The Grandfathers

Some of the strongest feelings come to me when I am alone in the woods.

In those quiet places, I sometimes feel the presence of the grandfathers — the ancestors. Not as beings who can help me or speak to me, but simply as a quiet presence. I know this feeling comes from inside my own mind, yet it still feels important to acknowledge them.

Stories from Tom Brown Jr.’s books often come to mind in these moments. When his teacher, Grandfather, wanted the young boy to learn patience and awareness, he would simply say, “Go feed the birds.”

Another time, after the boy had killed his first deer, he was overcome with disgust at what he had done. Grandfather looked at him and said, “Grandson, when you can feel the same way about breaking a blade of grass as you do about that deer, then you will understand.”

I burn sage and speak to the ancestors and grandfathers, not because I believe they can hear me, but because it feels right to show respect for those who walked here long before me. I don’t care for labels. What I feel doesn’t need a name. It simply is.