Praise for Lynn V. Andrews "Lynn Andrews continues to write of her apprenticeship to the Native American shaman Agnes Whistling Elk in this companion to her earlier Medicine Woman. The most remarkable element of this book is its ability to communicate a sense of both the physical and spiritual lessons that Andrews has learned during her stays with the Cree Indians. "Her previous book detailed her initiation into the teachings of the Sisterhood of the Shields, a secret society traditionally the sole province of Native American women, and in this account she continues her education, revealing in the process why she felt compelled to return to Whistling Elk for further study. "Both books are notable not only for the glimpse they provide of an unfamiliar culture, but also for Andrews''s quietly powerful style and the humility with which she opens herself to new and often seemingly alien experiences." -- Booklist (American Library Association) "We are lucky that the likes of Agnes Whistling Elk still exist, and that one such as Lynn Andrews has had the opportunity to experience the ways of a medicine woman and has lived to write about it. Andrews''s books are a glimpse into a world of the miraculous and the eternal, and intimate a true understanding of the extraordinary laws of nature." -- Yoga Journal "A beautiful study of an unfamiliar culture .

 . . excellent reading." -- The McCormick Messenger , McCormick, SC BOOKS BY LYNN V. ANDREWS Medicine Woman Spirit Woman Jaguar Woman The Woman of Wyrrd Dark Sister Love and Power Tree of Dreams The Power Deck Teachings Around the Sacred Wheel Writing Spirit This book is dedicated to my mother Rosalyn and my daughter Vanessa whose love and understanding have made my journey possible. With special appreciation to Twila Nitsch Yehwehnode of the Seneca Nation and Paula Gunn Allen for being the medicine women that they are. With great thanks to John V. Loudon, my editor, whose thoughtfulness and dedication have helped me tremendously.

THE MOON IN YOUR HANDS If you take the moon in your hands and turn it round (heavy, slightly tarnished platter) you''re there; if you pull dry sea-weed from the sand and turn it round and wonder at the underside''s bright amber, your eyes look out as they did here, (you don''t remember) when my soul turned round, perceiving the other-side of everything, mullein-leaf, dogwood leaf, moth-wing and dandelion-seed under the ground. --H.D. [HILDA DOOLITTLE], from The Selected Poems of H. D. Preface This is a true story. Some of the names and places in this book have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. I am a woman.

The last several years of my life have been spent on a spiritual quest. My path led me first to many male teachers. Each of them, in their own way, gave me startling insights into my own nature. Still, something was lacking. I knew I wanted to learn from a woman--for me, that was the only way. I was lucky. After a series of extraordinary events, Agnes Whistling Elk, a Native American Medicine Woman living in Manitoba, Canada, became my teacher. When I first met Agnes, I asked her if she thought it was strange for someone from Beverly Hills to be sitting in her quiet cabin in Manitoba asking for help.

"There are always helpers and signs to point the way for anyone who is willing to follow them," she said. "Unknowingly, for the first time in your life, you have followed your true path. No, it is not surprising that you are here. Many omens have spoken of your coming, and I would be surprised if it were any other way. You know that enlightenment is arrived at in a different way for a woman than for a man." I asked Agnes if she taught men the same as woman. She laughed and said I should discover that answer for myself. "Teach the next ten men you meet how to have a baby.

" Spirit Woman (previously published as Flight of the Seventh Moon ) describes how Agnes initiated me into my womanliness and selfhood. Through a series of visions and ceremonies, she took me around a circle of learning, and gave me a working mandala, a shield that I can carry in my everyday life. Within the experiences of my rite of passage is the ancient wisdom of woman. My story is like the story of all women involved in search. Our situations are different because we all are unique, but our source of understanding is the same. Agnes has never told me what I must learn. She has simply put me into situations where I must grow and change to survive. Medicine Woman tells of how Agnes guided me through the four aspects of my beginning work.

