Ghost Dancing by Rex Patrick Haire, Ph.D. - HTML preview

I telepathically told them that our leader, Nucleus 8, would arrive momentarily, and seconds later his deep blue, disc-shaped craft landed beside mine. Like a benevolent knight, he emerged wearing a form-fitting uniform of silver with black trim at the openings for his neck, wrists, and ankles. After appropriate greetings, we quickly realized that mental telepathy, telekinesis, and out of body traveling were standard Muan abilities. They looked at Nuke’s tablets and knew their content without having to read the words, but, considering our limited psychic abilities, they agreed to translate.

Nuke and his advance team of Alliance members met with Muan officials while Haggabatha and I followed our escorts into a temple-like building at the edge of the plaza and entered a room containing the visual displays of their own Information System. I was much more interested in communing with the unoccupied Muans strolling around the plaza than completing the laborious process of translation, so I simply asked our escorts to connect their System with the Alliance’s System in order to accomplish the translation quickly and efficiently. Haggabatha stayed in the room while this was being done and I went outside.

For this trip I had mentally entered Ragor, my counterpart in 8’s dimension, who spends much of his time searching for civilizations that he will invite to join the Alliance. While walking among the Muans I remembered that Ragor’s reptilian ancestors had contacted them thousands of years ago and had given them the information recorded in the tablets. The Muans were aware of my sudden insight. I knew they might have telepathically jogged my memory, but it seemed important to verbally repeat our common 367

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history to everyone there. When I began to speak, two eagle-sized raptors I had seen circling above the plaza flew down to perch on my right and left shoulders, which elicited Aahs and Oohs from the delighted audience.

After my brief speech I was very tired and obtained permission to rest within a relatively small stepped pyramid. Upon entering it, I found a vessel similar to those used for healing at the Station. I expected the energy focused on the container by the geometry of the pyramid to refresh me, but when I lay in it, my awareness immediately returned to my Earth body. I was very drowsy and a bit surprised to find that Nuke was still channeling. He said, “That was quite a trip, wasn’t it.”

I opened my eyes. “Yes. Did Haggabatha tell you what was written on the tablets?”

“He said to ask you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Counselor! You have no idea?”

“No.”

“But I gave you an assignment!”

“I know, but you asked me to do something I’m not capable of doing. You think I have abilities I really don’t have.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t know you were capable of doing it.”

“I figured it would be a lot more efficient to simply connect their System with the Station System than to sit down and translate it word for word. Why didn’t you bring the first four tablets? They contain the really important stuff.”

“I didn’t want all of them to be in one place at the same time, and they’re written in a language I didn’t think the Muans would know how to translate.”

“I think they know that language as well.”

“Why don’t you and Haggabatha go back with the first four.”

“I can do that.”

“We were gone a long time.”

“I got tired and had to rest.”

“We all got very tired.”

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“What do you think caused that?”

“I think it had something to do with the planet’s magnetic field.”

“If you want to know what’s in the six tablets we took, ask the System.”

“Did you get anything at all from them?”

I said, “I’m not sure if my impressions are correct, but I picked up that the Muan pioneers who were sent to colonize Earth were doing well and living in peace until extraterrestrial Atlanteans arrived and tried to dominate the whole planet. They asked the Muans to join them, but they refused. Instead of going to war with them, the Muans created an impenetrable energy field with their minds. Meanwhile, the Atlanteans were so obsessed with power that factions within their society began to battle each other, eventually devastating large areas of the planet and leading to the downfall of their culture. I also learned that Ragor’s ancestors enjoyed a peaceful relationship with the Muans.”

“I have to go back to the Station for a while.”

“Why does it bother you that I had the System do the translation instead of doing it myself?”

“Maybe I wanted to have a conversation with you about this.

Maybe I wanted to hear it from your mouth.”

“I didn’t know that. We can discuss the contents when you come back.”

When he returned I asked, “When we were on Murcury, did you feel as if you were spiritually related to the Muans?”

“I didn’t feel any connection with them. I asked if they wanted to join the Alliance and they said no, they have always been neutral and want to stay that way. When I asked how long they thought they could remain neutral, they said they had been doing it for trillions of years. Long ago they sent a group to colonize another planet but eventually lost contact with them and by then they had no interest in expanding their civilization. The status quo works very well for them. They have the all the raw materials they need because they recycle everything and don’t allow their numbers to exceed Murcury’s ability to sustain them.

“The six tablets indicate that very early in their residence on 369

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Earth the Muan colonists were visited by several beings, males and females, who could fly. The System equates them with angels.

Apparently the angels produced children who lived among the colonists as they began to build and expand their territory. The Muans had everything they needed to survive. At that time, there was only one large land mass on Earth, which made it easy to travel from place to place, but major earthquakes and tidal waves formed new continents, dividing them into separate groups. God-like beings who required machines to fly came to Earth and helped them to build new structures to replace the buildings destroyed by the cataclysmic changes. Nevertheless, the Muans began to die out for reasons they didn’t fully understand. It might have been caused by exposure to increased radiation from the sun.”

I said, “Adrian Gilbert and Maurice Cotterell claim in The Mayan Prophecies that the Mayans (Muans?) were worried about the bad effects that increased radiation from the Sun would have on their bodies.”

“The tablets don’t say what caused it. The last part of the fourth tablet, which is in the Muan language, deals with the survivors who arrived in the area now called Egypt and contains technical information about agricultural practices and making water courses for irrigation. My father mentions being chosen to work with the ones who came in the flying machines. The Great Pyramid was designed by them to serve as a beacon. He did not discuss the details of its construction.”

“Was Lyryn one of the original angels?”

“Why do you ask? I thought you doubted she’s angelic.”

“What is White Buffalo Calf Woman if not an angel?”

“Why do you have such trouble getting along with her?”

“Although she’s an angel, she has a human personality that grates on my nerves. I suspect my human personality gets on her nerves too, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am also Ragor.”

“I want to read a letter she recently sent me to you.”

Amy had eloquently written that when two souls are joined in true love, they leave behind their egos, prejudices and cultural trappings to become a new unity capable of remarkable knowing 370

and creativity and that the energy created by the joining of their two souls is numbered 6. Grand and exciting things were about to start happening; the changes taking place within her would lead to events much greater than they could imagine.

Nuke said, “This is a very high order of thought. It comes directly from the Creator.”

I answered, “I think it’s important to note that you received the tablets at this particular time. I also think it’s more important for you to know what’s in them than it is for me to know.”

He replied, “I have been thinking that a psychic person will interpret the first four tablets; somehow I know it is Christina (his stepmother).

“Why haven’t you already gone to her for help?”

“I’m being cautious. Why do you resist finding out what is in them?”

“I’m not the one who’s resisting. You keep telling me you’re too busy.”

“There have been cycles when I haven’t slept at all.”

“I don’t deny that you’re busy, but in the time that you have spent sitting here reading this letter to me and talking to me about what might be in the tablets, you could have already done what you know you need to do.”

“Counselor, sometimes you frighten me.” Without explaining what he meant by that, he went outside for a smoke. Thinking he wanted to be alone, I didn’t follow. He returned a few minutes later and said, “I put in a call to Christian (his brother). I asked him if he thought Christina (Nuke’s stepmother) could translate the first four tablets. He would only say I had to talk to her about that. I told him I would send her copies.”

