"And he realized that everyone was dreaming, but without awareness, without knowing what they really are." The Smoky Mirror (A Mayan-Toltec philosophy)
There's a flat-line hymn for a heathen's heart. A death song sung for a passing spirit.
Feeling disembodied, I hear feint voices around me growing louder. They get so intense, words explode near my ears in a muffled roar. Still, I cannot comprehend them.
A nurse shoots an arm with a needle. A doctor hangs his head then looks at his watch. Urgency swells in the room as blue and white blurs scatter around the body. I want to cry, but maybe I am already.
A searing, white pinwheel of light bleeds into my consciousness. A tiny hole in an enclosing realm like throbbing rays of sunshine. Is this Heaven's waiting room? I ask myself. For Heroin couldn't come close to this feeling inside me: tranquility mixed with love times peace squared.
"He's not coming through this time" I can barely make out the words coming from a surgeon. A nurse feigns grief. She is numb and conditioned to this beast called Death.
"He had so much life ahead of him," I hear her whisper. And then that blasted dirge of a wailing flat-line.
"God bless your journey, cousin," someone whispers from the corner of the lobby.
A certain acceptance pervades my senses. We all have a time to live and to die but I can't help but wonder if I even lived at all.
And if this is indeed Heaven's chamber, then why can't I just let go. How did things get so out of hand? I must remember, I need to know.
For most of my life I had been stuck inside my head, recycling rusty habits, replaying old, familiar tapes.
As a functioning alcoholic, my liquor consumption could make the rock band, Guns N' Roses proud.
By day, I worked as a computer programmer in the Silicon Valley near San Jose, California.
Money lent me a sense of false pride and security; it also helped pay for drugs and booze and anything else that distracted me from my mind.
Yet the void was always there. I still felt empty inside. As if malfunctioning through life with a missing limb. Spiritually dismembered.
Uncertain about my Native American heritage, I decided to further research my roots and discovered that I was predominantly Hopi and Mayan Indian. This both thrilled and saddened me since I considered myself a Christian at heart who didn't belong to any organized religion.
For about year, I wavered between my Christian upbringing and newfound faith in the Hopi religion. I also cut back on the drinking, eliminated all drug use and opened my heart for the God of the Universe to fill with truth.
Deep in the confines of my soul I felt that the Great Mystery was waiting for me to fulfill a certain destiny.
And though you cannot force a vision if it isn't yet your time, I knew without question that my calling was upon me.
The deciding factor came after a night of excessive drinking. With head pounding from a ruthless hangover, I heard a voice speak to me, I never heard before. Needless to say, this event startled the devil out of me. You must wake-up now and stop your old ways.
This would make anyone question their sanity. At first, I considered it a factor from the alcohol abuse. But that didn't explain why this never happened before. Was my disease progressing into delirium or madness? I wouldn't wait to find out.
The Spritual Ark is closing. The voice continued to speak. I can't be going schizo, I fought back tears then turned my attention to a newspaper sitting on the table. NASA bombs the moon. Read the headlines. Is this the final sign of Revelation's Armegedon?
Up until this time, I had scoffed at all the talk of this 2012 Doomsday prophecy. But on this day, I felt a connection deeper than most.
What if the Hopi were right about their predictions? The world would end soon but the damage could be softened. As a direct heritage of these prophets, I could feel them all the way down to my strange, tingling bones.
What if what they were calling me to help heal the planet? What if my newfound conscience had been stimulated by these ancestors. And what if it was all merely legend, myth and nothing more. One thing stood certain, my spirit needed to know.
So, I sold my material possessions, keeping only enough clothing to help maintain my appearance and absolutely denounced all things related to technology.
The white man came to America with his greedy desires, bringing with him disease that would kill off 99 percent of my people, including our brother, Buffalo.
I resented him for this, yet here I was guilty of promoting his project myself by working for a technological corporation that manufactured textiles.
I should have known better but alcohol and drugs only served to blind me.
But now there would be no quieting this soul crying out for the Old Ways. Nor diluting of my indigenous blood that was dying to be part of the Sacred Circle.
The Hopi Elders had long predicted the dropping of the atomic bomb (a gourd of ash falling from the sky), the creation of the internet (cobwebs for communication), and a great road in the sky (airplanes).
To the Wise Ones, the earth could still be saved. With The Fifth Cycle of the planet closing, the time would arrive when we would experience late springs and early frosts; this will be the initial sign of the returning Ice Age. Global warming, the Greenhouse Effect, increasing hurricanes, earthquakes, abnormal heat waves: without question, signs of the Hopi prophecy, as well as in the Book of Revelations.
Yet Earth could be spared if only a few pure, righteous hearts led the revolution. According to legend, these selected few would be in their youth and would have shaved heads. I knew without question that Massaw-the Great Guardian of Earth- was talking about me. So with nothing but a few articles of clothing, and a small sum of money in my wallet, I left on foot in search of a transformation.
Death Valley, California: my destination. I boarded a train to Barstow then hitchhiked the rest of the way.
I had no idea the amount of pain I'd endure on my mission. The aridity of the climate, alone, left me a fish out of water. It took every last ounce of heart to endure the scorching heat. I wandered, seemingly in circles, until passing out from exhaustion. But one evening, after six, beyond-intense, life-threatening days of fasting, I received my first vision. It was so powerful I cried tears of joy. Tears I imagined were from the shedding of my former spirit.
