The Shaman Child

She is my teacher, my guide. But I left her in the forest long ago for a foreign life that I was told I wanted. I did not know what damage I would do with this action – this neglect. Sure, I would check in on her from time to time and find her sitting there, covered with her blanket. She seemed to be chanting. It seemed a very private moment to me so I left her alone......and continued my journey. Numb. Unfeeling. Indifferent. It’s been very long for me - full of sleepless nights of questions of “How” and “Why?” Trying to figure my way through troubles. Falling down  Getting up. Falling down again.......I am very tired.

Now, that existence is falling apart, crumbling like a wall that can no longer bear its own weight. I am uncertain and sometimes scared. I want to run away but feelings of responsibility linger even though I don’t know what I can do. I don’t want to be covered with the dust of this wall and die choking. I become still and I hear her voice calling me. I go to the forest now and I am walking and walking until I find my way back to my child. She is there, sitting and chanting, wrapped in her blanket. I become still again and listen. I hear her chant. It is a prayer. A prayer for me to come back.

My heart breaks and opens and I feel the softness within. She feels my presence and stops. She stands up and faces me. We look at each other for a moment. Silent. She is dirty faced, scratched and messy haired. She has bruises here and there and her clothing and blanket are tattered and torn. But she is a beautiful child – a beautiful soul that has been aching for my presence. My energy. She is at once, afraid, strong, loving, angry, wary and weary. She is forgiving.....

She looks into me with her clear blue eyes and conveys how much she has missed me. She has a hard time trusting that I will stay but at the same time, opens her arms to welcome me back. The softness inside me makes me go to her. We fall arm in arm and hold each other. We cry together in Love. There….in the middle of the forest….. 

     It’s alright now.

               We are here.

                          We are home…..


Pamela Mortensen,  27 March, 2016