Ancestors Voice
Originally written 04.19.2024
In many ways, my Vision Quest experience began long before I drove the stake in the ground to set my intent to quest. I’m sure a lot of people can relate to that. In more ways, though, it feels like my Vision Quest started hundreds of years ago. Because of that, I feel it’s necessary to create some context.
From my dad’s side of the family I’m half CHamoru, the indigenous people of Guåhan (Guam). When I was in middle school, a man dressed in what we can call regalia began visiting me in my dreams and sharing with me practices and wisdom of the ancient CHamoru. For years I spoke about him with my family, and they insisted they were just dreams and didn’t mean anything. Being young and naive, I was very insistent that we were royalty because his apparel was highly decorative and people would come from all over the island to meet with him.
A few months into my vision quest year, I’m out in California visiting with my dad’s side of the family when my Aunt pulls me to the side. She let me know that for years she wanted to talk to me about something, and has felt so guilty for not sharing it with me sooner. What she shared was that our family line has a history of mystics from makåhna (shaman), sahurånu/a (medicine men/women), psychics, mediums, oracles, etc. That the man who was visiting me in my dream was, in fact, my great x4 grandfather who was a highly sought after makåhna. In this story, I will refer to him as Bisåbuello (great grandfather). Though, he’s never shared his name with me.
In the jungles of Guåhan live the Taotaomo’na. They’re depicted as demons who will give consequences to those who enter the jungle uninvited. Bisåbuello once taught me that the Ancient Ancestors were central to the ancient CHamoru’s spirituality. They’re who we prayed to, turned to, sought guidance from. In modern days, the ancient Ancestors are called aniti (singular) or mananiti (plural). What he shared was that aniti actually means spirit. As in the spirit of a tree, the spirit of the Sun, the spirit of the island. That the ancient Ancestors are actually the Taotaomo’na, and they fled to the jungle to protect it during Spanish colonization. This is why they will pinch people or ‘curse’ people with an illness if they enter without permission.
The Taotaomo’na didn't want the Spanish to learn the sacred knowledge of the jungle, or to disrespect the sacred space. They wanted the Spanish invaders to think the jungle was cursed, that they couldn’t harvest and feed themselves from her nourishment, and eventually leave the island for good. Instead, the Spanish taught the CHamoru farming and agriculture.
Because so much of the culture was outlawed, suppressed, and forgotten, those who survived didn’t pass along the knowledge of the ancient ones out of fear. The result was centuries of seeing our ancient Ancestors, the Taotaomo’na, as demons.
Bisåbuello was the first of the Ancestors to visit my circle. Here is a bit of what he shared with me:
Each indigenous group was given a sacred gift. The Native Americans were gifted Earth. The Africans were gifted Water. The Whites were gifted Fire. We (the islanders) were gifted Wind.
Each peoples were gifted the sacred knowledge and wisdom of their element, and could call upon it when necessary. With our gift of Wind, that’s how we went on to discover and sail. The Wind blew our sails. We were given the gift to call upon Wind when wayfaring to new islands, or when feeding our clans and villages with fish and crab. Wind allowed us to clothe ourselves, to decorate ourselves with shells, dried grasses, and coconut husks. Wind is our Sacred Gift. Wind is our Sacred Knowledge.
The wisdom and the medicine of Wind was lost by waves of intruders. It is why the Taotaomo’na fled to the jungle. Backs were turned to the Sacred Wind, how to call upon it, how to nurture it.
This is why we have led you with wings. To show you how Wing Medicine and Winged Spirits are your Taotaomo’na sharing Wind Wisdom. You have no sails like your Taotaomo’na. You have wings. The Wind is not just your grandfather (a reference to a vision turned poem in February 2024). It is all of your Ancestors sending whispers through the wind to your wings.
”I am but wings, and the Wind is my Ancestors.”
It is time to spread your wings and allow Wind to guide you.
I can’t share all of the Wind wisdom and medicine gifted to me during this quest. Out of all that Bisåbuello told me, I know I can share this:
All sound is Wind, and all sound heals.
