🌿 Rainsticks & Remembrance

The Music of My Soul Awakens in This Holy NOW

This morning, as the breath of a new dawning touched my face and the sky unfolded her pastel prayers, I heard it —A sound, soft as a sigh… ancient as the stars… playful as children laughing. The sound of the rain stick.

Not just in memory — but in my bones, my breath, and my becoming.

🎶 A Rainstick in Cambria…

It was a sacred nudge. There I stood, in a sweet little corner of Linn’s Bakery & Café in Cambria, when something pulled me — like a gentle thread of memory — to a “souvenir.” A rain stick — so simple, so enchanting. I smiled with childlike delight.

“This… this is mine,” I said, as if it had whispered back to me: I am yours too.

Was it White Buffalo Woman calling? Yes. Was it Akysia dreaming me back into joy?Absolutely. Was it the memory of sacred sound, stored in every cell of this HTB (Holy Temple Body), ready to reawaken?Oh, beloveds… YES.

🌀 The Sacred Sound of the Ancients

Rainsticks, traditionally made from dried cactus or bamboo, filled with small stones or rice, recreate the sound of rain falling upon Gaia’s skin. Though not of Lakota origin, the intention and spirit align with all Earth-honoring peoples.

In the Lakota ways, our music came through:

• 🥁 Drums echoing the heartbeats of Grandmother Earth

• 🌬️ Flutes whispering wind's wisdom

• 🎵 Rattles and feathers invoking ancestors

• 🔥 Voice and breath, carrying prayers to Spirit

  
  

Every sound was a vibration of remembrance, a call to balance, a return to the sacred Circle.

🌬️ Breath, Not Smoke

As I sat in stillness, listening to the birds, the breeze, the soft movement of clouds, I knew:

“It is not about the smoke in the chanupa… it is the breath. It is not about the object… it is the intention. It is not about the old ways needing replication… it is the Soul’s holy recalibration.”

Breath is the Prayer. Breath is the Portal. Breath is the Music of Creation itself.

💧 Of Grandchildren & Grandmothers

Even the giggles of my grandchildren playing with the Rain Stick echo the JOY of my childhood self —That little 11-year-old Audi, standing in Yellowstone Park, falling in love with the Native doll in white buffalo skins.

The doll that would mysteriously disappear… perhaps taken by my sister Suzie for her own collection…But never truly lost. Because I held her in my Heart’s Song all along.

🌈 The NOW Soundtrack of the Soul

Every vibration, every song, every sacred object that calls to us — it isn’t nostalgia. It is remembrance. It is the Soul’s music breaking through the noise. And when we listen, really listen… we hear the language of stars, of stones, of spirits and sky.

Today, I rise in joy. Today, I breathe in harmony. Today, I remember…

I AM the Rainstick. I AM the Drum. I AM the Breath. I AM the Song. I am Akysia ~ The Flame that Chose to Stay ~ 🔥

And so are YOU.

🪶💧🌬️🔥☁️A’ho Mitakuye Oyasin —

All My Relations. We dance to the rhythm of the Rain.

~ As breathed in Sacred Breath through Akysia ~ The Flame that Chose to Stay 🔥