I wondered if Nuke’s reluctance to speak directly to Christina resulted from the trauma of being treated like an object by his biological mother, who gave him no love at all. I changed the subject. “Were the Egyptians genetically related to the Mayans? The ancient leaders of both groups had unusually long skulls.”

“They are distantly related. The first Egyptians were also from another planet. They came here intending to extend their culture to 371

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Earth and to maintain communication with their home planet, which is a member of the Alliance. Although they arrived with advanced technology, they could not sustain it because they did not bring the means for reproducing it with them. They were far more interested in understanding universal truths than in technology.

For thousands of years, they physically interacted with indigenous earthlings of a lower vibration, which lowered their own level of knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.

“The Mayans and Egyptians interacted with each other. The pyramids built by both cultures are communication devices connected with other pyramids in this solar system such as those on Neptune, Mars and your moon. They also communicate with pyramids in other solar systems and with the vast network of pyramids in the multiple dimensions of the Alliance.

“Old prophecies, some of which are recorded on the tablets, state that 15,000 years, more or less, after the formal establishment of Egypt, a reactivation of this network will occur. When it happens the effect will be so dramatic that everyone on Earth will know the nature of reality as they perceive it has been profoundly altered.

This will occur universally and simultaneously wherever these connected pyramids are located. There are many people on Earth who are ready for this change and who will embrace it as a new beginning, something they have been waiting for all of their lives.

Others will reject it, push it away and deny it, because they cannot accept a change in their perception of reality. By their own actions, those who reject the changes will separate themselves from the glory of the Second Coming. They will not be able to enter into the kingdom of spirits that will be created by this event.”

“What will happen to them?”

“It isn’t clear to me just what will happen to them. Egyptian seers and wise men are withholding the ancient prophecies until certain sacred events occur. When the activation begins it will be such a large scale event there is nothing anyone can do to stop it or to prevent the world from knowing it is happening. It will be unmistakable.

“Amy has been in a trance almost continuously since going 372

home. She wants to perform a ceremony with me to retire the pipe she has been caring for and will obtain a new pipe of peace when she comes back. She also got permission from the Patrons to have Christina translate the first four tablets. Christina said we are to come and visit her.”

“Good. I won’t hassle you about them anymore.”

“Oh yes you will. I wouldn’t come here if you didn’t.”

“I was beginning to think you and Amy were dragging your feet about getting them translated. I think they’re very important and may change a whole lot of things, including how we relate to each other and the kind of activities we’re involved in.”

“The Patrons intend for me and Amy to have the remaining tablets interpreted this weekend. One reason why Amy came here is so you can be with us when Christina translates.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to be present. I thought the tablets were just for you and Amy. William Henry says in The Peacemaker and the Key of Life that when the peacemaker returns he will have a mate who will act as a catalyst and together they will open the secret chambers holding the sacred tablets that explain the origin of man and the plan for man’s future. I think you and Amy could be the ones he was talking about.”

“Of course you’re included! I wouldn’t do it without you. I need to have you there to help deepen my trance so I won’t resist accepting all of the information they contain. There are things you don’t know. You’re very important to the entire process in ways you don’t realize.”

“I’ll be happy to do my part. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

We started after breakfast. I readied the tape recorder while Nuke reclined on the living room rug under a blanket and with pillows to support his head. I sat on his left with my right hand an inch above his forehead; Amy sat on his right with her left hand resting on the center of his chest. I said, “Relax while I count you down.” I prayed for the Light, love, protection, insight and wisdom we needed to do the Creator’s work and understand the meaning of the tablets. When deeply entranced Nuke said, “Help me go 373

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back.”

“Back where?”

“In time.”

“Go back to the time when the tablets were created and understand why they are being created.”

“I am at the beginning, the beginning of creation. All the Patrons are present. I am reading from the tablet and it is also being read by Christina, who is a Patron:

It has begun. Persons of Light, persons of Sound, persons of Law. A remembrance forever. Patrons countless, seeing from above us, unworthy of their sight yet loved, yet held aloft. We accept countless many to join with us here. Teach us, sing to us, embrace us. It is new. It is good.

We shall suffer, we shall yield. We are family, never alone. Many times will pass: times of confusion, times of awareness. Each time will find a few who know. Too many thoughts cannot be expressed. We will learn over and over to polish ourselves, prepare for periods of peace, periods of war, periods of famine, periods of disease, periods of rejection. We say angels, lovers of Light, will surround this small world. Only a foolish man would cast that aside. We are not foolish. We embrace them, protect them, provide for them, create a path for them. They are the saving grace.

Wise ones are to come to take you to infinity. Regard this energy. It is everyone’s. Tall mountain peaks surrounding us. Walk over the mountain into the plains, into the flood lands, into the desert. Move about. Spread us.

Find the Patrons. Listen. They have power in their words, power of the beginnings, power of the end. We are changing, we are modernizing, we are foolish ourselves. This is only a moment for us. As a thirsty man desires water, seek the Patrons. They are here. Seek your guidance. Seek infinity. Follow infinity. Seek the angels always for yourself.

There is no more. There is no more.

Amy, speaking in words I did not understand, interrupted Nuke’s reading several times and understood his replies in Station Language. After each interruption, Christina had to help Nuke focus on the tablets again. Emerged from the trance, Nuke said, “I felt that everything I read has already occurred.”

I asked, “Why do you think you were with the Patrons at the 374

beginning of creation?”

Weeping humble tears, he replied, “Because I am one of them.

In their Light, I felt I was with my family. There was no feeling of loneliness. I realized I have been missing the spirit that now exists within Elizabeth (his recently born daughter). Deeply sobbing, he said, “I know that her soul has been involved in every one of my lifetimes and I have been missing it.” Amy and I took turns hugging and comforting him. He choked out, “I love you both so much! I’ve been afraid I would have to lose one or the other of you. I have tried to bring you together as a family but it hasn’t worked. I’m afraid to try again.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can continue working with Amy.”

In a prior regression session Nuke had visited a lifetime in which he received complete love and acceptance from his parents, the opposite of what he had experienced as Nucleus 8. Through this session, he had recognized the love of a soul mate within his daughter and had learned he is at home with the Patrons. I AM was seeing to it that the trauma caused by the despicable brain washing he received as a cadet from traitors intent on gaining control over the Alliance was being healed.

After twenty minutes of weeping and repeatedly apologizing for it, Nuke composed himself, blew his nose, and apologized once more.

“If you say I’m sorry again I’m gonna slap you,” I joked.

Amy laughed and said, “Don’t be sorry for releasing your emotions, It’s something beautiful. Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

He replied, “So much has happened I can’t absorb it all. I have been blessed in so many ways.”

I agreed that it seemed as if the events described in the tablets had already occurred. Marjie and I had walked over mountains, crossed the flood plains of various rivers, especially Chaco Wash, and visited deserts. We had consorted with angels, had accepted them as gifts from I AM, and had befriended a Patron!

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Chapter Twenty-five:

White Buffalo Calf

Woman Speaks

When all was calm again Amy channeled White Buffalo Calf Woman, who asked Nuke and me to play a game with her. She took three crystals from a window shelf and told us to follow her outside. She placed two small sticks on the ground several inches apart and parallel to each other and instructed us to stand about fifteen feet away from them. She said the object of the game was to toss our crystal so that it would land between the sticks. She demonstrated the right method by blowing on her crystal to make it fly better and by rubbing it between her hands to give it energy before tossing it at the sticks. Upon hitting the ground, her crystal bounced, rolled, and disappeared! We searched the closely clipped grass all around the sticks to make sure our eyes had not played tricks on us but could not find it. Amazed by its disappearance, we forgot about finishing the game and went back inside.

