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I’ve been thinking of my Grandmother, Miss Tossie Miller. My Grandmother was born in 1897 and passed away in 1987. She was 90, the number of completion. She was the Matriarch. My Grandmother was and still is the head of The Family. The grace, laughter, love and wisdom she bestowed upon us still reverberates. I have her Fan. The Fan she used when she went to church. The Fan she held when she sang her gospel songs as Deaconess. Her Fan hangs in my office. It is the Fan I’ve used upon occasion when I sage or smudge.

My Grandmother knew who I was. And while her Savior was Jesus, she knew my connection to The Divine was different but no less valid. In the span of her lifetime, she went from the horse and buggy to seeing men go to the moon. So much changed. And. So. Much. Did. Not. I am thinking of the fortitude it took to live her life and it become hollow with bitterness or frozen numb by the constant press of white supremacy upon her beautiful dark skin. Her compassion was not dimmed by the hardness of the times she lived in.

And here we are in this Moment. This chaotic node, this transfer point for multiple Time-Lines. The thought of my Grandmother moves and sustains me. I remember her smile. I remember doing the Tango with her, dancing in her sweet country kitchen, laughing. I remember the last time I saw my Grandmother and how she looked into my Being, already moving toward The Other Side, her sight illuminated by the glow from another, deeper and richer World.

I endeavor to make myself available to the Wisdom of My Ancestors and their extraordinary will to live and thrive, to be open to the signs and omens that speak to and through me. We are standing at the Threshold of an unknown dawn. We are standing at the Nexus Point, the names of our Ancestors tattooed upon our hearts and singing in our blood. Let us sing their Songs well and create a day full of a thousand glorious Harmonies.

Bright Blessings My Beloved Wolf Pack.

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