Hanta Yo



Hanta Yo is a Lakota Sioux term that means “clear the way.” It indicates the intention of drawing on the Great Spirit to clear the way while you do your part with faith.


According to a book I am reading written by a master acupuncturist, when physical pain is relieved, underlying emotional pain often rises to the top, and takes its place.

My physical pain was in my neck and shoulders. Neuromuscular therapy eliminated a lot, but the therapist told me there was more stress to be addressed.  I can feel it. Am I stressed? Yes. My house has been on the market for two years. I’ve had three offers that did not go to settlement. Strangers are still roaming through my rooms and peering into my closets. It’s a pain in the neck.

And then, there was my heart, beating through my ear. I saw an ENT physician, who identified the throbbing as a blockage in the Eustachian tube. He  has prescribed a nasal spray.  Was my heart trying to speak to me? Was it whispering in my ear?

The center beam under my house has come up in two home inspections. According to the inspectors, it should be bolted to two parallel joists and they need to be reinforced. And I’ve been resisting it. Early on, Bill and I decided to deal with it (it was like that when we moved in) by installing steel beams and later, I installed new joists all over. The house is, without a doubt, structurally sound. But the home inspectors see it and note it. It freaked the second buyer out. It’s like a sore thumb. Or a pain in the neck. In the last few months, I’ve grudgingly made some needed repairs – I replaced two windows, took care of a plumbing problem, and re-painted the deck and the porch. But I have stubbornly refused to have my house jacked up again (my granite counter top cracked last time) to fix that *###** beam. Not to mention the money.

Yesterday, I had it fixed. I surrendered.  And as the acupuncturist predicted, when I took care of the physical pain in the house and in myself, the emotional pain surfaced.

It came upon me as I was walking the river road. (For those of you who have read my book, there is a river road here, too.) It came upon me because I realized that this house was mine and Bill’s. This is where we sat on so many precious mornings at the kitchen table, talking about everything in the world. It’s where we celebrated Christmas, birthdays, Mother’s Days, Father’s Days. It’s where we watched the fireworks on our river on the Fourth of July. It’s where we fed our children, our grandchildren, and our friends. It’s where we laughed. And cried. On those last few days before he took to his bed, Bill would sit on the back porch and look at the trees and the garden I had made as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. And I was glad, because I had created it for him. And finally, on that day in August six years ago, Bill passed into spirit here. In his bed, in his home. In our home. In our house.

Tears blinded me as I made my way back. My house would not sell as long as I would not let it go. Perhaps I am letting it go now. Finally. Perhaps I am drawing on the Great Spirit to clear the way while I do my part with faith.


The Messenger IMG_0416

Helen Delaney’s book, The Messenger: The Improbable Story of a Grieving Mother and a Spirit Guide, is available on Amazon. You may find it by clicking on the link below.


5 thoughts on “Hanta Yo

  1. Dear Helen, I always enjoy reading your updates. I can empathize with your house situation. After 7 1/2 years we finally accepted a Short Sale solution to our Easton house. We were powerless over the market, what other people thought of the house compared to our feelings. We were forced to make a decision which was that in order maintain our financial and mental sanity, the house had to go. I guess we surrendered​ and let go and let God. I find that if I read the chapter on Acceptance periodically I gain considerably more insight, knowledge and serenity. Doesn’t get much better than that for me! I’d love to hear from you sometime. I really miss you at meetings. 843-461-3107. All our best to you. Love, John & Noreen Morgan.


  2. Beautiful. Letting go is difficult. I love the part about when the physical pain is gone it is replaced by the emotional pain. My experience is that my mind chooses not to deal with emotional pain then my body experiences physical pain. I guess that is the ultimate form of denial. I had a heart attack two months ago and up until recently I had been on a treadmill of non stop activity I filed my time so as to not deal with the feelings of fear. Once again it comes down to being in the hallway and trusting God to open the right door


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