White Buffalo Calf Woman asked me to take the tobacco Amy had brought with her outside and to ask the spirits to bless it. Holding a pinch of tobacco toward the sky, I asked for all of it to be blessed while facing each of the six directions, then tossed it into the air and went back inside. White Buffalo Calf Woman had cut eight squares, each having sides about an inch and a half long, from a piece of striped cloth. She put little piles of the tobacco on the squares and made little bundles by securing the gathered edges with string. As if making a necklace, she tied the bundles at equal intervals onto a longer string and told us to follow her outside. She told 8 to select a tree, tied the necklace to one of its small branches, and said, “Now we have to dance around the tree eight times.” We imitated her toe-heel dance steps that grew faster with each completed circle until the last one, which

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was danced as slowly as the first.

I noticed that a long slender branch I had seen on the ground earlier was now lying across one of the decorated tree’s limbs. I asked who put it there, but no one answered. When I pointed out this oddity to White Buffalo Calf Woman, she handed the branch to 8 and said, “You must keep this as a memorial.”

“I’ll stick it in the ground so it will grow into a tree.”

“No, you must take it with you.”

For much of that evening Amy channeled White Buffalo Calf Woman, mostly speaking in her native language because English was too difficult. Nuke understood her and occasionally asked her to speak English to me. In one instance, she said to me, “You are a noble spirit.” She pointed at the portrait of an Indian warrior hanging above the fireplace and said, “When you were that, you smoked a great deal.”

I replied, “Just before you said that I remembered that as Chief Joseph I smoked too much and had trouble breathing in my old age.

I died of slow suffocation. I suppose that’s why I refused to smoke in this lifetime.”

She added, “You did not mind dying, for you knew that you would join your father, the sun. You died happy in spite of all the losses in your life.”

I complained of pain at the base of my spine when we stood up from the supper table. White Buffalo Calf Woman rubbed my stomach and said, “The pain is not caused by your spine. It is due to a problem in your right side. That is where you have a connection with your mother.”

Eight explained, “She feels your mother’s energy in your body there, and says it is causing your tailbone to hurt.”

White Buffalo Calf Woman said, “It is very important to tell your mother that you forgive her for any wrongdoing she may have done to you when you were a child and at any other age. Tell her that you love her and do not have any grudges or resentments against her. She is worrying herself to death over your father.

“There was an automobile accident recently that your mother has not told you about. Your mother loves you very much. You are 378

more to her than just a son. At an emotional level, she needs for you to be her father now and tell her that you love her and forgive her.

I am being instructed by another spirit that you should do it within three days.”

“Thank you for that advice. I will do as you say.”

I later recalled that when I was about four years old, my mother, kneeling at my right and giving me a bath, scolded and shamed me for getting an erection.

That night we enjoyed a walk under a beautiful sky that featured the bright lights of UFOs in every quadrant. Some, that 8 called skippers, flew high and fast with very rapid flashes. Other very slow ones did not flash at all. White Buffalo Calf Woman said, “Some of them came from a Mother, who is nearby.” A while later she said,

“My brother is the one you call Christ.”

White Buffalo Calf Woman’s habit of expressing every thought or desire like an innocent child amused me, but Nuke privately said,

“Too much has been going on today. I’ve had all I can take of her. I need the patience of Job. I want my Amy back.”

“Why do you find her so hard to take?”

“Doesn’t she get on your nerves?”

“No. She’s not as domineering as Amy tries to be.”

After our walk Nuke and Amy retired to the cottage, only to come knocking at my door a few minutes later. Once inside, Nuke eagerly said, “I want to show you something magical. Look at Amy’s ring.” A tiny gray feather was stuck between it and her finger.

Amy said, “I took my hand out of my pocket and there it was. I know there weren’t any feathers in that pocket.”

“Even if there was a feather in your pocket, your ring is too snug for it to get stuck there accidentally. It reminds me of that white feather we saw floating in the air when White Buffalo Calf Woman was making hot chocolate. She got very excited, caught it, and said it should be kept in a sacred place.”

After Amy had gone home Marjie said, “I spent the whole time Amy was here at the feet of I AM, basking in His Light.” I filled her in on the magical events associated with White Buffalo Calf Woman’s 379

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channeling.

Nuke and I were walking one evening when he said, “I saw an Indian spirit walk across the yard a few nights ago.”

“Do you think it could have been Tanner? Sarah told him to stop sulking and to be more active.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been missing White Buffalo Calf Woman a great deal and I feel a little guilty about it. Even though I know she’s an aspect of Amy, it’s nerve-racking to be so attracted to her when I already have a wife and don’t need another. When I discussed it with Amy she said there are many other aspects of herself that I don’t know about and some I might never know about, but as long as it was her, she wasn’t jealous. She thought it was a good thing.”

One day Marjie and I were having lunch with Amy, who said to me, “I have a feeling there’s something I’m supposed to tell you but I don’t know what it is.” White Buffalo Calf Woman then said, “A small tornado is coming through your lives. It will seem very destructive to what you have built, but it is actually a blessing. In rebuilding, you will create something much better than what you had before. It will be something more expressive of your true self.

Although you may have feelings of bitterness or revenge, you should remember to stay centered and try to be happy every day.

Everything is going to be wonderful if you keep yourself calm and do not allow yourself to be dragged down by negative thoughts about what is happening.

“You have already taken the steps within yourself to be able to weather this storm. It is like boats. Some are built for stormy weather, and some are not. The ones that are not built for it may sink in the storm, but the ones which are built for it will not. You are built for storms. The storm to come will be like a tornado of Light. Before you can build something new, the old has to be taken away.”

I privately asked Marjie if Alta Sha had any comments about White Buffalo Calf Woman’s remarks. “He says she is simply another source.”

Her prediction was accurate. The politically motivated storm arrived from an unexpected quarter, lasted several months, and 380

caused me to voluntarily withdraw from the practice of Clinical Psychology. Marjie and I were driving to Memphis shortly after I made that decision and Alta Sha said, “I enjoy sitting with you, Freedom. You are now free to be yourself.” When we neared a MacDonald’s I complied with his suggestion to purchase two Big Macs, a chocolate shake and an order of fries. He arranged our food so we could eat it on the go. Between my bites of hamburger, he fed me French fries, saying, “We are cruising. Alta Sha cruises. We have a party!”

I laughed and said, “You told me that the last syllable of an angel’s name, such as el or yn, indicates the level of the hierarchy at which they function, but your name doesn’t have that kind of ending. Do guardian angels have their own individual names, unlike other types of angels?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

He thought for quite a while. “I suppose it is because we are attached to a particular individual.”

“If Lyryn isn’t a guardian angel, what kind of angel is she?”

“She is at what you would call a baby stage of development. This is so because she chooses to live in a physical form. She needs a physical form to communicate, but at my level there is no need for one. Perhaps when she leaves her form she will work at Alta Sha’s level.”

“Are Lyryn and White Buffalo Calf Woman the same entity?”

“They are different.”

“Is White Buffalo Calf Woman the same entity who taught the Indians how to use the peace pipe?”

