Back in January, I was gifted a beautiful flute—dark-stained wood that almost looks black. At the top sits a crow totem, peering down the center at the turquoise stones and engraved designs that resemble eyes staring back. I might be biased, but it is the most beautiful flute I have ever seen.
The moment of receiving it was overwhelming. The emotions were fierce, and tears streamed down my face. It wasn’t just about the flute itself—I didn’t even know the man who was gifting it to me. I was confused, uncertain about what to do. Yet, as I sat in tears, he explained that he had been guided to give it to me, even before we had met. He told me the flute had been passed to him by his first teacher, Suki, before she passed away.
He spoke of her strength, of how she had overcome so much—once a woman over 300 pounds, she took her life back, shedding the weight she carried. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her wrinkles like battle scars, making her look like a tiger. As he spoke, he had no idea that I, sitting before him, carried the same story—the same skin.
A Path Unfolding
I do not believe in coincidence; everything happens for a reason. As I listened, I felt something shifting. I opened up to him about my experiences in the months prior—how someone had told me to explore the path of the Heyoka. When I researched it, I found something so powerful that I dared not claim it without proper recognition. I knew better.
But what I didn’t realize at the time was that when I chose to walk the Red Road, I had already begun my own vision quest. I started working closely with my intuition, learning to trust myself and my body’s messages. In 2024, I dismantled my entire life—career, friendships, relationships, even parts of myself that no longer served me. From the outside, it may have seemed chaotic, but for me, it was a sacred process. I prioritized what made me feel good, set firm boundaries, and removed anything that disturbed my energy.
My life transformed. The more I let go, the lighter I felt. I began noticing synchronicities—so many that I jokingly adopted the motto: “I cannot make this shit up.” These weren’t random events; they were signs. The more I followed them, the clearer everything became. People I met, places I visited—it all made sense. My vision changed. The world became brighter. I was seeing through the eyes of my inner child again—seeing the world for what it truly is: beauty.
Beyond the Veil
Then October arrived, and my world flipped.
I started experiencing profound shifts—panic attacks, strange visions, feelings that overwhelmed me. Desperate for answers, I went to my doctor, only to be told, “It sounds like a bad trip. Time is all that’s needed, hopefully.” That wasn’t what I expected to hear, but it confirmed what I already suspected—this wasn’t medical. It was something else.
So, I leaned in. I deleted social media to remove outside influences. Everything I was experiencing was internal. Thoughts, feelings, visions—and then, I started seeing things. It got so intense that I even researched schizophrenia, trying to make sense of it all. Every day felt like waking up to a different reality.
One day, I walked into town and saw people with demon faces. Not everyone—just a handful. I forced myself to stay composed, moving through my day as if everything were normal. That was the only time it happened, but I knew—I was being shown something. I was learning discernment. I was being shown truths beyond the human eye.
The Call of the Thunderbird
During this time, crows followed me everywhere. I had always associated them with darkness, but now, I was falling in love with them. I even started wearing a raven necklace I had been gifted the previous Christmas—something I had never worn before.
When I received the flute, everything clicked. I realized that Thunderbirds had been guiding me my entire life. My mother played a role in this, even from the spirit realm. As a child, she had given me a beaded medallion of a Thunderbird. Her cars? Firebirds and Thunderbirds. The signs had always been there—I just hadn’t seen them.
A few years ago, when I worked at our tribal culture center, I received a call from the governing offices. They warned me about a man who had been escorted off the premises, speaking “crazy talk,” possibly heading my way. Security was on standby.
That man did show up.
He told me he had been receiving messages and needed to deliver them. His energy was intense, intimidating at first, but I listened. He showed me photos—his sweat lodge with a hawk perched beside it, images of White Buffalo Calf Woman, and then, a photo of a Thunderbird. He told me: “They are back, and we need to listen.”
Before he left, he handed me the photo of the Thunderbird. I held onto it, not realizing that years later, it would all make sense.
Playing With Thunder
After receiving the flute, I took it to my mother’s resting place on our mountain, where our ancestors lay. I played—not well, but with my whole heart. And as I played, thunder rumbled in the skies.
The sky was clear, midday, with no clouds. Yet, the thunder played with me.
That moment was undeniable. It cemented my journey, my identity, my purpose.
In the past, it was taboo to share experiences like this. But times have changed. We no longer have enough people believing, enough people carrying these teachings into ceremony. We need to start sharing, openly and without fear. Our ancestors need us to listen, and they need us to speak up.
We are all in this together. I am not alone.
And neither are you.
The photo the man said was a thunderbird.
