In the process of my life up to the age of fifteen, I had come to discover that there has been great significance in the simplest of things. Like the peace I felt gazing into the reflection of light in the eyes of another, the softness of the fur that grew on the body of my horse, the perfection of nature and the defected character of man at this present stage of evolution. At fifteen years of age, I found myself relatively segregated from the lives of my fellow peers, as the thoughts that ran rampant through my head were on a different plane of existence than the thoughts that ran through other heads. I was on a search for the ultimate truth, a truth that did not exist in the textbooks we studied in the educational institutions of modern day society.  From a relatively young age I sought enlightenment, a burning quest for spiritual illumination.
In order to escape the chaos of thus said society, I would ride my horse Jodi, deep into the forested mountains that surrounded my home.  We always travelled alone yet I felt completely safe and reasonably at home within the forest, even though we had come across the local species of black bear on several occasions.   I felt that we were exempt from the predator prey dilemma, for we had purpose being there, enclosed within the spruce and pine fortress.  I was seeking; I was looking for a way out of my mildly despised culture. I would travel alone everyday, deep into the forest and I would hope upon all hope to come across an Indian village... people who had turned away from the insanity of modern civilization and had found life more peaceful back in the depths of the forest. I would follow them. I would be swallowed up by their teachings and never look back. A childish dream... there seems to be only a selected few who have ventured on this path and I have yet to meet a single one. 
As my horse plodded along unencumbered by my weight, I would listen to the language of the birds, the air rushing through the leaves of the bushes we meandered through, and the rhythmic beat of her hooves on the soft earthen path.  I would lay the leather reins upon her neck and allow her to follow our well trodden trail; she brought us both to a blissful state of interaction as we melted into the forest she and I, two beings moving in unison surrounded entirely by living breathing matter.   The smells of the trees and mosses riding on the mellow currents of unpolluted air, and the peace and purity of the moment always led me into a state of total relaxation.  The pressures of the day were often released through the outpouring of tears as the memories of the mass insanity I endured that day as I roamed the halls of the school evaporated off my cheeks. I would pray to whatever spirit was the real God, for all the earth to experience the enormous blessing of peace that I had found in the quiet presence of the forest.  To the forest I brought forth the pain which resided in the hearts of man, and the majesty of the place would help me to dispel the hurting and replace the dark image of mankind with love and hope. 
We rode this trail almost daily, Jodi and I, a meditative journey into relaxation and harmony, healing and growth.
However one day was different, and the thing I sought after, the finding of real people, became closer to a reality than ever I had found. My hips as always were swaying in time with the movement of my horse, and the thudding of her hooves had become music in my ears. Like a heartbeat. Thud thud thud thud... I could hear her gentle breathing and matched mine to hers, finding it a strange pattern. The colors of the forest were vivid and the peace I experienced was flowing through me in waves. Our shared breath... and my dream came to mind, my dream of coming upon an Indian village. I was deep in this dream of redemption when I heard the voice for the first time. It was coming from within the forest seemingly directionless.  It started out subtly; I could have easily passed it off as a low murmur in my ears.  But no, when I listened closely I could hear it was a voice.  To be more precise, it was a low consistent chanting.  The voice sounded like an old native woman chanting.
It was beautiful in its slow, mellow, healing tone. I searched everywhere for the owner of the voice, but no matter how far I went and wherever I turned the voice was still there as strong as ever.  I never found the owner of the beautiful haunting chants; even after following the mantra everyday for weeks.  Every time I entered the woods I would marvel at the healing energy of the disembodied voice.  It brought hope for me, like I was sharing my personal moments with an old friend, and that friend was lifting me up.  The wisdom emanating from the voice lifted my spirits high, allowing a knowing to grow in me that there was still magic on this planet, magic for those who seek, for those willing to believe.  I never found this woman among the dwelling of the trees, only her voice permeated the air around me, I could feel it connecting with my soul.  “How could this be real?”  I would wonder.  “What does this mean??” Over the years, this voice never left my heart; it was like it had filled me with hope, a substance that sat in my body, she had placed it right there within me. 

Hope.