“Yes, but she is also at a baby level of development.”

“Even after all these centuries?”

“As you already know, there is no time within the spiritual world.”

After the initial flurry of channeling by White Buffalo Calf Woman, she stopped communicating. Nuke’s dislike of her childlike ways might have led to her withdrawal but I suspect she had simply shared all she wanted to with us and found more productive things 381

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to do. Amy continued as her usual self, which pleased Nuke.

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Chapter Twenty-six: Tony And Didiwahtay Marjie and I were shopping in a hobby store when Didiwahtay said he wanted to have paints and brushes so he could make pictures.

He was very grateful to receive them as well as a small easel and some paint boards. I was impressed with his first effort, an attractive picture of snow covered mountains and evergreen trees under a full moon mirrored in a lake, which he completed that evening. Before long, he had painted another landscape of trees and gave a lovely sunset to Amy.

Tony, Marjie’s young adult son, lived with us for a year. I did not attempt to change Tony’s rigid religious beliefs but attempts to form close relationships with him by the entities who channeled through Marjie soon convinced him that they were real and quite independent. Nucleus 8 made a persistent effort to be his friend. I was pleased when Tony asked me to help him explore other lifetimes through hypnosis. Nuke channeled when we had the first hypnosis session. I said the usual prayer for guidance and protection before giving Tony the necessary suggestions and he was quickly entranced. He described a journey to an unfamiliar shore where a large group of armed Indians jumped from behind the bushes to confront him. He kneeled, touched the ground with his left hand and held up his empty right hand to show them he was friendly. “They’re coming toward me. Their leader is a warrior.

There’s something odd about his left eye. There are three stars in the iris! His eyes are very compelling. I feel as if I could fall into them. When I look deeply into them, it feels as if he is looking right through me. I know I have seen these eyes before but I can’t remember when or where.

“He’s taking me to their village. I am being introduced to the village elder, who is the chief. He’s very old. He’s inviting me and 383

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the warrior into his teepee. I know the warrior is also a holy man.

The chief is lighting a fire. Now he’s lighting the peace pipe. He smokes it and passes it to me. I puff on it and pass it to the warrior.

The chief is saying something in a language I don’t understand.

He’s moving his hands above the fire and a face is forming in the smoke. It’s a wolf, howling. His mouth is open and his fangs are bared. It’s drifting away through the smoke hole.

“Now I’m going to another teepee with the warrior. He’s also lighting a fire. He is showing me his bow, which is very beautiful.

He is lighting the pipe, smoking from it, and passing it to me. He’s making movements with his hands over the fire. I see a hawk flying in the smoke. The spirit of the hawk is passing right through my head!”

I said, “Enter the spirit of the hawk, just as the hawk’s spirit has entered you.”

“I am high above the village. I can see every detail. The country is very beautiful. I’m going back to the ground and landing on a perch. I am looking at myself from the perch and he is looking up at me. I feel our spirits uniting and I am in my own body again.”

After a few seconds of silence I asked, “What is happening now?”

“The shaman and I are talking.”

“Move forward in time to the next significant event in this lifetime.”

“I’m being given a teepee by the people. It is decorated inside and is very beautiful. I have my own bow. It is decorated with feathers from one end to the other.”

“Do you live alone, or do you have a female companion?”

“I live alone.”

“Continue.”

“I remember being taken to the top of a cliff above the village at dusk by the warrior shaman. We see the valley below us. The warrior is pointing at a shooting star. The warrior gestures across the whole sky. I am very impressed with the millions of stars we can see. When I look at the shaman’s profile, the three stars in his eye glint very brightly.

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“He’s leading me back to the village. I am going into my teepee alone. A woman lifts the door flap of my teepee and tells me to come to the teepee of the elder right away. He is dying. The warrior shaman is here. The chief’s name is Timber Wolf. He is passing his pipe to the warrior for safekeeping. He is asking me to look after the village while the warrior shaman goes away on a journey. This is a great honor. I am very sad because the old man is dying and so is everyone else. The old man has died.

“The warrior shaman is getting on his horse with the pipe and is riding away. I think he is going on a quest for spiritual guidance before he returns to be the new chief.”

“Go forward to just before your death. Remember the good and the bad things you have done. Understand the meaning and purpose of your life.”

”The people are standing outside my teepee crying because I am about to die. I know that the shaman warrior was killed by the bullet from a white man’s gun for no reason except he was an Indian. The warrior shaman’s son has come into my teepee. He has the same stars in his eyes that his father had. I think the bow of the leader might pass to him, but it isn’t clear who will be leader when I die.”

“Pass through your death.”

“I am the hawk again. I’m flying high above the village.”

“Find a beautiful Light and fly toward it.”

“I am flying toward the Light. I see the elder and the shaman warrior. It is good to see them again. They are escorting me into the Light.”

I counted Tony out of the trance. He said, “When you were counting me back the entire journey of my life repeated itself backwards. I saw bits and pieces of it all until I was finally at the beach where it all started. That was so real! My name in that lifetime was He Who Flies with Hawks. The elder gave me that name and I was very proud of it. Now I understand why I love nature so much!” He laughed.

My eyes filled as I prayed, “Thank you I AM and all attending spirits for giving Tony such a wonderful experience.”

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Tony confirmed my thought that the three stars in the warrior’s eye resembled those in Orion’s belt. When I asked 8 if he was the warrior with stars in his eyes he wouldn’t deny it. He said one reason for wanting Tony to have a trance session was to help him remember that they had met before. “That explains why Tony had a déjà vu experience when you were introduced to him.”

At the supper table one evening, Didiwahtay grasped Tony’s forearm with an Indian style handshake and said, “You are of a different tribe.”

“I don’t know what tribe I came from. I’m still searching for it.”

“I understand.”

Tony asked him, “What tribe are you from?”

Didiwahtay looked to me for the answer and I said, “Utee!”

Within two hours after our meal, Didiwahtay created a very good painting of a prairie, mountains and evergreens at sunset. He gave it to Tony, saying, “This is for you, brother.”

Didi’s next painting featured a mountain partially covered with fog, and a pink cloud above it. A triangular opening in the mountainside revealed a sunset and a faery looking toward the viewer.

Most of Didi’s paintings included birds and he continued to enter them. He preferred flying within the plentiful crows and buzzards of our rural setting and often steered them close to us. I envied Marjie and 8’s ability to know without a doubt which birds contained his spirit. Although they usually confirmed my guesses, I did not feel certain of my perceptions. When a buzzard soared close to Nuke and me as we worked at building a barn he said,

“That boy sure does love his daddy.”

I replied, “And his daddy sure loves him.”

On another occasion I asked Didi if he had visited his Tsankawi home again. “No, I want to stay close to this home. I like to look down at my Dada.” A crow flew by and he said, “My friends are waiting for me,” and left.

When I made the difficult decision to retire from the practice Clinical Psychology, our interdimensional family members were very supportive. Didi said, “I have been staying close to you, 386

Dada.”

“Thank you. I thought I saw you in several birds recently.”

“Yes. I know Dada’s heart is hurting.” He asked me to hold him and I gladly did.

One day he announced, “I was flying in a crow and tried to steal a snake from a hawk.”

“What happened?”

“The hawk screamed at me.”

“Someday you will be able to fly within a hawk.”

“I can try.”

“Have you ever asked permission?”

“I have not asked.”

