Woman Between the Worlds by Apela Colorado

Author:Apela Colorado [Colorado, Apela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2021-07-19T22:00:00+00:00

During those early years on Maui, the story of the ravens and the gold persisted in my thoughts. There was something more to it, something I couldn’t put my finger on. From time to time, when I met someone whom I thought might shed light on the experience, I’d mention what had happened that overcast fall day when I’d walked Lemon Creek. One day, I told the story to my Athabascan friends Adelheid and Kay who listened attentively.

This time I ended the story with a question, “Did I do the right thing, leaving the gold there, or should I have tried to take it?”

They looked at me and nodded their heads sympathetically, as if to say, “That’s a Raven, all right.” Being Indian, they might have left it right there, but Kay is an Elder and a Healer. She had a view into it.

Looking over her cup of coffee, she asked softly, “What happened next?”

“I… I never thought of that,” I stammered.

The entire next year—this is a Raven story after all—I thought about her question a lot. Nothing came. I saw no connections, until one dawn as I lay in bed and listened to the song of tropical birds. The ones with the biggest eyes began, and with each added increment of light, smaller-eyed birds joined in, one species at a time. This went on until it was completely light, and the song reached crescendo. Half-awake, I found myself remembering a wealthy socialite party I had attended in New York City soon after I left Alaska.

I was there because a philanthropist, one of our university board members, wanted me to meet others who might support my work with Indigenous Wisdom. I’m a bit introverted, don’t drink, and generally don’t do well in that kind of social setting, so I was nervous. The first thing I noticed was the clothing. Although this was an informal party in the city’s Meatpacking District, the way people dressed was an art in itself. Designer ensembles tastefully and seamlessly merged with personality and status. I looked at my own clothing. Wisely, I’d chosen an Indian tunic, full-length skirt, and high-top moccasins. I was in a category of my own, hopefully adding some welcomed “non-ensemble” diversity.

The room was filled with the quiet clink of glasses. Intelligent and stimulating conversation on topics and tangents I’d never considered swirled around me. I was supposed to be putting my best foot forward and promoting interest in my work; instead, I made for the bathroom to catch my breath and bearings. The heavy door shut with a soft thud behind me. The room was as big as my bedroom. I went to the sink and splashed cold water on my face; the towel was so thick it felt like a pillow to my face. I wanted to rest there until the party was over. Looking at myself in the mirror, I took a breath and reminded myself of all the good that could come from this gathering. I opened the door and plunged back into the crowd.

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