Not far from the white topped peaks of the Continental Divide we walked round the bend of a wide grassy trail and stepped into the bright summer light of a Rocky Mountain meadow. My breath caught. The beautiful sight ahead took me to another time 150 years or more ago: grass as high as your hip, four tipis with strips of colored fabric fluttering from pole tops, a large council tipi in the north corner of the meadow, a small moon lodge tipi at the south end, and a big fire pit in the meadow's center. So began two extraordinary wondrous weeks 10 yrs. ago that would change my life forever.  Twenty-four women gathered together on a 8,000 acre Montana horse ranch surrounded by mountain wilderness on  to study and experience Native American spirituality and women's ritual with Brooke Medicine Eagle, a Native American Earth Wisdom teacher, from the Crow and Lakota tribes.

Our experiences in the mountains led by Brooke transformed our ordinary female bodies into "expressions of spiritual energy and power, making visible our instinctual natural wildness."(1) We drummed, sang and danced in the council tipi, in the meadow and under the stars. Our drum beats, voices and bodies coming alive and moving as one. One dark evening with only the light of the fire, we drummed up that bright luminous white ball in the night sky, sending our howls, warrior cries and feverish beats to Grandmother Moon as she silently rose above the ridge.

The days could get really hot. One of my special delights was to let my bare body feel the wind and wade knee deep into the chill rushing waters of the mountain creek. Summoning courage and with much yelping I would dunk beneath the bubbling surface letting the coldness flow over me. Aaahh. A creekside rock was my drying perch, the breeze and the sun doing its natural work.  The cry of a soaring redtail hawk was an affirmation from Great Spirit.

Brooke led us to a gully one afternoon where a small dome shaped hut sat by a beaver pool.   Its frame made with bowed saplings and  covered with layers of old blankets - inipi, a sweat lodge "used before any great undertaking for which we wish to make ourselves pure or for which we wish to gain strength" (The Sacred Pipe, Black Elk), in our case it was preparing for our solo time on the mountain. A big fire burned near the lodge baking the stones buried in its center - the fire representing the ever-lasting great power of Wakan Tanka, Great Spirit. Some  of us stripped down and crawled into the inipi, all shapes and sizes of women, to sweat and sing our prayers, to release our fears and minds tethered to habitual ways of thinking. It was warm already with with 12 of us squeezed into the small space, our backs touching the lodge wall, our bare arms touching each other. In the dim light I could still see the festive  tobacco ties (little pieces of colored cloth filled with a pinch of tobacco and a prayer all strung together)  we had made earlier hanging from the low ceiling. The floor of the sweat lodge was a thick matting of high grass foot-stamped down the old way. The red glowing rocks appeared at the opening and were slid in on a pitch fork, "Hau Kola!"  Hello Friend! The flaps closed, we were in pitch blackness, the womb of Mother Earth.

Water sizzled and steamed as Brooke splashed the red hot stones in the center pit. Bunches of fresh sage were strewn about lending their cleansing smell to the steamy air. I held a handful right over my nose breathing in its pungent smell. It also cooled the hot air just slightly allowing me to breathe fully. After a round of prayers Brooke called out, the flap was opened by someone outside. We could see the ritual of readying more rocks for us: the fire tenders poked through the blazing fire till they found a rock, lifted it out with a pitch fork, brushed the ashes off with a small willow switch dipped in water and  slid it into the center pit of the sweat lodge, "Hau Kola." The flap was closed and we were in total darkness again. Our hot bodies quickly became wet again with sweat running off us. The hotter it got the stronger our prayers & singing became, erupting into howlsand groans.

Another 2 rounds with more hot rocks. Each time the flap was lifted we got a weak draft of cooler air and a glimpse of daylight and we were grateful. Then steady heartbeat of the drums outside surrounded us as we were immersed us in the power of the inipi. After the 4th round of prayers the flap was lifted and we crawled out on hands and knees into  sunlight. Steam radiating from our  bodies, we dizzily stumbled into the shocking coldness of the beaver pool, yelping like wild women. Then lying belly down on the sweet thick grass, the great body of Mother Earth held us. As my heartbeat connected to her molten beating core, I dreamed of White Buffalo Woman and felt complete.

