Teachers and mentors come in many forms and come in and out of your life on whims. You may not always recognize them as such. Honor your mentors. And even when they are no longer in your life, send them gifts of light and virtual hugs, and thank yous. Send blessings and strength. Or speak to them still if they have left this world.
I visited my beautiful Grandma and Grandpa yesterday. They are eighty-four and eighty-nine respectively. Grandma was perhaps one of my first mentors. She taught me things like, “There is always enough love to go around.” but she also taught me a little about how to control my intuition and senses of prophesy when I was a very young woman and didn’t know how. I learned a lot of things from her just from conversations and inquiring. I know my clairvoyance (more on that tomorrow) comes from her side of the family. It made me feel like I had a place in the world. That these gifts that I have, that she has, that my children have, are acceptable and normal for our family. It gave me a place. I always felt, even in the worst of times and those places of absolute alone, that my grandparents loved me. I know that time is ticking louder and each moment with them is precious.
My spiritual mentors started when I was in my thirties. One after another, in perfect time, I met them. I mad them all medicine in exchange. All four were of Native American descent, the first two were Apache women who looked like me. They taught me how to protect myself, how to smudge, how to work with the elements. The third was a man of Hopi descent, whom I have great respect for. I don’t see him very often anymore. He was the first HSP (highly sensitive person) that I had met and we connected instantly. He helped me understand it better. He taught me some of the things his mother taught him and we spoke of communities, and healing, and fear, and deciphering real from dangerous physics. He, with his generosity of opening his home to us when we were in need, opened my eyes to the incredible magic of nature and place, seeing things on his land I would never have believed.
My dear Comanche friend, the mentor I have been working with for years, who spoke to me (even though I am light skinned) with openness and honesty, let me assist him in ceremony, and taught me more about traditions, ceremonies, his memories, the way things need to be done, protection, healing, about my gifts and about my Native background than I could ever hope for. He was put in an assisted living this week by his family but no one I know knows where. Passages in and out of our life and space. I have a responsibility to keep his traditions and the ceremonies he taught me alive.
I am at the age where I am becoming a mentor. But I still feel like I need a mentor! It is an interesting juxtaposition. A space where I still want to learn but the elders are leaving through the veil or just moving on. Where people are coming to me for wisdom that I do not know if I carry.
Mentors should be honored, for it takes energy to speak and to look into what that person needs to learn. It takes time out of a busy life to teach. If you have a mentor, go straighten their home before sitting to listen. Take them to lunch. Give something in return. Thank them. For these mentors are filled with files of sage knowledge that they are passing on to you. Immeasurable gifts.