“If you did, maybe one would let you.”

One or more of the children for whom Marjie and I were responsible would usually channel when we went shopping. On one such trip to town I slowed the car to walking speed because a buzzard was standing in the road. Hope, a very young hybrid child of ours asked, “What is that?”

When I said, “It’s called a buzzard,” it flew over the field to our right.

Hope said, “It’s big. That’s Didiwahtay!”

It was Christmas Eve and Tony wore a Santa Clause hat all day.

We were opening presents when Didi proudly announced, “I entered a hawk for the first time today.”

I said, “Congratulations!”

To Tony he said, “I spoke to you when I flew across the field, Tree Walker. I like the hat you were wearing.”

Tony replied, “I remember hearing the hawk’s cry.”

To Didi I said, “Maybe you should have taken his hat.”

“I wanted to but wasn’t sure I could control the hawk. Maybe I will next time.” Tony knew that Marjie and I had not witnessed the hawk crying at him.

Didi’s present was a shiny concho with leather strings hanging down to which hawk feathers were attached with beads. I said,

“Here is a gift in honor of your accomplishment.”

Tears filled his eyes. “Hang these in a special place for me.” After 387

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many years they still hang in a special place and Didi occasionally approaches me in birds. I greet with much affection.

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Chapter Twenty-seven: Tony And Tanner Marjie and I were strolling around the yard when she began to walk with the familiar stiff gait of a very old man. I said, “I’m very happy to see you again, Tanner.” We gave each other a hearty hug.

He said, “Tanner loves Man to Come.”

“Man to Come loves Tanner. Eight is looking for you.”

He smiled. “Tanner hide.”

He slowly put Marjie’s left foot up on the low porch. Refusing my help, it took him three tries before he could lift her right leg high enough to step up. We entered the house and he said, “I need to go to the magic waterfall.”

I asked, “The one where the wolves live?”

“No.” He pointed to the bathroom and I followed. As we entered, I turned on the ceiling light. He said, “Magic sunshine.”

When I had adjusted the shower’s temperature to suit him Tanner undressed and stood under it. “How you keep water warm?”

“The energy that makes the magic sunshine also heats the water.”

After a brief shower he wrapped a towel around Marjie’s waist and said, “I have no clothes.”

I said, “I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He followed me toward the door. At the lavatory sink, he picked up Marjie’s toothbrush and said, “Porcupine.” He held up a comb and said, “Fishbone.”

It was nearly bedtime, so I handed one of Marjie’s nightgowns to him. He frowned, shook his head, and said, “Squaw dress!”

I pointed at her and said, “Squaw body.”

He nodded, put it on, and said, “How leave room?”

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I showed him how to open the door. On our way to the bedroom, we passed by the living room, where Tony, wearing a headset, was listening to music. Tanner pointed and said, “Rabbit.”

I replied, “Not rabbit, Hawk. Tree Walker.”

When I introduced Tanner, Tony stood up, shook his hand, said,

“Pleased to meet you,” and sat back down.

Tanner commanded, “Stand up!”

With a confused expression, Tony obeyed. I said, “In the presence of an elder you stand until the elder sits down.” Tanner took a seat. I sat beside him and Tony sat facing us.

Tanner asked him, “What tribe?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“You lost. Do you have your man’s name?”

“I don’t know.”

“He wants to know what name you were given now that you’re grown.”

“I’m not sure I know.”

Tanner said, “What is your baby name?”

“Tony Dale W….”

“What your grown up name?”

“Tony Dale G….”

“Tanner shook his head. “You not find your spirit name?”

“My spirit name is Hawk.”

“Hawk Tree Walker. Good name. Did you receive sacred objects when you learned your spirit name?”

“I don’t remember any.”

I said, “Amy gave you a hawk feather, or rather White Buffalo Calf Woman did.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You have pouch for sacred objects?”

“Yes.”

“You have other objects in pouch?”

“No.”

“Why you so poor?” Tony smiled. “You sure you have no other sacred objects?”

“I was given some charged crystals.”

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“Where crystals?”

Without getting his permission to leave, Tony went to fetch them. Tanner said, “Hawk Tree Walker no have manners.”

“He thought you wanted him to get the crystals. He didn’t mean to be rude.’

“Tanner not straight tree.”

Puzzled, I said, “Straight tree?”

“Tanner not like straight tree. Not ridge. This right word?”

I said, “Rigid.”

“Yes. Tanner not rigid.”

Tony returned with his red medicine pouch and a tiny earring made with the hawk feather White Buffalo Calf Woman had given him and sat down. Tanner said, “You have blood pouch. You give me pouch.” Tony handed both items to him. “Good. Why you so poor? Why you have nothing in your pouch?”

“I want to be sure that anything I put in my pouch is truly sacred.”

Tanner nodded. He looked at the full canvas bag beside the hearth and asked me, “Those Tanner’s stones?”

“Yes. Would you like for me to bring them to you?” He nodded.

He and I emptied the heavy bag. Tanner showed Tony various rocks and asked me, “You have any Mother’s hair?” With his permission I gathered a handful of sweet grass and gave it to him.

He put a small amount of it in the hollow of a stone from Manu Bijou and asked Tony, “You have tobacco?”

“Yes. Do you want me to get some?”

“Go.” Tony returned with a can of snuff and opened it. Tanner put a pinch on top of the sweet grass and used the tortoise rock to grind the dry grass and snuff together. To me, he said, “Get box with other sacred stones.”

When I came back he picked up a red sandstone rock and said,

“This my people.” He ground a little of it into the other ingredients.

He picked up a black rock. “This black people. They my people too.” He ground a little of it into the hollow. He held up a white rock and said, “This white people. They my people too.” He followed suit with a bit of yellow rock. When all the ingredients 391

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were ground together he made a circular motion with his right hand above the mixture and said, “All of these my people.” He held up a piece of charcoal collected from his cave at Tsankawi and said,

“This from Tanner’s fire,” and rubbed a bit of it into the hollow.

“You have white, yellow, red and black people. You have tobacco from Mother Earth. You have hair of Mother Earth. All is perfect. Is all you need.”

He rolled the ingredients together with the fingers of his right hand until they made a little ball and handed it to Tony. “Spit on ball. Make it wet and press tight.” Tony spit on his fingers in order to wet and compress the ball. Tanner said, “You smart. Not poison self by putting in mouth.”

He picked up a bird-shaped stone which had an indentation where its eye would be and said, “This head of bird. Hawk . Take ball and put in place where eye goes. You strong?” Tony nodded. “Press hard.” Tony did. “Good. Put in blood pouch. Now you see clear what is important.”

He handed Tony a small piece of petrified wood from the Chaco mesa and said, “This magic wood. Once was soft, now hard. This wood was easy to bend. Now, hard and strong like you.” Tony examined the stone closely. He tried to hand it back to Tanner, who said, “Put in pouch.” After Tony did that Tanner said to me,

“Tanner no longer need stones.” I put them back in the box.

He stared at Tony for a minute or so. Not knowing how to respond, Tony looked at me for guidance, but I did not know what Tanner wanted and shrugged my shoulders. Tony asked him,

“Have I done something wrong?”

“You kill man?”

“No.”

“You make love with woman?”

“No.”

“You sit and listen?”

“Yes.”

“Then what you do wrong?”

Tony said, “I am not used to your customs.”