A two day vision quest soon followed. Brooke had prayed over each of us as we set out for our spot on the hillside, marking our wrists with a black line of paint to release us from the need to be doing something, taking care of something. Fasting and alone on the mountain with only water and our sleeping bags, we each sat in this wilderness with just the land before us, the bowl of blue sky above and critters moving in the brush. I sat through the waning day, the awesome Montana sunset, the long dark night with millions of brilliant stars, shooting stars, constellations and deer whoofing and barking in different directions. Were they calling to each other, warning others of this strange presence they might smell but not see or hear? Did they care? One loud snort seemed very close to me. I hardly breathed in my sleeping bag sending out a mental message," I'm harmless, I'm not even here....". We sat through another day and night with the Great Mystery of Life within and around us to guide us. I prayed hard under a great Ponderosa pine tree for a sense of direction, my new purpose in life and waited, waited for a sign, a clue, an animal, an insight, an awakening, something - hanblecheya, to cry for a Vision the Lakota say - a holy sacred rite.

I came down from the mountain with a "vision" as a "woman shining with LaDestina, possessed of a deep sense of [my] own destiny" (2) for the second half of my life. My vision slipped imperceptibly into consciousness as I sat gazing  on the land around me for those two days and nights: the changing shades of red, pink, yellow, gray against the bluest sky as the sun sets and rises, the quiet broken by a gentle wind in the pines, the call of a magpie, the alarmed snorting of a deer in the night sensing  . . . ME. From my vantage point on the hill I could see the two meadows separated by a patch of woods: one with tipis, one with tents. These two meadows became the focal points of my vision - Am I to be a bridge between two worlds, contemporary and ancient, bringing these nurturing earth experiences to hungry souls disconnected from the body and spirit of Mother Earth? YES. Coming down from the mountain with a vision you feel passionate about is the first step; making it real takes months, years.  The vision and experience I had in Montana on my first quest shapes my personal and professional life to this day.

One day we sat in a circle in the council tipi listening to Brooke speak of the ancient Native wisdom  on menses and menopause. She invited women entering menopause to be initiated into the Moonpause Lodge, a circle of menopausal women taking on their role of authority for the benefit of all Mother Earth's children. But first we had to learn the full cycle of woman teachings.

Starting with a girl's first menses in Native tradition, a woman's bleeding time was honored as inherently sacred, a spiritual calling her body made visible. "Ancient mythology/spirituality envisions the fragile, vulnerable and utterly perishable body as indistinct from soul." (3) During her moon time, so called because it occurred during the darkness of the new moon, she was relieved of her daily responsibilities by family and relatives to spend these 4-5 days resting, praying, being cared for in the moon lodge tipi with other women. It was her natural retreat time for bringing forth vision, insight, prophecy, not just for herself and her family but for her people. Her psychic sensitivity had a sacred and tribal purpose: to open her to contact with the Divine, Great Spirit - Wakan Tanka. She could not tune inward in the hustle and bustle of daily life - too many distractions (some parts of a woman¹s life haven't changed).  Her physical rawness and bleeding called her to be still, quiet, reflective so she could enter into a state of be-ing, giving the deep wisdom of Spirit time and space to bubble up. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of Women Who Run With the Wolves, considers "the loss of woman's natural perception arising from the wonders of her blood cycles one of the most striking examples of cultural predation on women's light" (4), that flow of her unfettered passionate essence, energy and creativity radiating into the world.

By the time most Native women entered menopause they were wise women deeply respected by the tribe. Now her menstrual blood, formerly meant to nourish and bring forth new life, was held in the body to nourish and bring forth the strength, courage and wisdom of a spiritual warrior. Now she was charged with the mission of being a keeper of the primary law given to the people by the Creator: to be in good relations with all things in the circle of life. Her focus of concern became wider, beyond her immediate family, beyond even her clan and village to the greater circle of life. She was to be an advocate, a model, a teacher for the growth of beauty, peace, aliveness, harmony, spirituality, sharing Mother Earth¹s bounty with all her children. Protecting the interconnectedness of all life was paramount.

