Teaching Prologue: the Wisdom of the Storm-Walker
Across the vast prairies, when dark clouds gather on the horizon and the wind begins to carry the scent of snow and lightning, most creatures know exactly what to do. The deer bound away toward distant shelter. The rabbits disappear into their warrens. Birds take flight for calmer skies. Even the proud horses turn their backs to the approaching darkness and flee.
But there is one being that does something extraordinary, something that seems to defy every instinct we think we understand about survival. About ourselves.
The bison lowers its massive head and walks directly into the storm.
Not around it. Not away from it. Into it.
For thousands of years, observers have witnessed this seemingly impossible behavior. While cattle scatter and horses run, the bison moves with deliberate purpose toward the very thing that others fear. Their great heads become snowplows, clearing paths through accumulating drifts. Their thick coats - so perfectly insulated that snow cannot even melt upon their backs - become thermal armor against the cold’s assault.
They move often in single file, a living prayer line cutting through the white fury, each massive body sheltering the one behind. And in doing so, they accomplish something remarkable: they shorten their suffering. By moving through the storm rather than fleeing from it, they emerge on the other side while others are still running, still hiding, still waiting for someone else to tell them it’s safe.
This is not mere endurance. This is strategic wisdom written in bone and sinew across millennia.
The salmon knows something of this truth as it leaps upstream against the current’s roar, its body becoming a ritual of return. The Arctic tern traces the Earth’s breath from pole to pole, enduring hemispheres of wind and ice. The emperor penguin huddles in the howl, gathering warmth in the cold’s cathedral. Each creature has its own covenant with hardship.
But only the bison faces the storm with such clear, intentional consistency - turning toward what others flee from, shortening the passage through deliberate confrontation.
In the sacred traditions of the Lakota, the Great White Buffalo is more than rare - it is prophecy made flesh. The White Buffalo Calf Woman brought the sacred pipe and Teachings of peace, prayer, and unity. The birth of a white buffalo signals hope, transformation, spiritual renewal.
Consider the symbolism: a creature that faces storms head-on, enduring and transcending nature’s fury, becomes a living metaphor for the sacred act of moving through hardship with purpose. The storm-facing becomes a spiritual ritual, a practice of resilience that teaches us something essential about our own nature.
We, too, are equipped for storms.
We, too, can choose the direct path....
Music Cues:
the Guided Meditation:
Embodying the Storm-Walker
Settling Into your Nature
Find a comfortable position and allow your eyes to close gently.
Take three deep breaths, feeling your body settle into this moment, into this practice of remembering who you truly are.
Imagine yourself standing on a vast prairie. The grass swaying in wind-driven waves around you like a golden sea. The Sky stretches endlessly in all directions. This is ancient land, worn smooth by countless seasons, countless storms, countless creatures. Creatures who have learned to work with the weather instead of against it.
Feel yourself beginning to transform -
Your body grows larger, more substantial. Your shoulders broaden and strengthen. Your head grows massive and wise.
A thick, insulating coat grows around you - dense and warm, designed by Nature herself to protect you from the harshest conditions. This thick coat spreads across your back and sides - so dense and perfect that snow cannot even melt against it. Your feet become wide, sure hooves, designed to grip Earth even when it’s slick with ice or soft with mud.
Feel the weight of your new form - not heavy, but grounded. Substantial.
This is your inheritance:
the wisdom of countless generations who have faced storms and emerged stronger.
You are becoming the bison. You are remembering your storm-walking nature.
The Approaching Storm
On the distant horizon, you sense it before you see it. Dark clouds building like mountains in the Sky. The wind shifts, carrying the sharp scent of lightning and snows. The air grows electric with possibility.
On the near horizon, the smaller birds - arc and turn away.
Around you, other creatures respond as they always have.
Deer bound away toward distant shelters.
Rabbits vanish into hidden places.
Each seeking shelter, looking for places to hide, to wait it out.
Even the proud horses turn their backs and begin to run.
This is their nature, and it serves them well.
But something deep within you knows better. You feel it in your bones, in the ancient wisdom that flows through your blood: storms are not obstacles to avoid. They are passages to move through.
Something ancient and wise stirs within you.
Something deep within you knows a different way...
You feel the weight of your massive head, perfectly designed to cut through whatever lies ahead. You feel the thermal armor of your coat, tested by countless Winters.
You feel the strength of your hooves, made to grip the Earth no matter what weather comes.
You face a choice that you face in every storm of your life: Will you run from what approaches, or will you remember your nature?
The Sacred Choice
You could wait in shelter until someone else tells you it’s safe.
