The Mystery of the Ancient Medicine Wheel
The mystery surrounding the Big Horn Medicine Wheel in Wyoming is layered—ancient, sacred, and largely unexplained.
For centuries, Indigenous tribes have made pilgrimage to this high-mountain circle of stones, journeying hundreds of miles for ceremony. Each tradition unique, yet all carry a shared legend:
"This was here before us. Older than our people. Built by the Scarface, the Burnface. Created by those who came before Iron."
The Wheel points to the stars.
How did so many tribes—separated by vast lands and languages—come to know of it? Why journey so far, again and again, just to stand in its presence and make offerings?
What truths remain about this circle? And what truths have been hidden?
The road trip from Utah to Lovell, Wyoming was meant to take eight hours. But with wildfire detours and winding backroads, it took ten. Still, when we arrived, the land met us in serenity.
Our lodging was remote, pristine. A duck pond mirrored the open sky, where clouds unfurled in shades of pink and orange, like cotton candy and sherbet poured across the dusk. It was quiet, reverent. Ready for us.
That night, our group gathered in prayer.
Each of us worships in our own way: Christian, Agnostic, Shamanic, Indigenous, Goddess. Every path was welcomed. Every voice mattered. As we spoke to the Divine in our own languages, the room became a temple of truth.
With the Lion’s Gate portal opening—a sacred astrological threshold once revered by the Egyptians—we set intentions in our journals. Words of what we wished to receive, to remember, to create on this sacred quest.
That night, deep sleep carried us on the Nile of dreams. At sunrise, we packed our gear and ascended to the mountains.
At the trailhead, park rangers—guardians of the path—recognized one among us as Navajo. With great respect, they offered to pause all other visitors for thirty minutes, so she could walk the land of her ancestors in ceremony, alone and barefoot. Only she held that right. Her people had kept this land sacred long before borders, fences, or signs claimed it.
Though I organized the retreat, it was clear: this was her moment to lead.
We followed her in reverent silence up the incline, surrounded by alpine beauty that rivaled the landscapes of The Sound of Music. It felt sacred. It felt right. To walk behind a woman carrying a lineage of strength, survival, and spirit.
As she stepped through the stones, sang her song to the sky, and offered tobacco and herbs to the Earth—no eyes were dry. The air shimmered with presence. Unseen generations stood with us. Watching. Acknowledging.
In that moment, something old began to heal.
A ceremony beyond words unfolded. Not for performance, but for truth. For remembering. For reckoning. And for honoring what had been buried for far too long.
That day, we walked the land. We touched the stones. We listened to the wind. And what we experienced—some would call it miraculous, others impossible. I call it sacred.
The Medicine Wheel holds something ancient: a current of energy that flows between earth and sky, past and future, seen and unseen. It is still alive. Still speaking.
I won’t forget.
By these words, I share what I can—so others may remember too.
Aho.
........
We have just returned from the powerful and ancient Big Horn Medicine Wheel. Activations were unlocked. Mysteries were unsheathed and more were revealed.
Join us for a recap of the Sacred Adventure as we tell of the experience and share secret knowledge that was uncovered by the journey taken.
The weaving of indigenous tradition.
A second wheel-kept hidden.
Underground passages.
Blue Beings.
And an attendee that was hunted by a cougar.
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