To her this sacred work was entrusted: watching with vigilant, penetrating eyes to assure that her people were living in a good way. Were the chiefs leading the people thinking how today's decision would affect the tribe's offspring to the 7th generation or just for their own short-term benefit? Were the children taught to respect all life, to offer thanks to the Creator for the food, shelter, clothing received from the animals, the plants and trees?  Were the land and the animals used and treated with utmost respect and gratitude?  The authority to make a difference was a given, for when she spoke her voice coming from the depths of her spirit and her connection to the Creator had a quiet resolute power.  Chiefs were dependent on her nod of approval and could be called into accountability. She spoke and acted for the law of good relations - Mitakuye Oyasin, we are all related.

This was the commitment we were now contemplating. Were we ready to take on this authority and humbly dedicate ourselves, each woman according to her natural talents and inclinations, to the greater circle of life? A commitment not just to the 2-leggeds, but also to the 4-leggeds, the winged, the finned, the green standing ones, the waters and air itself?  Even if we didn¹t have years of respecting our moon time, even if our lives were a little messy, we were not to dismiss ourselves as unworthy. Whatever personal growth we needed to do was part of this dedication ceremony.  These teachings stirred an undeniable and mysterious excitement in me.  I was to become a woman of the Moonpause Lodge, an ancient lineage of Grand-Mothers, wise women in-training. This was one of the main reasons I had come - to make my passage into menopause  filled with honor, empowerment and purpose. The ceremony was all that and more.

Each initiate was led to the creek by younger women, spiritual mid-wives, for a ritual bath. I left my old clothes on the bank and stood quietly as they dipped their hands in the water wiping me with its coolness. The sun shone brightly, a light wind blew through the tall pine trees, bright white cumulous clouds drifted lazily by as they blessed and prayed over me. The soft murmuring of their voices filled my ears as I drank in the sight of the beauty around me. I felt the heavens and earth blessing me - "This is our daughter in whom we are well pleased." The women placed my Kente shawl weaved by the women of Ghana around me. We were led to a place of honor in the center of the circle where Brooke anointed our forehead, heart and belly with scented oils and red earth.  A warrior feather was raised over each new Moonpause woman as she spoke her dedication simply in her own words. Tobacco was sprinkled over us signifying our union with all life, corn meal  placed on our tongues so we would receive all  the forms of nourishment needed to do this sacred work. Moonpause women need the physical, emotional, spiritual and financial support to focus on their mission. The younger women listened as we shared wisdom gleaned from our own lives. They drummed and sang to us as we danced in a small circle. A feast followed served by our mid-wives.

To celebrate my passage into wise woman years with the bright sun and sky, the clouds, mountains, trees, animals and my sisters-in-spirit as witnesses was thrilling.  It has been my pleasure and honor to help keep this tradition alive by bringing these teachings and ceremony to other women as Brooke taught us. Slowly I also began to weave Native ritual and teachings into my work with clients and workshops. Someday I will lead wilderness retreats in the mountains so others have the opportunity to experience this joy.

My work as a psychotherapist is part of living my vision: to create an environment whether in private counseling, workshops or retreats where a person can evolve into fully who they are , to heal and bridge the broken connections of body-mind-heart-spirit within, between person and  Mother Earth, between men and women. Once again to experience our innate richness and aliveness as we walk through life, to realize we two-leggeds are part of the Earth¹s body and must live in harmony with her and ALL her children, the 4-leggeds, winged, finned, crawlers, standing ones as a true family.  ah-ho! Mitakuye Oyasin.

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FLORENCE  GAIA, RN, M.Ed., co-creator of EverGreen Wholistic Center in Topsfield, MA, is a  psychotherapist specializing in  spontaneous visual imagery, Transformational Breathwork & Gestalt therapy in her private practice & workshops. She uses these modalities to facilitate healing of the whole person, as guides to the inner dimensions of the spirit and as a catalyst for change.  Her focus is to empower each person to discover their own path of healing & personal growth. She has been in the healing profession for 25 yrs., led drumming & women's circles in Colorado & MA. She is enthusiastic about promoting personal growth and empowerment and healing of Mother Earth in all she does. To reach her, call (978)462-5879 or email: fgaia@shore.net for more information about her work.

1. Highwater, Jamake, Myth & Sexuality, New York: Penguin Group, 1990, pg. 203 - 207

2.  Estes, Ph.D., Clarissa Pinkola, Women  Who Run With the Wolves, New York: Ballantine, 1992, p.450.

3.  Highwater