Gray Antelope, the medicine man, spread turkey feathers on the floor in front of the door to the medicine room. His age was impossible to determine, his knowledge spoke of years, yet his hair was still shiny black and his skin smooth. He had the wisdom of age yet kept the intensity and vigor of youth. He was patriarch, elder, wiseman, trickster, teacher and friend. His quiet dignity and serious demeanor was offset by the twinkle in his eye. It was if he knew a secret and was waiting for others to discover it.
Antelope was dressed in blue jeans and a blue wool plaid shirt, mocassins on his feet, bear claw choker around his neck. Bending over, he laid out long feathers and short feathers, some smooth and sharp-edged, some soft and downy. He created a small brown carpet of feathers. Ross, his friend and student, watched in quiet anticipation, wondering what was to come, wondering what the medicine man had decided to share.
When he finished placing the feathers, Antelope straightened up and said, "Take off your shoes." Never questioning, Ross slipped off his shoes and waited until Antelope motioned for him to come. Carefully, he made his way around the feathers, walking to the right side of them, not wanting to disturb the pattern that the medicine man had so carefully laid out. Standing at his side, Ross waited for Antelope to show him what to do. But Antelope simply looked at Ross expectantly.
Perhaps, Ross thought, he was to choose one of the feathers to use in healing work. He started to kneel down to make his selection when Antelope placed his hand gently on his arm and sent him back to his starting place.
"Try it again," Antelope encouraged.
Bewildered, Ross looked at Antelope across the feather patch in unspoken question. Antelope looked back with a small smile and nodded his head. Ross stared at the feathers and wondered if the direction of his movement was important and so changed direction and walked to the left, clockwise, again taking care not to disturb a single feather.
"Try again," Antelope said.
Again Ross returned to the opposite side of the feather barrier. He stared down at
the feathers, trying to figure out what was required. He stood there for quite some time. The feathers waited. Antelope watched. Ross could hear a stern voice inside his head scolding, "Don't step on the feathers, you'll crush them. You'll spoil the design. You'll ruin it. Be careful. Watch what you're doing. You'll never get it right!" It was that voice that whispers and nags, ever ready to criticize and judge. It was the voice that belittles and shames, the voice held since childhood, the voice that hinders and causes one to stumble.
Ross studied the feathers, seeing each one, seeing each unique shape, each color, seeing that some were white-tipped and some were iridescent, seeing the pattern they made on the floor, seeing the spaces between the feathers.
That's it, he thought as he moved forward on tiptoe, finding small places between the feathers to place his toes. He would not spoil the design. He avoided stepping on the feathers, but his movement stirred the air and the feathers rippled gently like a small sea stirred by a breeze. When he reached the other side he was certain that he had made the right move. He was certain that he had succeeded. He smiled at Antelope with pride but merely received a nudge sending him back to the far side.
We could be at this all day, Ross thought. He felt frustrated and at odds with the feathers. He wanted to do it, whatever it was, right. He wanted to find the right answer. But with Gray Antelope, finding the right answer was not always the point. There were many right answers, each one unique to the person seeking and each one right.
In the medicine house, one plus one did not always equal two. Ross could not rely on past experience; he could not rely on what had worked before; he could not rely on what he knew or rather what he thought he knew. This was not the kind of puzzle that one could reason out. The answer had to reveal itself and that could take some time. Antelope had infinite patience. If it took days for spirit to speak, he would wait. If it took weeks, he would wait.
Ross closed his eyes and stood in silence waiting for inspiration. He took a deep breath and stilled his mind. He let go of outcome. He stood for some time, seeing the feather pattern, like a mandala, in his mind's eye. The image became softer, blurred around the edges. He felt calm, he felt still, he felt in tune. Ross felt Antelope's gaze upon him, reaching across the space between them. He opened his eyes and looked down at the beautiful feathers, they no longer seemed a barrier. He knew what to do but still felt afraid and anxious. He stepped forward.
The voices raged inside his head, "Don't do it! You're making a mistake." Then, he laughed and like a small child taking his first steps, he walked upon the feathers. He felt gleefully defiant. All the scolding voices melted away, bereft of their power. Awkwardly, he lifted each foot and placed it down on the soft brown feather carpet. He struggled for balance. The feathers gave beneath the weight of his feet and sprang back to their original shape when the weight was lifted. They moved in partnership, the feathers and the man. Ross felt a childish joy. Walking on the feathers was like walking on air. He felt renewed. He felt what it was to be ten-months-old, learning to walk with his gentle father guiding him. He could feel his father's strong hand upon his small arm. He could feel trust and security. It was so simple.
After Ross had walked upon the feathers, he stood next to Antelope, feeling as if he had just returned from a long journey. It seemed as if much time had passed. He had lost the voices of disbelief and doubt. He felt an incredible freedom and sense of peace. Antelope placed his hand on Ross's arm and remained silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, "Now you are ready to see the medicine."
Without ceremony, Antelope drew back the cloth that hung over the door to the medicine room and pushed opened the door. Through the doorway, Ross could see a dimly-lit room, its windows covered with plain curtains. It was an ordinary room in an ordinary house transformed by magic. It was the medicine room in the medicine house, the house of the healer.
Crossing the threshold, they stepped into a world where all time seemed to be happening at once; past, present and future ran concurrently. Everything in the room was covered with a fine dust of corn meal, giving the room the appearance of a thousand-year-old tomb. The walls held images of power animals and photographs of loved ones. The floor was covered with a buffalo robe, deerskins, eagle feathers, bird wings, rattles, shells, stones, headdresses, and pieces of ceremonial dress. Eagle, turtle, deer, buffalo and antelope all danced together. There was water in a bowl on the altar. Each object in the room had a special purpose for use in ceremony, dancing, singing or healing. All had been passed down through generations.
It was the first time that Ross had stepped into the medicine room. The feather crossing had been a test, an invitation or initiation. Antelope had opened the door and Ross felt honored.
"I have something for you. It is special medicine that you will need," Antelope said and handed Ross a long wool sash. "It was woven by a very old Navajo woman. It may be the last one she makes," he added as Ross looked at the red and green belt. A large white seashell hung from the center of the sash and large dark feathers were sewn to the sides.
"Where does she live?" Ross asked.
"Everywhere," Antelope answered. "The buzzard feathers are for work with cancer. The buzzards eat away the decay. They clear away what is no longer needed," Antelope explained. "The shell is mother ocean. It has been touched by many people and holds their prayers. The shell is like breath coming from the mouth." Ross ran his hands over the surface of the fan-shaped shell. His fingers traced the ridges that started at the bottom of the shell and radiated out to the upper edge. The ridges felt like ribs in the human body.
"As we age and take on more burdens, our bodies contract, pulled down by gravity. The ribs move closer together and the internal organs are compressed. This can cause illness. Use the feathers to open the ribs, the shell for the breath. You will know what to do when the time comes," Antelope advised.
Ross placed the sash around his neck, the large shell laid flat against his back. The tails of the sash trailed down his chest with the fringed ends dangling below his waist. The buzzzard feathers, each over a foot long, hung within easy reach of his hands. Ross took a feather in his right hand and made a slicing motion in the air. It felt right.
"You will know," Antelope repeated.
Standing in the medicine, surrounded by ancient wisdom, sacred objects
around his feet, Ross felt connected to all things. It felt as if the sky and the earth swirled together and spun around him. He could feel spirit seep up through the soles of his feet and move up to tickle his heart into a big smile.
"Ho, my brother," Antelope said with his own smile.
