Coyote Drum

An unexpected space opened up in my oft very full calendar... It is a grey Alberta "spring" day, the temperature hovering around zero and the snow softly falling outside my picture window. 

I rejoice in this bonus "me time" by first sitting down to finish the book I am reading. I figure it should take me about 40 minutes to finish the book and I'm close, it takes me 35.

Afterwards, noticing that I have five extra minutes of "open" time and space, I decide to open Facebook.

Lately I have been noticing that some folks have been posting their "status updates" on some kind of coloured background, their words standing out in big, white, block-y letters.

Ever the curious one, I start pushing buttons, trying to figure out if this is a built-in Facebook thing or an add-on. I quickly find the place where I too, can proclaim my deep wisdom for the day against the background colour of my choice.

Feeling particularly mindful, I pause, close my eyes, breathe in, and allow whatever deep thoughts I have to share to come forward.

And... there aren't any.

Instead, I get this loud, almost booming-God-like message from my heart: 

"You have sat around long enough. It is time now to ACT."

Hmmm.  Interesting.

Instantly I know what I must do next. It is an item that I have had on my "to-do" list for 22 months. One that I have been kicking ahead of me, truly afraid to actually do it, lest I totally screw it up.

It was time to paint my drum.

I made this drum in the Shaman's Path program, a one-year journey about incorporating the teachings of the medicine wheel into your life. As participants, we each made a drum - cedar rings with deer hide skin. We (co)created our drums in the south, using the element of fire to help us to transform them into powerful tools for healing. 

It was that around that same time that I received clarity about my medicine name, and my connection to my sacred brother Coyote.

I knew back then that in addition to making my drum, I must also paint it. 

I also knew that I didn't need to do that right away, that I could sit with it and see what came forward. 

And so, I set about building a relationship with this sacred, special drum. Timid and shy at first, she grew in power and confidence the more I played her, as did I.

About six months ago, it became clear that it was time to paint her. I began sketching drawings and ideas. None of them seemed "good enough". I did not trust in my own painting abilities. What if I screwed it up? Rendered my special tool useless, or ugly?

I ignored her calling and put away my sketches and instead left it on my "to-do" list (this is a literal list, one that my co-workers tease me about). Every time I'd finish everything else on the list, I'd simply start a new list, and add "paint drum" to the bottom all over again.

Today, sitting in the stillness of my home, I knew it was finally time to set aside my fears and my stories of lack and do what I know needed doing. 

I had everything that I needed. I had a clear vision (or I thought I did) of what I was to paint and I had purchased all of the necessary painting supplies months ago.

It came quickly, easily even. After briefly sketching the outline of the image, I simply dove in, trusting the process.

Towards the end of the process, it became clear that I needed to add in the elements of day and night. Of dawn. 

Ant then... Lighting. The thought streaking from my mind to my heart, electrifying my soul.

I am Nahanni, Dancing Coyote Woman. I help to guide people through the dark night of their soul so that they can once again walk in the light... And I'm damn good at it too.

This is my Why. It is my path. It is my purpose.

Holy. Shit.

I have to say. I didn't see that coming.