Native Spirits & Spirit Pennies of Skamania Coves

I loved Scott’s suggestion to honor the Native people who once lived on our land. His idea to bless and cleanse the property seemed like the best way to do this. I reached out to a friend who practices Native American rituals and blessings. She didn’t hesitate in her acceptance.

We met at the Riverhouse’s gate entrance. I opened the double doors of the fence for her to enter. I wasn’t sure how this would go, what she would do, or how I could help. As if reading my mind, she handed me her basket of supplies. The cloth basket smelled of sage and lavender. I could see a cloth bag filled with dried herbs, long leaves of brown tobacco, a box of cornmeal, candles, a lighter, an abalone shell, feathers, and a medium sized drum with padded mallets. She walked around me and stood at the path.

“I’m feeling into the land and sensing what the land needs from me,” she said.

Slowly, she walked down the pebbled path, past the old garden shed and onto the lawn overlooking the river.

“Woah…the energy is so unsettled here. It’s making me motion sick,” she said, holding her arms out as if to steady herself. “There has been a lot of activity here…pain…. suffering…. fighting…. guns…. fear…. This is going to take work to get it back to its original, clear state.”

This information saddened me. The Riverhouse with its gorgeous views and surrounding lawn is very special. I didn’t want it to be anything but the beautiful and peaceful spot we designed it to be. I worried that by inviting her, I’d be told things about the land that I didn’t want to be true. I didn’t want this land to be anything but happy—as happy and grateful as we are with it.

Yet, I trusted this woman. I’ve worked with her before. I felt I had to see this through now that it started.

I followed her as she walked around the porch to the side of the house. I placed the basket on the steps and watched as she wandered to the far back corner of the property. She disappeared into the trees behind the hill. Curious, I hurried to catch up with her. She was in some sort of trance. Maybe following some kind of guidance? She dipped into the brush following a path used by wildlife to get down to the river. Then she stopped, bent down, and picked up a long narrow black feather.

“There you are,” she said to the feather. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Okay, things were getting interesting…. feathers were speaking to her…. and this was just the beginning.

STORY CONTINUES >>>>> CHAPTER FOUR: NATIVE MEDICINE