Native Spirits & Spirit Pennies of Skamania Coves

After we finished clearing the Riverhouse we packed up her belongings, locked up the house, and drove up to the Overlook.

The Overlook is the original house on the property. We used it for storage and as a workroom while we built the other houses. We weren’t yet sure what our plans were for it, we only knew we had to protect its beautiful wood inlaid ceiling.

We went into the kitchen and unpacked her basket. She decided we would smudge the house first, so we opened all the doors and windows to allow the smoke to carry the cleansed energies out. Then, I lit the dried plants and carried the smoking shell as she walked the rooms and she beat her drum.

“I hear children, many of them laughing and running through the house,” she mentioned.

Interestingly, she didn’t know that the Brooks, who originally owned this land and built the houses, had many foster children. Some of the children’s names are carved into the glorious wooden ceiling.

When we walked into the back bedroom, she stopped beating the drum. “There is anger in this room. Voices are raised, maybe even violence. I hear a woman screaming, ‘Stop!’ She’s in a wheelchair, over there in that corner, her hands raised, covering her face.”

She pounded her drum and chanted in a firm demanding tone. She told me to take extra time to wave the feather and guide the smoke through the room and out the open windows.

“What you saw… it was recent?” I asked.

“Yes, it could be residual energy from any of the tenants. It is fortunate that this beautiful home can let that go now.”

We then went outside to protect the perimeter with cornmeal. At that time, access to the attic was under the carport. A set of stairs were enclosed with a door that locked on the outside. She pointed at the door.

“Does this go anywhere?” she asked. “An attic? We should smudge this too!”

I lifted the pin that held the latch in place and opened the door. Curious, my friend took a couple steps up and immediately turned around, “I’m not going up there! No WAY! You go.”

What?

“Cinda, you will be safe. But I can’t… I can’t,” she said.

I figured since I couldn’t sense or see what she could, my ignorance was my safety. At least that’s what I told myself. 

She gave me the refilled shell and lit the mixture. I climbed the dark narrow stairwell, slowly and cautiously taking one step at a time. I led with the shell extended above me. It grew hotter in my hand as the smoke billowed and curled and expanded in intensity.

Below, my friend chanted and beat her drum.

When the shell reached the level of the floor of the attic, a strong breeze suddenly swept up the staircase. I gasped in surprise. I felt it blow around me and watched as it took the smoke with it. The embers flared, the shell grew almost too hot to handle and the smoke grew thicker as it filled the dark dense space.

My friend beat her drum with more force and chanted even louder.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” I whispered. “What do I do?”

She kept beating the drum and chanting.

As quickly as the gust of air had arrived, it turned and exited down the stairs, carrying the smoke with it.

I screamed and ducked my head as the breeze blew through my hair.

Behind me, I heard my friend scream, “Shit!”

She had set the intention to cleanse the land, homes, and spaces, with the sacred medicine from the land. She had set into motion the healing through her drumming and chanting. We had just witnessed the power of this intention.

What could possibly top this…...?

STORY CONTINUES >>>>> CHAPTER SEVEN: THE RECKONING