado!