Speaking With Little Bear
As I watch the smoke form itself upward, away from the fire, I clearly see myself
as a Native American, and this smoke as a signal.
This must be how we leave our bodies, I say to my spirit guide, Little Bear.
He laughs.
I cannot see him, but I often hear his laughter in the woods.
When we leave, do we go hard and fast? Do we get a chance to give a last wave or a backward glance?
The only answer is the popping of the fire.
I watch the smoke signals float high up, into the orange and brown leaves of a giant sycamore tree.
The signal disappears as if by magic, as if it was swallowed up by an invisible hawk.
It must be a relief to leave the confining physical body, I say.
I sit quietly, waiting, but my guides are in no mood to play.
I watch the fire a bit longer, thinking that it might be a relief especially to leave behind an aging or diseased physical body.
But what about those who are not aging and do not have a disease?
What about a healthy person who suddenly leaves their body?
Surely they have different feelings about leaving that kind of body.
Do they get to wave or even glance backwards?
The answers are all around me.
I sit quietly, staring into the fire, waiting.
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