The Native Elephant
Originally posted on Sep 12, 2021 on medium.com/@shamandao
Credit: Caters
It’s been three weeks since I submitted a 21,141-word essay for Robert Bigelow’s Consciousness Contest. After three months of writing and a month of decompressing after moving across the world amidst a pandemic, it was time for fun.
The term fun is relative to each person so I went kayaking on Lady Bird Lake in Austin, TX for the first time. Then a week and a half later, I felt anger boil up inside of me. It wasn’t cute anger either, it was anger built up from three generations of pain, sorrow, suffering, and silence as I held my heart chakra while in meditation. Fun, right?
That anger turned into rage and within a span of three days, I called in all the spirits of my ancestors from Asia to the native tribes. I sat in stillness as they moved out my sister named Clarify and moved in my other sister named Clarity so I could see clearer.
Clarity nestled herself right beside me and we hung out until she pointed to the stars. Then to the sun. Then to the moon. Then she pointed to me.What seemed like milliseconds, I understood all of it. The six years of journeying around the sun. The surrender. The sacrifices. The lonely nights in foreign countries. The meditations. The callings. The healings. The darkness. The black magic. The light. The experimental research. The inductive approaches. The white magic. The joy. The pain. The sorrow. The contest. Her. Clarity.
Every step I took in foreign physical and hidden lands were tiny brush strokes on an empty canvas. A luminous painting I was co-creating with Spirit. A beautiful masterpiece done, but not yet done. Painted with languages of Spanish, Vietnamese, English, Italian, dreams, poetry, hope, laughter, and love.
One part of the painting showed an empty space surrounded by mystical colors of light. My eyes scanned the canvas to astral travel through different dimensions to hear the whisper of the truth.
From curanderas in Latin states to the voodoo masters in Africa, where are our healers? Truth whispered again as my eyes focused on the white spot of the map of my soul. To say the States is in turmoil is putting it lightly. We have been slowly dying as we suffocate our land’s rightful owners.
One of the most famous and inspirational stories of all time happens to be the story of the Elephant and the chain.
In The Elephant Rope, as a man was passing the elephants, he suddenly stopped, confused by the fact that these huge creatures were being held by only a small rope tied to their front leg. No chains, no cages. It was obvious that the elephants could, at any time, break away from their bonds but for some reason, they did not.
He saw a trainer nearby and asked why these animals just stood there and made no attempt to getaway. “Well,” the trainer said, “when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them, and, at that age, it’s enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free.”
The man was amazed. These animals could at any time break free from their bonds but because they believed they couldn’t, they were stuck right where they were.
The native tribes are our native elephants.
Our native tribes have forgotten how powerful they are to break the tiny chain that has encased them for three generations. Conditioned to believe how unimportant they are. I believe the tribe’s connection to the land is our saving grace. If they would have us. If they would forgive us. If they would forgive themselves for forgetting.
In any healing, we must go back to the root cause of suffering to detach the meaning given to any situation. One must neutralize the meaning the first time an emotion was felt to pull forward the person to their present state. This is what I do with clients around the world, from diving into their subconscious minds to parallel and past lives. Once the integration of soul fragments has been completed, they’re able to move forward to not only heal themselves but heal others.
We suffer as a nation because people have forgotten that in a birth, there is also death. In the birth of “The United States of America,” entire tribes and cultures died as the result.
We are killing those who can lead us to salvation.
I just finished wrapping up our first podcast for my latest project, The Native Warrior, with Elder Mary in Juneau, Alaska from the Tlingit and Inuit Eskimo Tribe. If you know me personally, even if you don’t, know that once I set my sights on a goal, I will go through the highest of heavens to the deepest parts of hell to accomplish said goal.
All emotions are good from anger, rage, love, sadness, joy, contentment, guilt, and shame. If directed in a proficient and efficient manner, these same emotions can move mountains.
That’s where I’ve been, in the darkest parts of this Earth plane so that I could come back and begin the process of raising up voices that have been lost in the last 3 generations. I have spent lifetimes sharpening my karma to incarnate into this life. So that I can come back to help break the intergenerational chain of trauma and behaviorisms of my fellow native elephants.
After 6 long years of circling the sun for remedies to heal, I am home.