Signposts from Tunkasila

Deja vu .
No road trip is without a little detour. Maybe a search for food and a chance to stretch those legs.
That road looks interesting. Oh hey, check that out.. let's go take a look.
Dirt tracks and the mystery of a butte across the way. An artistic photo opportunity, a place to Pray and make offerings. Or maybe the invitation from friends and family to stop in. Take a break and share some stories (the chance of a shower and laundry often does the trick).
The thing I have come to know is that Tunkasila will always let you know.
Sometimes the spirits have made things happen to keep me still. To wait without being aware of waiting (those lights stayed red for years). Other times every light you come to is green.
But the thing I like most are the Signposts from Tunkasila. There are no warnings. Just that moment of Deja vu. It's a moment of catching up with yourself and being shown you are exactly where you are supposed to be...... and then we are off. The road trip continues and no map is a guarantee. Just stay true to the direction in your soul. Steer with passion and compassion. be humble with the gas pedal (unless the real need for speed) and easy on the brakes.
When we are young it is often just us but as we grow, so does the number of passengers.. their life can so often be in your hands.
The road beneath can sometimes be all there is but look up from your feet and meet the eyes.. for the road is never just ours and belongs to all.
Personally I prefer to ride bareback with the Ancestors in the storms.. Thunderous hooves and Lightning Songs....

Clint Eastwood turned my coffee black

Just a random memory that popped into my head.
Finally I reached the age where my mother would let me stay up for a while after supper.This was the time of grown-ups and the door had been opened to me. At last. All my wondering would be answered and I took my spot sitting on the floor beside the little coffee table.
As the TV was switched on and a show was picked my mother went into the kitchen and came back with hot drinks. This was the opening ceremony to 'grown-up time' and I was included. I sipped on a cup of tea (which I never liked,weak and milky). I asked my mother what she was drinking and she offered me a taste... ah, the spell had been cast with the very moment my taste buds were hit with coffee.
I had always been drawn to the smell. There was a little village shop my mother would go to and I was then at the age of holding her hand and having no choice on the days events and journey. But that shop.. that little village haven was thick with the scent of fresh coffee.. I was hooked.
So.. that smell,the first taste.... yes I was a natural born coffee drinker... and proud of it.
Milk and two sugars was my way.. like I knew anything.
And then that fateful night came.
I was alone downstairs,my mother was sick in bed and I sought the comfort of the couch.I'm sure that couch could swallow people. Anyway I searched for a show and found a western.. one of those classic Clint Eastwood westerns.I was armed with the remote and a fresh cup of coffee.. milk with two sugars.. but not for much longer. The scene came when they were all sitting around the fire and eating beans (no doubt) off those metal plates and supping on some good old camp coffee. wait a minute, I don't see any milk.. nor sugar.. hmmmm.. let me try that.
I must admit to the initial shock and hurriedly added sugar.. but that was it. No looking back and the milk was "outa here".
I'm still an avid coffee drinker, less sugar and definitely no milk... that rich taste that's so earthy.
So,thank you Clint.. you turned my coffee black.