Burdens of Impossible Weight and Immense Promise
“The heavier the burdens placed on you by Allah, the more strength He will give you to carry them.”
Someone I cared about who was part of my spiritual tradition, someone who had been initiated into this ancient and complex, simple and demanding lineage of people entrusted with the unique gift of working with weather: she sent an email yesterday.
When faced with a lifetime of commitment to something mysterious, she decided the path that chose her and initiated her…is not for her.
It was a conversation-starter. My husband and I have been discussing this challenging and rewarding path of weather work in our tradition.
This morning, the snow is falling, a thick blanket of appropriate and alive winter weather, feeding this land, nourishing it into becoming the abundant, lush place it is. I feel the seeds of creative potential sleeping in the ground, dreaming of spring.
The snow brings a great sense of satisfaction that all is right with the world, even amidst all of the unpredictable changes that we’ve been experiencing.
It’s a rare occurrence, fortunately. But, people leaving our path can feel like a shake-up, like a rip in the tapestry of our work. It might make a person say, what am I doing all this for, anyway? The mind becomes confused. What is a good human path, anyway?
It strikes me that this path — and paths like these — are not for everyone. And that’s okay. People leaving a path that is this demanding have their reasons.
This path — and paths like these— are not for everyone. And that’s okay.
This morning, Adam and I were reminiscing about our first journey to Mexico in April 2003. He asked me, “Did you know what you were getting into?”
Back then, I had been an invalid, very sick for many years, but over the past few years, I had found a place walking the world once again, as I started a business and began standing for what I believed in out in public. I was feeling somewhat better, but I was still so sick and very sensitive to many things.
I was absolutely petrified of going to Mexico, a country where I’d never been before. We were going to a remote and impoverished area. Nothing was certain about this trip. I was on a special diet, difficult to adhere to. I was allergic to many things in the world. I got sick at the drop of a hat. I was afraid of illness, ending up in a foreign hospital, being too poor to pay. I realized that this was my moment of truth: if I went, I could die. Or I could uncover something important about my real reason for living.
Similarly, as I returned to Mexico this October 2021, so many years —almost two decades — later, I was having problems with my joints, my lower extremities, my knees especially. My knees and ankles were swollen, discolored, inflamed. Walking was painful. Walking uphill was not an option. I owed one more pilgrimage to my spirit-path of becoming a healer. Could I climb that mountain? Impossible.
I listened to the fire, and Grandfather Fire told me, “Take it slow.” I managed to kneel for the first time in months to get into my tent. I put one swollen foot in front of the other. I climbed the mountain. I crossed the impossible chasm. I made my offerings, and it felt like I was offering myself, my life, my everything.
After I returned, I felt solid in my path; at least, as solid as I can feel. I realize now I will have many experiences like this on the road. I will face the next one today, or tomorrow. The adventure of life is endless. The dangers abound. Weighing the dangers on the road, confronting the serpents. I hope I will always be able to shoulder my burden and look up with my eyes as clear as possible. I hope I will always be able to say, “Ah, here you are, Impossible Unknown. I recognize your unrecognizable face. I am up for your challenge.”
Facing the Dragon: This was my moment of truth: if I went, I could die. Or I could uncover something important about my real reason for living.
Initiated as a tradition-holder in the Nahua/Mexican weather worker lineage in May 2003 by don Lucio Campos de Elizalde of Nepopualco, Morelos, Mexico, Erin Everett is a weather worker, life counselor, ceremonial leader, and tepahtiani traditional healer. She is known in Nahuatl as a quiatlzques and in Spanish as a tiempera. As are many in this tradition, she was struck by lightning in her youth, which is a known calling to this path. A native of western North Carolina, she and her colleagues work with weather in the Asheville, NC geographical region. More information about Erin, her husband, Adam, and their work, tradition, and teachers can be found at seedsoftradition.org.
