Wary –the word within the word is well understood but vague.
- Lights, Phone, everything went out talking to George Noory! (oldironadventure.com)
Wary –the word within the word is well understood but vague.
Just in case anyone missed it –
I am about 3/4 of the way through my two hour interview and my phone goes dead, my lights turn off, and all the electric hum we never hear is gone – the dogs are going crazy outside!
I grab my Remington 870 (no, I do not rack a shell into the chamber – one is always there) and walk to the fuse box. Everything is good – phone in hand – I call the emergency number for George Noory! I am totally freaked out at this point and go on with the interview.
Thirty minutes later – interview finished and the wolves never come in this close to the house – they are letting me know they listened.
A Matrix is described as something (such as a situation or a set of conditions) in which something else develops or forms. Like Neo in the Matrix, children have to choose the red pill or the blue pill. The red pill and its opposite, the blue pill, represent the choice between embracing the sometimes painful truth of reality or hard work of learning (red) and the blissful ignorance of illusion and laziness (blue). The teacher is Morpheus as he explains to Neo (the students) – “This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill- the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill- you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I’m offering is the truth- nothing more”
Now this is funny – and it had to be said – I thought it was only me thinking who does his hair?
I have been asked to come on George Noory “Coast to Coast” and talk about my book!
Just a huge thanks going out to everyone and all the support!
Gonna be doing two hours with George Noory next Tuesday at 10pm Pacific on my book Skinwalker Shards Linger!!
Last night I was asked what is the scariest thing that ever happened to me on the Navajo Reservation?
I paused for a long time and thought back through some pretty horrific things that happened to me during my 13 years on the Rez. The prelude to the Ceremony happened the first night I slept in Greasewood, Arizona. I was sleeping in the newly refurbished ranch house in an old bedroom. I had a dream of ancient people who were trapped as if buried alive. It was a woman and her two children and they were terrified trying to escape their dwelling. The fear was palpable and it was as if I were there with them. I woke in a cold sweat and never forgot those native people trapped eons ago below the house – dying.
Fast forward four years and our horses had suffered from witchcraft and were sick. Our good friend and medicine man made the trip to the house with his extended family and I helped dig two pits for two fires, one close to the house and one about 1/4 mile away. The ceremony consisted of some of the family members gathering to rid themselves of the evil of witchcraft and we all sat on the hardwood floor in a circle in our front room. A large metal tray was filled with hot coals from the fire so the medicine man could see into the netherworld and find the evil. We all gave our clans (origins) and talked briefly about the evil that was infecting us. I was quiet because I am non-native and sat respectfully listening.
Hours of prayers, chanting and cedar burned and the smell of fresh cedar washed over all and renewed us. I was pleased the ceremony was going well and love the songs and chants in Navajo. It makes one feel as if they have been transported back to the early days of ceremony and song. My good friend the medicine man asked me to go and tend the second fire with him. He had extracted the evil from the home, horses and relatives and would now burn it in the second fire. I stoked the fire to great height and and the pit roared with fire in the crisp starlit night. The medicine man’s father accompanied us and stood watch with me. I will confess, I was a bit proud to be chosen as the “watcher”. The medicine man told me to watch to the south of us and I diligently complied. He began to chant behind me and the fire roared. In a moment, I saw not 50 feet away as the souls of the dead trapped in the earth – rushed forth. Like wraiths writhing in the starlight I was rooted to the ground, frozen, horrified! The medicine man yelled and told me to turn around – he said lift your feet so I can put ash on them. I was so scared I jumped in the air both feet forward. The medicine man laughed and said one at a time – and he and his father chuckled. They knew what I had seen and knew that they could not bother me.
Skinwalkers came next and watched as he burned the evil and sent it back into the ground. He cast them away with Navajo words and
protected me from their harm. When I re-entered the house everyone looked at me in a strange manner and asked what I saw. I just sat down and waited till the ceremony was over. I had never seen souls released and I still only call them that for lack of a better description. Thousands of souls pouring from the ground – ground I have run cattle over many many times. It still in the cold light of this Montana fall day – scares me to the core of my being.
So Mojo is barking at another dog as I get into the 1990 Dodge Power Wagon at the local IGA grocery store. Mojo’s hair is all up and he is barking hardcore – when this Indian lady with no teeth pops her head in my window. Okay she might have had one tooth, and she was gumming something in that cavern of a mouth that looked like a tooth – whew, just a sunflower seed. She said ” I have three dogs that could rip your dog apart if he is insulting me by barking at me”. Whoa, now here is a woman that takes her dogs serious. I smiled and tried to explain he was barking at a mangy old dog in the parking lot and it was all good.
She was jacked up and tweaking or drinking or both – pretty hard. She smiled her toothless smile and became all calm when she realized I was just a local stopping for junk food. We chatted for a bit and she kept reminding me of her three dogs at the trailer behind her mom’s house where she lives. She was very polite and asked me to come up to Lodge Grass Indian housing with her – I asked her about the young tweaker guy she was with – that mother fx%$#@ all thinks he is with me – but he ain’t even got a ride – I am gonna knock him out! Ahhhh, then I finally got it – she needed a ride and I was her john. I
always give people rides – from the guy who gave me $50 bucks (I did not take it) to give him a 1/4 mile ride up the hill to some pretty sketchy guys I made ride in the back despite the snow (they said “all cool bro – if we were you we would not let us in the cab either”.
The great people and great things that happen here in Lodge Grass where everyone waves and smiles and no one knows ur name! Now I know you Ms. Little Light…and again…yes, Crow Indians get all the cool names. (I wanna know where Mr. BigLight is)
Wikipedia defines: A penal colony is a settlement used to exile prisoners and separate them from the general populace by placing them in a remote location, often an island or distant colonial territory.
Felons today are throw away Americans! They did their time and some learned their lesson but like Hester Prynne of The Scarlet Letter they
might as well be tattooed with “FELON” across the forehead. They really have little hope of getting a job in mainstream society and most if not all return to crime. I do not blame them for returning to crime in fact I applaud it! Think about it – crime is big business. Big business on both sides of the table. The cops, courts, lawyers, and judges all feed off the tit of crime. The more crime the more secure they are in their jobs. The criminal oft times has a family to provide for and is a man or woman that has to support his family, addiction, or maybe even his dog.
I was talking with a neighbor the other day and she was joking about “all the felons head for the reservation”. (We have had two apprehended within the last few months.) I do not know if they think they can disappear or what? The Rez functions as a “Nation within a Nation” but bottom line the Federal authority is hardcore.
Which led my weary brain to Penal Colonies. In our age of enlightenment, where we so easily throw away anyone with a criminal record – why not a penal colony? There has to be someplace where we can send all the felons so that we can be rid of the pesky folks. Why not send them to a Penal Colony in say ? the Yukon and just let God sort em out?
Or maybe in this enlightened age that we live, we let them out after serving their time with clean records – ? Let them integrate back into society as functioning adults that work and live normal lives? In today’s internet search based world, why not a three strike policy without releasing their record? (Yes, I still believe that some crimes need to be recorded and those watched for a lifetime.) But I think the odds of recidivism will surprise many if only given a chance!
Talking to an attorney friend the other day – “after the arrest of any individual it is just damage control” guilty or not guilty – everyone after arrested is guilty in the eyes of the media.
Personally – I do not think anyone is “throw away”…
Musings on the second half of my life