The Vision Quest and another Fantastic Tale

Ok, folks here it is - the story that will put me on the fruitcake (unbalanced) list. But there is more there than the solid computer keys you touch.

Once upon a time, I was an alcoholism counselor. I had a field office in a county and I really really loved my job. I also worked on the Indian reservation. Being part Indian, I was accepted fairly well. I went to feasts and ceremonies that other whites were not invited to. I loved the stews with corn and the deep fried Indian bread and the smell of woodsmoke.

There was an old man that could not speak English. We spoke by drawing in the dirt with a stick.

I saw things that frightened me - like an arm coming through my car window. An owl following me from place to place - a girl I went to talk to laid out on the sofa in full ceremonial dress looking like she was dead, but I was told to leave her alone, she was on an astral trip somewhere. I did, I left her lying there. The following week she came back.

I ran into Russell Banks or Dennis Means (I can't remember which, Banks, I think) in a bar while looking for a mommy who was needed by her children. The lights were turned out and I waited. They came back on and everyone was pleased that I stayed put and calm which demonstrated trust. (Little did they know what was going on inside - or maybe they did). Mom called me a white witch, and I told her if she hated whites so much she should hate the liquor that stole her childrens' mother from them.

An Indian friend whose husband was going to trial for murder wanted me to go to the Indian doctor with her and we were to travel to another reservation and leave at midnight. We took tobacco for the shaman/doctor. The owl followed us all the way. He knew me, and gave me my instructions. The Shaman blew a wind over me and shook his rattles. His instructions were to not eat anything given to me on the reservation. Watch out. He was also a psychic surgeon and I saw various organs and wierd things sitting about in jars.

So many problems arose from two warring factions and each faction had it's powerful people putting curses on the other faction.

A tall beautiful brown man fell in love with me. I was dangerously teetering.

Soon, I began to feel pretty messed up. Being a spiritual questor, but not yet a Christian, and having been raised on horror movies, my first thought for help with such fearful spiritual matters was the Catholic Church. I mean, all the horror movies, a cross, a Catholic Church and garlic were the standard protections, right? I went. The Father there said what I was experiencing was real and that is why the Church did not want folks messing with such powers. He didn't give me any of the things I thought I would get. Later, I discovered that if one knows God, then we have power over the entities I battled with.

I packed up my family and left that area and moved far away.

But sometimes when I smell woodsmoke and my spirit tells me the other half of my people are nearby, I want to park my car, get in an old pickup and ride off toward the horizon. Sometimes.

Looking back, I think no wonder I have not kept a job for 30 years and retired - I look back at a series of places where there was deep spiritual battle. I used to joke about the last stint in Wyoming being a spiritual assignment. Maybe it was. I'm sure banged up from the war, that's for sure.

Out there a Mexican shaman became my friend. He always showed up to warn me of problems. He was always right. I knew he had a sickness and I prayed for him. He was/is a brilliant man who sees deep into other places while living a grounded life and running a business. Yes, I put up a guard. I did not want to travel anywhere by any other means than a car, airplane or my feet.

Well, my grandson is bringing me back to firmly planted terra earth, I need to make a bedtime snack and get him settled in for the night.