“What you have to give Tanner?” I had forgotten that a gift was 392

in order.

Tony said, “Oh! I have something I made.”

“You go get.”

“May I leave?”

“You go.”

Tony returned with another earring decorated with a tiny white feather and presented it to him. Tanner said, “This good. Tanner old. Get cold in winter. What you have to keep Tanner warm in winter time?” Although speaking as if quite serious, I knew he was pulling Tony’s chain and smiled.

Tony said, “Something to keep you warm in winter? I have a coat.”

With a questioning look Tanner said to me, “Coat?”

I asked Tony, “Do you have a blanket?”

Tanner interjected, “No, coat is good. Go get coat.”

Tony returned with his house robe and handed it to Tanner.

“This has been through nearly everything I have been through. It’s my most prized possession.”

“This is good coat. You have moccasins?”

“No, I don’t have moccasins.”

“You no have moccasins for feet?!”

“I have boots.”

“Get best boots.” I stifled my laughter until Tony left. Tanner said, “Tanner make you go sit with women and children. You no respect. I teach boy lesson.” I wore a solemn expression when Tony returned.

Tanner admired Tony’s new boots and said, “What else you have for Tanner?” Tony was unable to think of anything else and Tanner asked, “You have wampum?”

“Wampum?” Tony didn’t know that word.

I pointed to a dollar bill in Tanner’s bag of stones and said,

“Money.”

“Oh! Yes.”

Tanner ordered, “Go get wampum.”

When Tony returned and gave him a dollar bill Tanner said,

“This all wampum you have?” I stifled a laugh.

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Tony said, “Oh. I didn’t know you wanted more. Do you want it all?”

“Yes. Go get.”

Acting as if giving Tanner all he had was perfectly normal, Tony emptied his wallet of $14.00 and I struggled not to roll over laughing.

Tanner put the dollar he already had with the $14.00 and gave all of it back to Tony. “Tanner no need wampum. Tanner already have wampum.” After putting the too large boots on his feet Tanner handed them back, saying, “Tanner no need boots. Tanner already have moccasins that fit!” He also handed the robe to Tony. “Tanner already have warm blanket; does not need coat.” He held up the white feather earring and said, “Tanner no have magic feather earring. Tanner keep.” He gave it to me and said, “Put feather in little box with fingerprint.” I nodded. He looked at Tony and said,

“What you learn from what Tanner do tonight?”

“I don’t know if I can put it into words. I have to think about it.”

Tanner said, “Tanner old. Tanner sleepy. Few words.”

Tony said, “The only gifts that really matter are gifts that come from the heart.”

“Good.”

Holding the hardened mortar fingerprint he had taken from an ancient kiva he had helped to build, Tanner asked me, “How old you think this is?”

“Many, many years. Maybe a thousand.” Tanner handed it to Tony, who carefully examined it.

“This Tanner’s fingerprint. This come from sacred temple where he lived. Very old.” Tony handed it back to him and Tanner gave it to me. He stood up, gestured for Tony to rise, and I did as well.

Tanner grasped my right arm in an Indian-style handshake. I put my left arm on his shoulder, and he did likewise to me. He grasped my left hand in his, moved it to his heart, and put his left hand on my heart. My eyes filled with tears of gratitude for the love we shared. He grasped Tony’s right arm in an Indian handshake and placed his left hand on Tony’s right wrist, saying to him, “Do same as me,” He slowly moved his left hand up Tony’s right arm. Tanner 394

looked to me for help when Tony began moving his hand up Tanner’s left arm. I showed Tony what to do, and they moved their left hands up the other’s right arm to the shoulder. Then Tanner moved Tony’s left hand to his own heart, and Tony did likewise with Tanner’s. He said, “You good man. You fight for your people and you fight for yourself. You great warrior. Someday you will be big chief.” Tanner stepped back and said to him, “Someday Tanner take you on trip to mountaintop. Tanner not forget. Tanner tired, go now.”

I hoped this ceremony would have a lasting effect on Tony.

At the next opportunity I asked Nuke, “Did you find Tanner?”

“Yes. I spoke to him after he spoke to Tony. He accepted my apology and we are on good terms again.”

“He said he had been hiding when I told him you were looking for him.”

“How could I not have known he was here?”

“I guess that was his idea of a joke. I’m glad you two are speaking to each other again.”

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Chapter Twenty-eight: Releasing Spirits Months passed with few inspiring events. I was restless and bored with the every day routine of our lives. I missed contact with the Indian spirits and if I thought too much about them I would weep with longing. I felt there was some unfinished task I should be doing on their behalf but couldn’t define what it was. Marjie complained that my unsettled mood was also affecting her own.

“Go out west to find what you’re looking for and don’t come back until you know what it will take to make you happy. If you need to move, I’ll go with you to wherever you want to be.” I wasn’t convinced that traveling without a definite goal would help, but when Alta Sha and Nuke agreed with her I decided to give it a try.

It was early autumn when I left with Rocks that Slide’s sacred staff, the Tarahumara drum and a drumstick/rattle. Marjie and the children bid me farewell, saying they would check on me from time to time. I headed for the Spanish Peaks, hoping I would receive some guidance from I AM at that sacred place. Otherwise, I would follow my impulses, searching for experiences that would end my gloomy mood.

It seemed a good omen that the ferry across the Mississippi from Hickman, Kentucky, to Dorena, Missouri, was loading cars just as I arrived. when I reached Missouri a Mississippi Kite with its grey back, white belly and black wing tips flew beside me for several seconds. I thought it might be Didiwahtay’s host and beeped my horn to greet him.

After a while it occurred to me that as Man to Come, I could release Indian spirits from sacred places where they were staying to protect their sanctity. I could tell them they no longer had to protect those places because a pure, clean and holy New Earth had been created where they could reincarnate and live in 397

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harmony with all of nature, and Tanner would show them the way. Otherwise, they were now free to enter the Light of the Creator.

I chanted that message to the spirits, keeping time with the drumstick/rattle as I drove westward. I stopped at places that I thought were sacred, beat the drum and did Tanner’s dance that must be seen again, making the infinity sign with my skipping, twirling steps. I followed Missouri 76 through glorious vistas of the heavily forested Ozark Mountains and wished Marjie were enjoying them with me. At an overlook near Indian Creek, Didiwahtay, within a buzzard, hovered near me. A short while later, I saw several Red Tailed Hawks at various locations. One was calmly flying beside two crows that would normally attack it. Their unnatural behavior caused me to think Indian spirits might have entered them and were showing that they had heard the peaceful theme of my chanting.

Everyone I spoke to that day was very cordial; I enjoyed an inexpensive and remarkably good buffet in Carthage, Missouri.

No motels were handy on the sparsely populated Kansas prairie when I was ready to sleep, so I parked on a farm road beside a cornfield and used the back seat of my Ford Taurus for a bed. I thanked I AM for all the blessings I had received and prayed that all the kind people I had met would be blessed. The cold north wind rocked the car and rustled loudly in the dry cornstalks, waking me after a few hours. It was pitch black as I drove down the deserted highway; I was glad that I managed to drive over a skunk without hitting it.

At dawn I reached the Colorado border and when there was enough light to see well, I parked at a turnout in the Comanche National Grasslands. Although there are very few trees on the prairie, a number of raptors and several magpies flew by as I attempted to sleep. When I resumed driving one, a few minutes later another, and finally a third grey hawk flew directly toward my car before turning away an instant before crashing into it.

