My dear friend Martha, a former mentor and medicine teacher of mine from the Midwest, dropped deep into a coma while I was in Alaska last week.  Unable to be at her side, I visited her in meditation, passing into the ethers and talking with her as she lie unconscious.  Later, I also called and talked to friends, family, and the nurses at the hospital by phone to get frequent updates on Martha's condition.

In spite of the geographic distance, I felt close to Martha.  While friends and family had given me messages of hope about her improvement, I woke one morning knowing it was time for Martha to leave.  I chose to honor her and made another visit in meditation, but this time, Martha had already begun the journey.  In my vision, I washed her body and anointed it with herbs and oils, wrapped the core of her torso in soft cloth.  I dressed her in an honor dress of whitened deerskin, its cape painted with plant dyes depicting the scenes of her life.  I put her medicine pouch inside her dress, and I combed her hair.  Across the miles, I paid my respects to Martha.

The passing of an elder, a teacher, and a wonderful friend tells me that I have come to a gate in my own life and Martha has no need to accompany me further.  I am on a new leg of my own journey, and there will be other guides and companions for this new adventure.  It is always that way when someone leaves to travel beyond the ridge.  It is often the first signal of a great change to come.

A hot wind blew today, and tonight, we are expecting snow.