Training angels

Sunday Morning Dream ❤️

In my dream, I found myself in a mystical realm that felt like ‘heaven’, a place where the air shimmered with warmth and light, a familiar embrace that wrapped around me like a beloved blanket. Here, I was guiding a group of new ‘angels’ in the art of healing, much like I do in the world I know.

I crafted a schedule and gathered workers to share their wisdom with these fresh spirits, teaching them how to nurture and mend the wounds of the heart and soul. The angels were innocent, unaware of their true nature, like babies just learning to walk. It wasn’t about rank or hierarchy; it felt more like stepping into a sacred role where the currency was love, not money, and the responsibilities were boundless.

As my time in this radiant place came to a close, a wave of sorrow washed over me, anchored by the turmoil I felt on earth. My heart ached, tears streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t feel a sense of loss in leaving. It was more like moving to a space just next door, or perhaps down a flight of stairs.

Back on earth, I saw my ‘dad’—a man living on the streets, hungry and lost. My brother, also one of the angel trainers, rushed to his side, offering help. I could feel the weight of his compassion as he reached out. In that moment, I also saw another man caught in a storm of violence, shooting and fighting in a war. Yet, even in that chaos, love pulsed through him, drawing me back to embody his spirit.

Everything felt interconnected; a father was not just a father to his own but to all who needed guidance. Once you learned the essence of fatherhood, you became a father in spirit to everyone. The same held true for my brother—he was a brother because he embraced that role, and together we worked in harmony. Our shared father was the Great Spirit, who guided us all.

I watched as the angels practiced moving spirit within bodies to heal, their essence shining bright like little suns. Just before my departure from this ethereal realm, one curious angel asked me how I healed on earth. I demonstrated, using my hands to find the pain, speaking gently to the person, knowing the rest was already understood.

The dream felt long and rich, filled with meaning and connection.

When I awoke, I rushed to share my experience with my mom. With a twinkle in her eye, she laughed and said, “And you showed them how to blow away the sickness?” 😂



Popular posts from this blog

Bear with hanging tongue

Image
The bear with the tongue hanging out of its mouth is not what you think.  Gather around, and let me share a story that carries the weight of our history, a tale that speaks of resilience and survival. Many people do not understand the significance of the tongue, often mistaking it as merely a feature of the bear. But there is much more to this story, one that we must keep alive as our Aboriginal stories, culture, and beliefs are too often appropriated for the profit of others. In our tradition, totem poles are read from the bottom up, with the tribe usually depicted at the base. It is important to note that the Gitxsan do not have a bear tribe. Instead, the bear symbolizes Russia, a powerful force that once threatened our lands. Long ago, the West Coast nations—including the Gitxsan, Nisga'a, Haida, and others—joined together to stand against Russia when they began to claim our traditional territories and take our people as slaves. Among those who suffered was a woman from th...
Read more

When the food drops

Image
I learned a lot from my grandfather and my parents just by watching them every day. We didn’t talk much about spirituality; we just lived it. Spirituality runs deep in our upbringing; it’s something that flows through our blood and is passed down by our ancestors who have gone before us. Our beliefs aren’t fancy or dramatic—there's no fire and lightning, just the spirit. We used to respect all of life, knowing that spirits are present in everything, including ourselves. God is within us and beside us; every thought we have is a prayer. I should mention that medicine can be used for harm too. Thoughts filled with hatred can be prayers as well. Some people who mix their medicine with bad intentions are called Hel'dow'gwit, or witchcraft. Over the past 50 years, many Gitxsan have changed and evolved. Sweat lodges, which were once only for hunting preparation, are now spaces for prayers and healing. Traditional gatherings have transformed into Healing Circles where we talk abou...
Read more

Burning

Image
Too often, our Gitxsan culture is romanticized, which can create an illusion that it is unattainable or far removed from the realities of our daily lives. This perception can make it seem uninviting to our young people, who may feel disconnected from the traditions and values that define us. We must remember to light the fire, to gather together, and to prepare meals with love for our family and friends. The act of burning food is not a failure but a reminder of our humanity and the lessons we learn along the way. Each meal shared is an opportunity to connect, to nurture, and to honor those we cherish. Every thought is a prayer. When we think of our loved ones who have journeyed on, they are with us in spirit, surrounding us with their love and gratitude for the respect and intention we hold in our hearts. It is in these moments that we can feel their presence, reminding us of the strength of our connections and the importance of our cultural practices. Let us not shy away from the imp...
Read more