I once sought out my spirit guides and asked some of them for names. Thing is, names are only really important to us, not to them. They go by energy signatures, which don’t need to be named.

I felt a female energy, saw her as young and beautiful. Native. I asked her name, and she replied: “Little Sister.”

I thought that was crazy. How could my guide, who was helping me, refer to herself as Little Sister? Shouldn’t she be the older and wiser one in this deal?

There was much thought involved, because I’m fabulous that way, and I recalled the winter when I was ten years old. My mother had given birth to a girl with spina bifida. In those days, not a lot was done to prolong the lives of such children, and Lydia Mae died three days later. I never saw her. There was much that mere children were not privy to in those days, and perhaps it was better that way.

The same artist friend who created my totem vision woodcut had also made me a magnificent medicine bag from moosehide that another friend had tanned on The Rock. Where all the mooses live. Except this one. Anymore. On the back, she did a spirit drawing representing myself and Little Sister.

The bag is well worn now, and the spirit drawing has worn off.

I believe that I met Little Sister in the flesh this past summer.

I would like her to have my medicine bag when I die.