These purplish skies were new to me. I had never seen such beauty before and with such pure clarity. A Hawk could be seen in the distance observing me. His eyes appeared to be reaching out to me, magnetizing my attention. Nothing could have been clearer than if Creator himself had spoken to me directly.
So I followed to where the Hawk sat perched on a rock. His eyes were hazel and sparkled each time it blinked.
I wondered if the bird was a figment of my imagination but the same sparkle that had temporarily blinded me was no longer radiating from the sitting bird's eyes, but from a man that stood before me.
He had the facial features predominant in Mexican Indians. His nose elongated but befitting his face. Although it was easily 110 degrees in the shade, he was wearing something like a brown poncho. His majestic, black hair poured down the sides of his weathered face, shimmering like moonbeams dancing on the ocean. His hands were as large as I'd ever seen; strong as stone, yet his aura was as gentle as the breeze that graced my body.
The man could have been 100 years old. He moved slowly, yet radiated an unfamiliar power. He stared at me as if we had known each other in this life or another. I thought of turning away but his eyes were so magnetic they imprisoned me. My body fully locked in his stare.
"I knew you would heed your calling, brave one. Come, come sit with me."
"Who are you?" I forced out the question.
He must have read the fear in my eyes for he laughed out loud. It was a sound that could calm the nerves of a man falling to his death. I knew at that moment he was a peaceful man. I no longer questioned the validity of his presence. But as for the crystal-blue pool of water he led me to, I could not say the same of.
Roaming Hawk gazed deep into my soul and left an imprint with his eyes on my spirit; much the same as when a moist hand rubs against a mirror. His eyes sedated me, deeply. I felt opiated, euphoric and fear no longer drifted inside of me.
He began to speak again. "I've been waiting for you. Do not be afraid. You are here because you were called. Creator has given you strong medicine but it is not enough. Listen closely and do not overlook one single word."
"My time is nearing when I will meet Great Spirit in the sky. First, I must give my knowledge to you so that my power doesn't pass with my flesh. You are destined to be a healer and on a grander scale then you can now imagine. Take my energy and with it the gifts I possess. I will inspire you to heal with herbs and through prayer and with spells of Ancient origin. You will be given the gift of Kokopelli, the wonderful healer, the divine sower of seeds. You will be a Medicine Man like none other before you, including myself. The time is coming for re-cultivation, the Circle is closing, a new cycle is nearing. You must bring awareness to all, Walks-With-Hope." His spirits seemed to sink with this last statement.
He continued: "It's better I show you for you must know this fear first hand. Shut your eyes." I followed his instructions, then felt his hands press firmly against my forehead. "Now accept the powers of eternal truth"
A dream began to form before me in my mind's eye. It was too late to turn back or to question his power. I became part of the scene that melded before me.
A child of six or seven stood ten feet in front of me. "Pssst. Hey. Come here, friend. Help me, please." The boy was tiny, three feet maybe, but his smile was so gentle that it relaxed me immediately.
His eyes were distracting me; they'd blink several times slowly, close for several seconds, then peel rapidly, similar to a motion picture reel. His actions were methodical, and when he set his gaze upon me again, it became a strong hand to my throat.
"Could you play with us here for awhile?" He stretched out his hand to point at the landscape peppered with other children. The earth, scorched; the smell of sulfur, oil and burnt flesh stung the senses.
Reaching deeper into my watery eyes, I knew his intentions. His heart: empty, eyes: volcano red and filled with a blood lusting hatred. He would murder me, drink my blood, eat my flesh, if given the opportunity. Of all the survivors that still roamed the Earth, this mutant species hated us the most for what we did to the planet.
Through Roaming Hawk's eyes I witnessed these young children determined to renew the world on their own craven terms; they'd regenerate the population with their own kind by feeding off our flesh. They had no soul nor conscience left to affect them.
One minute alone with them and you'd be completely under their spell. Food for the week. Just enough nutrients to help them survive long enough to breed.
I struggled to awaken from this nightmare, as they circled in around me. Roaming Hawk removed his hands from my head as horror wretched my spirit. Gasping for air, I gained consciousness then matched his stare without blinking, as if I'd fall to my death if I let go of his gaze. Roaming Hawk did not smile. "You can stop this from happening if you believe, Walks-With-Hope."
"W-w-why me?" I pleaded softly. "I don't have anything to offer."
"No! You have everything to offer. Only the One selected would have found me here. Now listen..." Roaming Hawk's eyes were distant. He could have been ten thousand miles away.
" "You have much work to do. Six months from now you must find me again in the desert. You will know where to go. The crow will guide you. Prophecy awaits. You are still a child in a mature man's body. It is time to grow, Walks-With-Hope. You must have faith. You must be strong. And you must not fail."
In a flash of platinum, Roaming Hawk disappeared. Feeling light-headed, I couldn't decide if I was dreaming or awake. And who among us can prove what is real or a dream? After all, we go about our lives, performing the staring role in our very own Motion Picture movie.
For the first time since I could remember, I felt at peace; genuinely happy, Filled with confidence, power, and fearlessness. Without a doubt, I knew my special calling.
I'd follow that inner-voice wherever it led me and then form the basis for BOLD: Braves of the Last Days.
I would become this Medicine Man Roaming Hawk spoke of. I would assemble a new tribe of like-minded warriors and together we'd strive to alter the events of quite possibly, the entire world