This story continues on years later, at the age of twenty eight.  I had at this time produced two beautiful girls along with two disastrous relationships with the male gender.  Having lost myself in the building of my life in regard to work and home, I had one day been awakened to find myself holding a lumber crayon, watching the flow of boards coming at me, my God I was working at a sawmill! I was instantly revolted at the insanity I had found myself succumbed to while trying to incorporate myself within the changing society. It was at this time I knew I had to make some serious changes in my life, and the need for enlightenment grew strong within once again. It was time for some answers; I knew that through this small awakening something was trying to communicate with me on a spiritual level and I needed it to know that I was slowly catching on. 
In order to accomplish this quest for answers, I knew where to go, to the forest. I took my bike into the wooded trails a couple of kilometres from home.  I had ridden these trails plenty of times before... on horseback.  I came to a large clearing and rode in a circle, around and around clockwise.  I had watched a movie about a man with schizophrenia, A Beautiful Mind, and he rode his bike in a figure eight (the symbol for infinity). He would use this energy to contemplate whatever fascinating things went through his head. I rode in a circle, symbolising the circle of life. As far as I was concerned the circle goes on forever as well. Around and around I rode in this very large loop, in order it would take me a long time to get dizzy.  I thought of all that was bothering me and of all the troubles riding heavy on my shoulders.  I was unsure if I should be releasing this negativity into the universe, but I could not keep it contained any longer. I started to cry, and even wail.  A song came to mind, one that I was given when I purchased an elk hide drum while driving through Hope, British Columbia. 

 I am Me Yo Ha

I’m standing on higher ground
I am Me Yo Ha

I’m standing on higher ground

Oh Great Spirit, speak to me
Give me your light I pray

Make me strong and make me good

Give me your strength today

Ho

-Chee Chee-

Around and around I rode never-ending it seemed, riding more the feeling of inertia than an aluminium bike.   I wondered just when it was that I should stop this game, for my voice was hoarse from singing and crying and I was seeing things as double.  The hurt I was experiencing inside was riding the sound emitting from the vocal chords within my throat, and it felt so much better in its leaving than sitting in my chest. An eagle flew overhead and landed on one of the tallest trees on the edge of the clearing. 

“What do you want bird?  To laugh at me trying to die, here on my bike?”  I cried up to it, knowing it had come to gape at me, knowing I was a mess.

The eagle just watched as sweat ran down my skin, I was slightly out of breath and my pulse raced, I could feel my blood pumping in my ears.  The song I was singing was changing, it had become a chanting almost, the words taking on a form all of their own.  The pain inside still mixed with my voice, flooding the universe.  I knew I was transcending spirit, I could feel a lightness, a lifting.  My voice was no longer my own, it was something far older, far wiser, it was as if...

My spirit left my bike, my body, even the world.  I was surrounded by time; all time, past present future.   I was a young girl riding her horse in the woods listening to the disembodied voice emitting from Heaven, from the trees.  I was the woman of that day, seeking freedom and guidance, looking forward to big dreams and a way out of darkness; and finally I was the woman I am today, meeting these two lost souls in the land of eternity, reliving the story of a new day, a new time, a time of HOPE.  Putting into words the wonders and magic of a still mysterious universe, where magic rides the unbounded configure of time and space.

We three, all are me.  A companion is my past; a not so distant guide resides within my future, and the me of the now... well I am the fortunate one, I am the one who gets to experience life as it unfolds, meshed within the known past and the unknown future; now I can see that there really is not only me, in me lives three. All my life to that point I had sought someone to show me the way into freedom, only to come to realize that the way is within. It is all within, the answers, the way to salvation, it is all just a change of consciousness that lets one see the new day.

I had a watcher while I grew up as a young child; it talked to me and told me of things of the natural world.   It told me of many things. 
Eventually this voice went away, and then came back again when I was a teenager, showing me of the horrors of humanity, it brought to my mind documentary images of gruesome surgeries without anaesthesia, torture, burning living human bodies, it was awful and I could not stop the horror.  This voice I learned had roots in a disease referred to as a mental illness.  So I fell into the ideology that I had a diseased mind.  But being that I am an educated person, capable of self education and discovery, I have come to realize that the voice that has persisted in my life was not one of strangeness, illness.  Through the journey of self discovery and the discovery of the universe, I have come to accept that the voice that had joined me throughout my life was in fact me, looking fondly back on my own memories, and educating my past self with morals in which I found were fitting and proper and lacking in the human
environment.  So now when I hear the voice speak to me, teach me, I know that beyond a doubt I live beyond today. Does this voice bring me redemption? I would have to say no, but it is a companion, it is an entity of like mind, it is me.And there is no doubt that in my search for a spiritual guide, I have found one in myself