My mood improved when I saw the distant Rockies, but black clouds piling up west of them suggested it would be snowing on 398

their higher elevations. I had driven 1000 miles when I was a little east of Trinidad, where I had lived for several years long ago. I wondered why I had not seen any prong-horned antelopes and wished that I would. A few seconds later I spotted five of them standing in a deep ravine. If I had not looked that way in the split second they were visible, I wouldn’t have seen them.

It was cold, windy and raining at Trinidad. Snow and a low of twenty degrees were predicted, making an attempt to climb Apishapa Pass to the West Spanish Peak foolish. Even if I could make it I wouldn’t enjoy dancing with my spirit brothers in such weather. I bought a few supplies, called Marjie to say hello and tell her where I was, and decided to continue west on U. S. 160. As if approving my decision, Metatron’s touch was very strong as I headed for La Veta Pass and the San Luis Valley beyond the Sangre de Cristos Range. Snow flurries greeted me on the east side of the pass but stopped when I topped it. I caught occasional glimpses of snow-capped peaks through openings in the clouds as I drove beside a rushing creek lined with large boulders. There was a lump in my throat due to a mixture of longing and happiness as I shouted, “Home!”

A few minutes later westerly winds blew the clouds away from 14,345 foot Mount Blanca, which is the eighth highest peak in the contiguous United States. To the west of it lay the San Luis Valley, locally known as Flying Saucer Alley, stretched to the horizon. A strong north wind pushed so much sand, tumble weeds and trash across the highway I was forced to drive at walking speed while hoping my car’s paint wasn’t being ruined. I was very happy to emerge from the sandstorm about ten miles down the road with paint intact.

It was nearly dusk when I arrived at the San Juan National Forest close to the Southern Ute Reservation. I looked for a place in the campground to spend the night and found a good spot under some evergreens at the edge of an isolated meadow. I knew that many centuries ago, young Tanner had visited this quiet, peaceful place. When it was dark, I greeted millions of stars in the clear, moonless sky. I beat the drum and danced in their light for a long 399

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time, singing my song of freedom to the spirits who had been waiting for Man to Come.

Although I wore doubled clothing inside my sleeping bag on the roomy back seat of the Taurus, the frigid temperature kept me awake for most of the night. At daybreak, I was on the road again, enjoying mountainous scenery. After a few hours, I entered Mesa Verde’ National Park, where I stopped to watch a flock of wild turkeys foraging in the brush. At 9000 feet, Point Overlook provided an expansive view of the broad valley below. Feeling at home, I happily beat the drum and chanted words of release to the guardian spirits of the Mesa and the surrounding lowlands.

I parked in a deserted turnout near the head of a canyon that contained cliff and surface dwellings on both sides. I walked on bare sandstone to its edge and took off my shirt. With my torso bared and my arms spread like wings, I became Gold Eagle and did the dance that must be seen again. My spirit flew above the canyon as I wheeled and turned and sang my freedom song to the spirits.

The sun’s warm rays on my skin and the pungent odor of pinion pines saturated my senses.

Tanner’s spirit joined me as I drove to the Sun Temple. I shook the rattle in time with each step I took on paths he once walked. I sat on the stone edge of the canyon, seeing several ruins under overhangs on the opposite cliff. I shook the rattle, entered a meditative state, and asked I AM to lead me to an experience that would give me peace of mind.

My mind’s eye was filled with scenes from a lifetime when Tanner and I lived here. Our band was one of several living on or near the mesa. Like an extended family, we treated every child as if he or she were our own offspring and freely shared whatever we had with each other. We worshiped in the kivas and through seeking contact with the Great Mystery together, became ever closer.

Tanner was our band’s holy man, revered by all for his wisdom and spiritual purity, and no one loved him more than I. In accord with his guidance and the collective wisdom of the band elders, I provided practical leadership. His death from natural causes left 400

me feeling lost for months, for I thought no one else could ever wear his moccasins.

When my mind returned to the here and now I understood that I had subconsciously returned to Mesa Verde’ in order to finish grieving over losing Tanner and the love shared within our band. I sobbed for a long time until I felt at peace. To any kindred spirits who listened, I said, “This is the last time I will come to this place.

There is no need to return.”

Upon leaving Mesa Verde’ I decided to say goodbye to other places Tanner had visited in life. At Tanner Mesa, I hiked to his circle of stones and attempted to climb the steep slope of loose and crumbling rocks to the place he had once lived with his sister, unsuccessfully looking for a relic of his existence. I replaced some of the rocks that had fallen from his sacred circle and made a small fire at its center with sweet grass, sage, and cedar leaves, smudging in honor of Tanner and any other attentive spirits. As Man to Come, I beat my drum and sang about the happy choices available to lingering spirits.

I arrived at Aztec after dark and searched for a private, quiet place to spend the night. A short distance from town I found a parking area atop a mesa that offered a lovely view of Aztec and the surrounding valley. I thanked I AM for this beautiful place where the sounds of nature lulled me to sleep.

In the morning I entered the ruins as soon as they were opened.

I admired the patience and skill required to build dry stone walls that have stood for centuries and remembered helping Tanner and others to construct them. I suddenly understood why houses and buildings of stone have always appealed to me. Our people had experienced many uplifting events within the shelter of those sacred walls until white man’s deadly disease forced us to flee. I suddenly realized why, at age 33 in this lifetime, I had fallen deeply in love with Janet, whose black hair, almond shaped eyes, prominent cheekbones, and sensual lips resembled my cherished Aztec wife, who died of that terrible disease. My grief over her death had lingered into this lifetime just as my grief over Tanner’s death had. My duties as husband and father had caused me to end 401

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my relationship with Janet, which had given me another reason to grieve. I was similarly attracted to Terresa, who had a lot of Cherokee blood. Her love of nature and innate ability to comfort others caused me to think of her as Earth Mother. I had cause to grieve again when she died at age 44 after a two year battle with breast cancer. Dorothy, my first wife, also loved nature, but did not resemble an Indian at all. I wonder if that was why I did not find her as attractive. Continuing my tour of the ruins, I felt another pang of loss when I stopped where groups of women used to happily grind sacred corn into meal.

As holy man of our village, Tanner had rituals to perform, prayers to say, and words of wisdom to share when questions about the proper action to take and how to resolve conflicts arose.

His decision to pursue a spiritually pure life did not include marriage, but his devoted sister also remained single and did the womanly tasks required in their home. I thanked her spirit for being so loyal to him as I stood before the chamber they had shared.

Before leaving Aztec for Chaco Wash, I again did the dance, shook my rattle, and sang the words that would release the spirits who lingered there. I noted with relief that each new bout of grief had been less intense than the one at Mesa Verde’. I said goodbye to Aztec Ruins and headed south for Chaco Culture National Monument.

I recalled that although Marjie bore no resemblance to an Indian, her maternal grandmother was Apache’. In several of Marjie’s lifetimes, she was an Indian. Perhaps we were chosen to work with Indian spirits because we were spiritually prepared to receive them. Although gentle in her ways and overly sensitive to criticism, Marjie was capable of dogged determination when it was required to reach a particular goal. She endured multiple physical hardships with patience and good humor and would have been a valued member of any band of ancient Indians.

