Grandmother Rainmaker’s Wisdom

 Grandmother Rainmaker’s Wisdom 

 “…. you may move away from the light and shadow may fall on you.  This is life and its trends that weave throughout our minds constantly.   This is the testing and forming of life and our evolution.  Just do not forget to leave markers along the way.   The trickster will fool you and confuse you, yet you will remember when you see your markers, where you came from and who you are, and how to return.  Listen while I can speak and you can hear me still.   Where you are going, you will not hear me and we will die.  The me that is part of we, asks why???

You have been called to great things and they are accomplished in ordinary living.  Watch how all things migrate as the seasons come and change again and again.   Even love changes.  It must to grow.  I am always here.  Trouble yourself not as to being lost from me.   In every given breath, I am.  To remember our laughter is to call forth the light again.  The shadow cannot change love.   You are loved always.  Friends are warm blankets on cold journeys.  Those who have accepted you as you arrived and celebrated your joy at growing, do not question or turn away.   They have loved you exposed and at your worst; it is easy at your best.

See this Hopi Village?  Many visitors come here and ask how old our village is.   We say as old as man’s desire to make a better world.  And they ask us, ‘Yes, but why here and why like this at this time?  Why you?’

I think about this.  Now I say to them, ‘If not here, where?   If not Hopi, who?  If not now, when?’  They smile with their faces, and in their eyes, I see they do not hear me, because I am saying what is too painful for them.

You have come with your people.  In your eyes I saw no question, but an answer.   The mountain will take this Village again.  We will be a stone like our Shrines.  You will come here and remember one day after the change, but today your people must learn how to make a Village that will last as long as this old one.

And one day in a better world there will not be such questions.  The desert is alive with plants and flowers all the time.   You are just farther away in the Spring, so you look more closely.  All that is new, must grow old.  All that ‘is,’ stays the same.

Look there on the road, a person is lost.  Will you help him?   How?  What if you do not know where this place is he is trying to find?  Life is simple to a Hopi.  I will tell him to stay where he is at, or go back where he came from.  It is all the same.  It is himself that he needs to arrive.

Confusion is like my yarn.  When I am not being mindful of what I am doing, a mind full of questions is hell, of this I am sure.   This man asked me, ‘Where is there some entertainment out here in this deserted place?’  I said to him, ‘It is not deserted here.   Come with me at four o’clock in the morning.  I will introduce you to hundreds of people.’  He did.  After the day was done and all the Corn was given a drink, we sat and ate and drank water.  He asked, ‘When will all the people come?’  I said to him, ‘They are here now.   We have been talking to them all morning.’  He said to me, ‘I thought you were praying as you watered the corn.’   Well, I guess some people are just able to see themselves.  Yes, that person could need some entertainment.

Look here child, this is called the Hollow Mesa.  It is a mountain that never rose to its height.   One man said, it did not know.  Another man said, it did not hear.  A third man said, it must be a mistake.

My Grandfather said, ‘A mountain knows it is a mountain, it hears.  There is no mistake.   It is a mountain.  It simply does not make a difference of up or down, in or out.’

I took this child here to hear the winds in Hollow Mesa.  I told her to listen to them.   I said to her,  ‘Many say they cry out here.  Is this what you hear?’  She responded to me, ‘I hear laughter.’   I asked, ‘How is that?’  And she began to laugh loudly, and her laughter echoed throughout the Hollow Mesa.  When the mountain echoed back to her, I was so startled, I joined them.  When we were exhausted from our laughter and lay spent in each others arms on the rim of the Mesa, I felt her tears fall on my face, and she tasted as the salt of the Earth.

‘Child of the Spirit, I tell you, man is like this Hollow Mesa, empty and secret.  When his heart does not rise to the winds and face the sunrise, it is a Life that cannot happen.   A dream cannot live without a Spirit.’

Come now and let this Old Rainmaker show you the veils of time and you will know much and then go write it. So we go.”

© 1989 Pa’Ris’Ha