Gentle reverberations from bongos ease through my muscles and reach my marrow. The woman's pretty, pretty voice is lulling me. "Oooom naaamo." I sink deeper into softness. My thoughts travel to my friend, Morning Star who is spending her birthday in a sweat lodge 2000 miles away from me. I'd love to text her to respond to the e-mail she sent me thanking me for holding her, two years ago, in hot springs, as she breathed, meditated and opened herself to a new phase of her life. I want to text her now as back up to the e-mail I responded with which said "You're welcome. I love you." I want to text her to say "I'm with you now. I've got your back while you are in the lodge being carried father along your journey. "
I realize I can't text her because her phone number is not in my phone. (Deep exasperated sigh and a one handed eye and forehead rub.) I'll have to settle for the connection we have which is above and beyond technology. The connection which woke her to a remembrance of me holding her in the waters. The connection which spoke to me while Cindy Morning Star was feeling the memory and at the same time I was serving a cup of coffee to a cowboy and thinking "I've gotta' call Cindy and ask her advice on opening a healing center."
The woman with the pretty voice started the song by singing, "Let us free each other with our prayers, with our voice."
Tears roll down my checks as I feel the love we are all generating. I'm walking to the bathroom and let them roll. Maybe Julie will see me crying. She's passing back and forth, in and out of the house, as she prepares her healing room for the breathing circle she's leading tonight. If she sees my tears I'll just say "I've been talking to Cindy." I'll be a mile way from Julie's healing room while she's leading her circle. And I'll be in her healing room at the same time.
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