again possible. Which sounds to me very much the goal of the Ghost Dance. I’ve often wondered where I fit in our family lineage of leaders and activists. Me, the introvert hermit who lives in her imagination. Suddenly it’s plain: I come from generations of storytellers. We are the chroniclers and interpreters, the speakers and translators, the ones who respect the power of language. I belong with them. I have my own words to craft and offer up to the present moment. Words can undo us or restore us to wholeness. I pray that mine will be medicine.
