We have squatted by many rivers, washed many bowls - bowls of wood, bowls of clay, bowls of stone, bowls of shell, bowls of bone, we have carved, lovingly, the Mother with our hands swirling it round and round with the water sound. We have made many circles worked many fabrics together, cleaned many hides together, shuttled many looms together, strung many beads together, pulled many feathers together, painted many colors together, told many stories together. We have worn many shawls draped over our shoulders, our backs, our breasts - shawls of many colors from the river to carry water, from the trees to carry wood, shawls veiled us as we walked behind a body, shawls sheltered our growing bellies, shawls covered our colored bruises, shawls waving and flapping as we danced and sang like birds, shawls draped heavy while we marched like cold dogs, shawls slung tight our babies to us, shawls wrapped gently about a fevered friend. Our stories were our first prayers. We are all the stories we have ever heard, all the stories we ever thought, all the stories yet to be created.
All stories come from our sense of separateness.
All stories try to express our hearts longing to BE ONE again. It is good to explore our separateness. It is good to honor our separateness. For the strong circle is formed by separate parts, being separate and one simultaneously. The shawl is our protection while we walk through Great Mystery.