A Magical Evening

Last night was a magical evening. I mean that in the truest sense: a palpable energy of wisdom and respect to which Justin and I were present. In a meeting planned since last year, we hosted dinner for two indigenous elders who Justin works with and greatly respects. I won’t mention their names, since that privilege isn’t mine to give and since our evening was sacred and private until I’m advised otherwise.

I can, however, talk about the depth of these two women, both of whom have stories that would have them fit within the pantheon of Geadhain’s heroes. Again, those details aren’t mine to share, though I think it’s safe to talk about their presences, how they made me feel: small, at first, though that was my own inadequacy and fear rearing its head, then uplifted and grateful for having met these two forces of nature.

One elder, I felt, saw into my soul. I’m not speaking of that poetically. I mean that I experienced an initial shuddering discomfort when I realized that her twinkling blue gaze was peeling away the layers of my psyche like an onion—a sister to Morigan, perhaps! She was so tactile and sensitive a person: a well-placed touch upon the arm when asking a question, an assumed and confident intimacy. And there was no fear once I became used to that spiritual-nakedness, no sense of judgement, only one of great sight. I soon rediscovered my penchant for chatter; perhaps blathering more than I should. I suppose that the sense of ‘magic’ could simply be having met such an empathic woman.

Likewise, was I floored by the experiences and intelligence of our other companion. “Accomplished”, is a disservice. Sagacious, is probably more on the mark. She’s triumphant in nearly every field in which she’s dabbled. She has children—both biological and not (though parentage is far more than blood)—who are artists and leaders in their fields. And she was sitting at our table breaking bread and listening to our stories. We spoke about politics, indigenous affairs, feminism, Bernie Sanders, populism, hope, love and more. Really, given another hour or had we arranged for them to spend the night, we would have talked until the well and wee hours of the morn.

I could have picked either woman’s mind and experiences forever, because there were stories upon stories, heredity upon heredity woven upon itself into a tapestry of ancient and profound culture. I just wanted to thank my husband, the Creator, and these daughters of Hers for coming to our house last night, and for sharing and emboldening me with their wisdom.

I couldn’t have had a better night. I feel as if I’ve met two of the Sisters Three, and it’s a memory I shall cherish forever.

All my love,


P.S. On a less awestruck note, I don’t know what kind of mystic face-cream these women are using, but they were practically ageless.