I spent last night in this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yep. For real.

14 hours in this thing.

I’ve got to say … I never imagined I’d be writing, let alone, having actually experienced an entire night in a … tipi.

And one that my grandfather didn’t make. Yeah, Pop was totally into the Native American thing when we were little. He’d build us tipis we slept in at night, bow and arrows, the whole nine yards … till Maman discovered the bows and arrows were actually real.

I guess she was worried we’d try and kill each other. Literally. Or at least semi hazardously harm one another.

That was the end of that.

This, however, was just a new beginning for me last night. Of what I’m not sure.

As I’ve said before, I am drawn to anything that connects me to my higher self and that of The Universe at large. I don’t judge what form that comes in.

When the invite was extended to attend this rare Indian Ceremony, I jumped at the chance. Why not, right?

The hardest part was staying awake for 14 hours. Surprisingly, it went by fast.

Out of my initial impressions, the thing that I am most caught by?

The outhouse.

Seriously.

I am talking the nicest, most gorgeous outhouse you’ve ever seen and stepped foot inside.

You know how they always have that nasty smell? Not this one. Cedar and pine. Lanterns lit inside. Even had a nice mirror.

Take me to the Indians and I’m still concerned how my hair looks and if my lipstick is still on {Maman, for one, would be proud}.

I’m shameless.