But notice how that feels in your body -
When you imagine retreating, hiding, delaying…
What happens to your sense of strength?
What happens to your trust in your own nature?
Notice what happens in your body when you imagine fleeing -
Feel the anxiety of looking over your shoulder, wondering if the storm is gaining on you.
Feel the exhaustion of running without knowing when you’ll find safety.
Feel the way fleeing makes the storm larger, more threatening, more in control of your path.
Now, turn toward the approaching darkness.
Feel how different this is:
Your head lowers slightly - not in defeat, but in aerodynamic wisdom.
Your hooves find their rhythm on the Earth.
Around you, your herd moves with the same quiet certainty.
No discussion, no doubt - just the ancient knowing that you were made for this.
Feel the strength that comes from choosing the direct path. Feel the way your very bones seem to say: “I am equipped for this. I have always been equipped for this.”
My Nature is to know the storm.
Walking Into the Storm
You turn to face the approaching darkness. As you do, notice you are not alone. Around you, your herd moves with the same knowing certainty. There is no discussion, no debate - just the quiet confidence of beings who trust their nature.
You begin to move forward, directly into the storm’s path. The wind picks up, but your low center of gravity keeps you steady. The first cold drops hit your face, but they cannot penetrate the insulation of your confidence.
Each step is deliberate, sure-footed. You are not rushing toward danger - you are moving with the steady rhythm of someone who understands the sacred duty of confident passage.
The wind picks up, but your low center of gravity keeps you stable. The deep and biting cold cannot shake your resolve. You are a calm, headstrong, snow-clearing bison, designed by millions of years of evolution to cut through whatever accumulates ahead.
Snow begins to fall more heavily now, but notice something miraculous: it cannot melt against your coat. Your insulation is so perfect, your inner warmth so well-contained, that the snow simply slides away. You are not fighting the storm - you are moving through it with respectful efficiency.
In the Heart of the Storm
Now you are fully within it. The winds howl around you, but you are steady. The snow swirls thick enough to hide the world, but your direction never wavers. Each step forward is a choice to trust your nature over your fear.
Feel how this is different from resistance. You are not battling the storm - you are navigating it. You honor its power while exercising your own. There is no anger here, no struggle - only the focused purpose of a being who knows their way through.
As you walk, reflect on the storms in your own life -
The difficult conversations you’ve postponed.
The challenges you’ve tried to go around.
The changes you’ve resisted, hoping they’ll pass you by...if you just wait long enough.
What would it mean to turn toward them with this same bison-nature?
Not with aggression, but with the quiet confidence that you are equipped for whatever weather comes?
The Passage Through
You continue walking steadily, and gradually you begin to notice something profound. The storm is not endless. No storm is endless. The wind is beginning to soften. The snowing is slowing. Your strategy is working - by moving through rather than around, by facing rather than fleeing, you are shortening your time in the harsh conditions.
And there, ahead of you, breaks of clear sky begin to appear. You have not avoided the storm - you have walked through its very heart and emerged on the other side. The air here is crisp and clean, washed by what has passed.
Look back for a moment at the path you’ve traveled. See how direct it was. See how much shorter your path has been than any detour would have been. Feel the deep satisfaction that comes from trusting your nature, from not betraying yourself with delay or avoidance.
Around you, your herd emerges as well. You were never alone in this passage. The storm-walking nature is not just individual strength - it is collective wisdom, shared courage.
Integration: Carrying the Medicine Forward
Now begin to feel yourself returning to your human form, but carry with you this bison Medicine. Keep the knowledge of your storm-walking nature. Keep the memory of your natural insulation - all the experiences that have strengthened you, all the wisdom you’ve accumulated, all the support that moves with you like a herd.
Feel your body in this chair, on this cushion, but remember the weight of those sure hooves, the warmth of that perfect coat, the steady rhythm of walking directly toward what must be faced.
Closing: The Great White Buffalo
Take three deep breaths.
With each breath, feel yourself more present in this moment.
With each breath, a new commitment to carry forward the gifts of this ancient wisdom.
Know that you can return to this storm-walking nature whenever you need it. You can choose to turn toward what approaches rather than away. You can trust that you were made for the passage through, not the flight around.
In the sacred traditions, the Great White Buffalo represents hope, transformation, & spiritual renewal. You carry this Medicine now - the understanding that storms are not obstacles but passages, not punishments but opportunities to remember who you truly are.
The storms in your life are not accidents. They are invitations to walk in your power, to trust your essential equipment, to move with the steady wisdom of those who know their way through.
When you’re ready, gently open your eyes, carrying this storm-walking wisdom into whatever weather awaits you.
Thank you.
A-ho.
