Native Spirits & Spirit Pennies of Skamania Coves

Shaken (not stirred), we gathered ourselves together and finished the protection of the Overlook. Since the High House wasn’t built yet, it was an easy and quick smudge over its open floor plan.

We loaded up her car and drove to the cul-de-sac of the Bluff House, Beacon Rock and Sternwheeler Condos. After a quick tour of the newly built houses, she deemed their energy clean and fresh.

“I’ll do the same ritual as I did at the Riverhouse, this will clear the land under and around the homes.”

We used the back of her car as our prep station. She refilled the shell and the bowl of cornmeal. Then she went and stood in the middle of the gravel circle, facing the Bluff House.

“It seems fitting that we are standing in a circle. I will use it as a medicine wheel and do the clearing four times, honoring the four directions. We follow the path of the sun by beginning facing the East, then the South, to the West, and end honoring the North.”

I watched as she recreated the dance of tying knots and weaving an energetic net and like a Native fisherman, she threw it up and out and under where we stood. After, she pulled out the leftover energy and released it to the sky. Then she turned and faced the river and repeated the same ritual, chanting as she moved, praying as she released.

When she turned and faced West, she paused. She looked up and pointed at the hill toward where the High House would be built. To the left of its foundation is our watershed.

“Cinda, up there…by the watershed…I see an older Native woman. She is cutting her long gray hair,” my friend pantomimed the act of combing and cutting her own hair. “She is in mourning, there’s been a death….”

She took a deep breath. I held mine.

“And over there, up on top of that hill…” she pointed to the right, to the top of the high rock outcropping south of the High House location, “there is another Native woman, a young adult. She is overlooking the river, still waiting for her husband to come home from fishing….”

Without missing a step, without hesitation, without concern for what she just shared with me, she continued with the West facing cleansing ritual. As she moved and wove and tied her energetic knots, I stared at the hillside, at the two women I couldn’t see.

There were rumors of the old High House being haunted, was it these women mourning the loss of their loved ones?

My friend turned to face North, toward the Condos. She began the ritual, the dance, the chanting once more. As she lifted her arms to release the energy into the air, she stopped mid raise and brought her arms back to her sides. She took a few steps forward in complete concentration for what was in front of her.

I followed, glancing around for a hint of what captured her attention.

“What?” I whispered.

She hushed me by waving her hand downward. It appeared that she was seeing something and perhaps even communicating with someone.

“Cinda….,” she whispered. “As I was pulling up the energetic remains, it appears I’ve uncovered a burial site of some kind. There’s an exposed wooden platform over there. A man in full warrior or chieftain dress is laying on top of it.” She pointed to the left side of the Beacon Rock Condo.

“He is sitting up now. He’s talking to me,” she took a few steps closer. I remained where I stood.

“He’s asking who we are? What are we doing….? Why are we here?” She was obviously silently communicating with this warrior, this chieftain, this ghost, and translating what he was saying to me. I did not know how to respond, or if I should. I remained quiet.

She continued, “I feel that this must be his land…. I think this is where his people, his tribe lived. Cinda, this is his home….”

“Is he upset? Is he warning us to leave?” I asked petrified by what she was relaying.

“No, he is curious. He is giving us the benefit. I am telling him who I am….” She grew quiet as she communicated this to him. “I am telling him that you and Scott are the new stewards of the land… that you asked me to cleanse and bless his land, to bring it back to its original state and essence….”

She paused in conversation, “He is asking if I trust these new stewards…. I am telling him that I have known you for years and that, yes, I do trust you…. I am telling him that your husband’s vision for the property is great….is peaceful, respectful.” Pause…. “He is saying that he has not been able to rest…. For centuries this land has not been cared for…. He is hopeful…. I am assuring him that the reason I am here is to offer him that hope….”

Pause…. I took a deep, much needed breath and tried to calm my nerves. 

“I feel that I have convinced him of your intention and mine…. I am now offering to escort him away if he would like to leave….”

I cautiously scooted up to my friend and whispered, “He doesn’t need to leave. We can share this land with him and his people.”

I thought of the spirit pennies and the game we played with the Native spirits. My intention was not to make them leave, but to bring them peace of mind. To live with and among them if that was possible.

“No, he is ready to leave. Oh my….” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Cinda, there is a line of warriors that have appeared. They are standing in a row along the driveway….”

She pointed to where she could see them standing. I looked too. Although I couldn’t see what she did, I could visualize. It was breathtaking.

“The old woman who was cutting her hair has come down…. Awe…they’re reunited. The other woman is their daughter, she has joined them too…”

I envied the movie that was playing out in front of us. I wished I could see it with her.

“The Warriors, they are here to escort him away…. Oh Cinda, they are walking toward the river…over the water… …and they are gone... gone downstream.”

Transfixed by what she had just witnessed, neither of us could speak right away. We stood side by side in silence honoring the profound experience.

Still, there was something she didn’t know…. Something I had to tell her. Something that would validate all of this….

STORY CONTINUES >>>>> CHAPTER EIGHT: THE OFFERING