In a non-ordinary reality, I met a woman, elderly, short and round. Very much of Native American Descent, very much a happy soul. With her was a man, tall, dark to her light, and stoic. Also of Native lineage. She bade me follow the otter in a river that ran into/under a cave.

I am seeking them.

There is a cliff. In the "Badlands" of Australia. A lone tree stands against the coming sunset. A fire is burning. Waiting for my arrival. There is a man, Aboriginal, with bushy WHITE hair. He too is waiting for me, but when I come to the fire he is not there... But I know he awaits my arrival.

I am looking for him too.

I have no training. No formal induction into the ways of the Shaman. But I know where my path lies. Some say a Shaman does not declare himself to be a Shaman, but rather his actions speak for him. I have no actions, merely feelings and broken visions. I am searching for my guides, both on this plain and in the other realms.

You may call me Keeper. I am Rafiki-Friend in the Swahili tongue- to any who seek me.

I am here.

I am Waiting.

I am looking for "Them"