He referenced the Nature sounds that are medicine to me. The symphony of toads, frogs, crickets and grasshoppers that lullaby me to sleep. The buzzing of bees, wasps, and hornets that come to bathe me in their sounds. The trilling of cicadas that moves like a wave through the woods.
What I didn’t share during the naming ceremony, I really wish I had. Afterward Bisåbuello kept emphasizing its importance, so I will touch on it here.
Words are Wind, and all Wind is healing. Conflict heals just as much as laughter. The concept you know as ‘growth cannot occur without friction.’ An argument or a scream heals and honors sacred rage. Dancing and singing moves Wind and Wind moves one to dance and sing.
Years ago Bisåbuello showed me something and from it I developed a mantra that brings me empowerment, courage, confidence, and reassurance. I speak it to myself, and to my sister, when we need the reminder: My Ancestors stayed silent so I could be here today. My Ancestors stayed silent so I can be loud.
When I first drove my stake to set the intent to quest, it was to gain clarity around my purpose in life. Do I feel more clear on that? Not really, but what I received was so much more than I could have ever imagined.
One of the major themes of the year leading up to this quest was healing my wounded masculine. How can I live out my purpose, take the necessary action, and claim responsibility for my part here on the mundane plane when Ancestors guide me with a wounded masculine?
I remembered that rest doesn’t have to be earned, it is a necessary part of nourishing oneself. That I don’t have to do it all on my own, support is everywhere. That I don’t have to tough it out, that it isn't a weakness to ask for help, or to blow an air horn when your body is sounding every warning siren.
Many people asked me how I knew that I needed to blow the air horn to call for help. I let them know I ran out of water and knew I was dehydrated, that my head hurt, I couldn’t move, and when I could open my eyes I began seeing rainbows around the vultures, trees, and myself. This is true. That was one of the main factors that drove me to blow the horn.
What I didn’t share, though, was how for the few hours leading up to that I was going in and out of consciousness, and kept feeling a hand from each of the Ancestors that had visited me touching my body; One on my forehead, one on my chest, one on my shoulder, one on my stomach. Crown, Heart, Support, Sacral. Think, Trust, Reassurance, Instinct. When I saw the rainbows around everything, the arm that was holding the air horn began twitching. I knew it was an Ancestor encouraging me to blow the horn. To get over my ego, to follow my instinct, to take action and responsibility over my wellbeing and call for help.
There was an intense internal battle when it came to blowing the horn. My ego wanted to prove I could stick it out despite having run out of water and no strength to lift myself up. Blowing the horn challenged the wounded masculine of my ego. I immediately burst into tears, in part for feeling like I’d somehow failed. Mostly, there was a sense of relief knowing support would eventually come and, thanks to Lisa Spider’s Door’s insight, it was hundreds of generations of wounded masculine crying because they, too, were being healed.
I blew the horn a second time out of fear I may not get help for a while, maybe nobody heard the first round. Then, I heard Snake Medicine announcing he was on his way, I cracked open my eyes and saw him racing up that hill. I saw the divine timing of it all. The absolute perfection and relief I wouldn’t need to wait for help, it was already there, and I exploded into a sobbing mess. It was validation that I acted with strength, not weakness. That while Snake Medicine healed me with words, water, and a butterscotch, my Ancestors were experiencing that healing right alongside me.
I am but wings, spread wide, and the Wind is my Ancestors guiding my direction. They stayed silent so I can be loud, even with an airhorn.
The night I stayed on Woodpecker Hill I looked up at the sky, staring at the waxing gibbous moon illuminating everything down below. I felt called to get up and dance, to move, to sing. What song would come to me other than ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ by King Harvest? I got up to sing and, when I did, the moon was divided in the middle with clear sky on the left side, and clouds on the right, with halos forming around it.
“MOONDOG!” I shouted, and the inspiration came to me. The song that would name our group The Moondog Questers:
Everybody here is out of sight
Sitting circle deep within the pines
Some in a field, one on a hill
Everybody’s questing with a Moondog
Questing with a Moondog
Everybody’s out here seeking visions
It’s such a fine and natural sight
To be questing underneath a Moondog
Questing with a Moondog
Everybody’s out here seeking visions
It’s such a warm and natural sight
To be questing underneath a Moondog