Much of this involved making me physically strong, because she feels that there must be a balance between spiritual learning and physical endurance. Agnes also placed me in situations where I learned to balance the male and female elements within me. Much of that training had to do with the search for the sacred marriage basket. Finally, she taught me about making an act of power or an act of beauty in the world. For me that was writing a book. I learned that the reason for an act of beauty is to create a mirror for yourself so that you can begin to know intimately who you are. Agnes also made it very clear to me through paranormal events, my travels to Canada, and the work in dreaming that it is very important for us to be lifted out of our mechanical existence so that real change--perhaps even transformation--has a chance to occur. Our structures and beliefs must be suspended so that something new can be heard.

I once asked Agnes what she thought about the biblical expression, "many are called but few are chosen." She laughed and said that we are all called and we all are chosen if we simply have the courage to step into the unknown. I have written so that you may also share in the ancient traditions as memorized by Agnes Whistling Elk and the Sisterhood of the Shields. The Sisterhood of the Shields is a secret society based in the ancient traditions of woman. Although its membership has long been limited to Native Americans, the energy changes on our planet have made it necessary to initiate women of other races. We share our knowledge collectively, between tribes and nations, in an attempt to bring balance, wisdom, and a more complete view of truth to the land.   Protector-of-Children Shield: South Sometimes I go about pitying myself, and all the time I am being carried on great winds across the sky. --OJIBWAY, adapted by Robert Bly from the translation of Frances Densmore I stood at the entrance to the Beverly Hills Hotel.

The warm wind from the south rippled like clean silk on my skin. The air smelled of honeysuckle and I took a deep breath, trying to relax. I was nervously waiting for Hyemeyohsts Storm, the author of Seven Arrows and medicine man from Montana, and two film producers from New York who wanted to make a film based on my book, Medicine Woman. The thought of seeing Hyemeyohsts again relieved some of my anxiety. I glanced up at the ominous black clouds overhead and wondered what could be keeping him so long. As I waited for the valet to take my car, I gazed at the hotel''s sixteen-acre parkland. The pool, cabanas, and fabulous guests--kings and queens, movie stars, business executives--made the hotel very special, and ordinarily I would have been happy to be here. But today was different.

I was on my way to Canada to stay with Agnes Whistling Elk, the Cree Indian woman who had become my teacher. I had rented my home a few days early, and planned to stay at the hotel in the interim. As the valet took my car and bags, I was distracted by the arrival of a flesh pink Cadillac Seville, from which a gorgeous girl emerged. All eyes were riveted on her, and no wonder--her outfit was flesh pink, and so was her tea-cup poodle. That''s Hollywood, I thought ruefully. A limousine with license plates that read "FATHER" had also pulled up to the hotel, but with much less fanfare. As I watched from behind a tall pillar covered with ivy and flowers, all the doors to the limousine suddenly burst open at once, as if they had a mind of their own. No one got out for a moment, and then there was a flurry of activity as uniformed attendants scrambled to help an elderly gentleman out of the back seat and into a waiting electric wheel chair.

I didn''t recognize him, but he seemed somehow familiar. He had a distinctive way of lifting his gnarled hand and impatiently directing everyone. He was almost growling at his embarrassed young chauffeur, who tripped and nearly fell over the wheelchair as he lifted it up over the curb. As the distinguished gray-haired gentleman rolled past me, he suddenly swerved, brushing my leg and sending me tumbling toward the flower bed. I could hear the pansies being crushed beneath my high heels and I swung my arms around wildly, trying to keep my balance. A hand grabbed my elbow. It was Hyemeyohsts, who had rushed up just in time to steady me. I lifted my foot out of the newly watered garden and removed my mud-covered high heel.

One shoe on and one off, I hobbled my way into the hotel lobby with Storm, where I excused myself and went into the powder room. As I stood in front of the sink wiping the dirt off my high heel, I caught the reflection of a medium-tall blonde woman in a white silk dress staring at me from the mirror. I hesitated, peering at her image. She kept going in and out of focus. With a start, I.