Excerpt from the Prologue of A Secret Gathering:
“There is no quick way to tell you the story,” I said, placing the crow headdress between us on the table. “Just know I’m skipping over many things because the journey took over ten years.” She walked back from the kitchen handing me a cup of tea in Standing Owl’s mug decorated with a family of owls sitting on a branch. I really didn’t want to tell anyone what happened to me. Once you put a story like this out into the world, there is no way to take it back. No one is going to look at you the same way again. Your old life is gone. I was afraid I might find people camping out on my lawn thinking I was some sort of shaman, or my family and friends would think I had gone plain mad if they hadn’t already. There is no doubt I was afraid of the consequences. During my talks with Standing Owl about my experiences, it became obvious to both of us that I would have to find a way to share this story but that was the core of the problem. How do you tell a story about learning an unwritten language that words fail to express? I picked up the owl mug, took a sip of tea, and began…
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