I didn’t stop at the Chaco monument site but headed straight for the mesa where Tanner had previously guided us. Shaking my rattle as I began hiking along the familiar trail to the top, I passed 402

by a jackrabbit that watched me from under a tumble weed.

Numerous large ravines divided the mesa’s cliff edge into finger-like peninsulas of stone that were dotted with brush and ancient pinyon pines along with desiccated branches, loose rocks and pieces of petrified wood. I scanned nooks and crannies in the bedrock for rattlers and found none.

I sat where Tanner and I had conversed on our previous visit and remembered that Amy had found the small but immensely powerful stone container. It dawned on me that Tanner had tried to mend the rift between me and Amy by guiding her to find the tepee stone and the container.

I pictured in my mind’s eye what Tanner had seen when Chaco Wash was a natural reservoir whose banks supported plentiful wildlife and fields of corn, beans and squash, the opposite of the current desolate view. The place where I stood was totally private; my legs tingled with spiritual energy, so I stripped to my birthday suit and did the dance that must be seen again while chanting the freedom song to lingering spirits. Tiring, I lay face up on the flat top of a big boulder to absorb the warm, healing rays of the sun and relaxed in the complete absence of man made noise. A few minutes later I heard a car pass by on the road that passed near my parking spot and decided it was time to go. I had not grieved at all.

I enjoyed the fragrance of the sage, sweet grass, and cedar lying on the dashboard. I had driven about halfway back to the main highway when I spotted a red tailed hawk eating a snake on top of a utility pole. I thought of Utayoee, Tanner’s beloved eagle, who killed rattlesnakes and threw their heads to him, providing fangs for his rituals. I could not ignore this synchronicity, so I got out of the car, shook my rattle and thanked the hawk for sharing its beauty with me. The hawk only glanced at me and continued eating.

As I continued on my way a large black buzzard flying toward me did a complete barrel roll, a maneuver none of the hundreds of buzzards I had seen in the past had duplicated. Feeling certain Didi was responsible, I blew my horn and shouted, “Hello, Didiwahtay!

I love you, too!”

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Upon reaching the Rockies I took a secondary road through the mountains to enjoy unfamiliar scenery. It led me to Horseshoe Spring, where a couple of Native American workers were filling a container from a filtered spigot. I was out of fresh water and thanked them and I AM for providing me with cold, sweet water.

At lunchtime I looked for a good place to eat and followed an old logging road to a clearing under the trees. I ate while sitting on a weathered, gray log and took a short hike before heading out. At the top of a pass, I parked to admire the clear blue sky above a the shining blanket of new snow decorating the ground and the limbs of evergreens. I replaced the nearly melted ice in my cooler with scoops of snow. Near the bottom of the pass, I stopped to video a half dozen wild turkeys calmly walking through a roadside forest of huge ponderosa pines.

The glorious weather continued all the way to the Tsankawi Ruins, where I hiked directly to Tanner/Mishaka’s cave, shaking my rattle and chanting my song of freedom to any lingering spirits.

Inside his cave, I tearfully said to Mishaka’s spirit, “I love you very much and I would like your advice. I’ve been having trouble finding joy in my life. I know it’s a wrong way to live. I am looking for a challenge that will engage my interest and lead to the happiness that comes from success. Maybe you can suggest something.” I also asked I AM for guidance.

My tears quenched, I studied the interior of Tanner’s former home more closely than ever before and noticed a small white hole about eight inches deep carved into the blackened ceiling. A pair of narrow white lines radiated from it to the carved image of a prostate man below it. I thought, The hole represents the corridor through which Mishaka traveled, perhaps when asleep.

When I exited the cave Didiwahtay flew by in the body of a raven. I greeted him and thanked him for coming to visit. Feeling much better, I jogged up the trail, jumped over obstacles, and when possible, Man to Come did the dance that must be seen again and sang the song of freedom to the spirits in other caves. I was glad no other tourists were around to wonder what this crazy man was doing.

When I felt my work was done I jogged back to the car, thinking of 404

the love I had for the Tarahumaras, who ran everywhere.

Mother’s touch to my brain was very strong as I drove eastward toward Espaniola and I suddenly knew beyond a doubt that Man to Come’s chanting, dancing, drum beating and rattling had truly released many spirits who had been attached to the sacred places I had visited. Humbled and grateful for this honor, I I felt I AM’s powerful touch on the crown of my head and Sarah joined in with her own energies. It had seemed a merely impulsive to bring the drum and rattle on my journey, but I now realized my prayer to have a significant mission had been granted. Tanner had known what I would eventually do when he said I was Man to Come. It seemed certain that he and I would meet face to face at some future time and place, perhaps on the New Earth.

A celebratory meal was in order. I had to laugh when the first restaurant I came to was the Rio Grande Café, its sign advertising the authentic Mexican food I craved. An unexpected side dish of green chilies covered in melted cheese complimented the delicious combination plate I ordered. While eating I thought, I have done what Tanner wanted me to do and what I needed to do for our people. I have found a measure of joy already, but if I go back home so quickly, my loved ones may correctly think I have not done enough searching. Why not release the spirits of Chief Joseph’s people, who also mourn for what they have lost? I have wanted to see his Wallowa valley for a long time. Perhaps I have work to do there, too!

That night I was driving on a winding, empty two lane highway and had just negotiated a hilltop curve when I saw four does standing in the middle of the road. I stood on the brakes, praying that I wouldn’t plow into them and stopped a few feet away from the nearest one. As if nothing life threatening had just happened, the group kept calmly strolling across the road. Thankful to have avoided a serious accident in the middle of nowhere, I drove on. A second later I saw the buck whose harem I had just missed standing behind the passenger side fence. If he had followed them I would have certainly hit him. I said another grateful prayer.

After paying for some very expensive gasoline in Durango. I pulled off onto a turnout north of town and slept until the cold 405

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woke me a few hours later. I continued to Cortez, where I turned west to enter Utah. The bright white light of a UFO appeared before me for a short time.

The beautiful cliffs of vivid red sandstone that appeared after entering Utah were soon replaced by brown, smoggy air that got steadily worse as I neared Salt Lake City, where thick, disgusting smog obscured the tall buildings. The bumper to bumper traffic going 85 mph through the heart of Salt Lake City was scary.-

Whenever I tried to maintain a safe distance from the car in front of me someone would fill the gap. I thought commuters were nuts.

The foul air persisted to Brigham Young City, a hundred miles north of Provo. What a shame.

I thought the vast, boring wheat fields and otherwise barren country of southern Idaho was a perfect setting for freezing to death if caught in a blizzard. Much of the prairie near Twin Falls was covered with extensive deposits of lava that had flowed toward the Snake River canyon eons ago. I was about twenty miles outside of Boise when I entered a dense cloud of fog-like smog that continued for many miles beyond the state capital. Around 8:00

p.m., at Ontario, Oregon, I was engulfed by the reeking, dense fog created by the Ore-Ida Potato Company. The thick brown haze seriously compromised visibility. Bright lights inside a giant warehouse illuminated millions of potatoes.

Fortunately, the smog had completely cleared by the time I arrived in tiny Elgin, where I treated myself to a shower and a real bed in a rustic motel. In spite of the creature comforts, I did not sleep well, eager to press on to the Wallowa Valley.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for exploring Chief Joseph’s homeland. A ten mile drive took me to the clear and swift Wallowa River. I parked beside it at the first opportunity and happily sang, danced and shook my rattle to release its guardian spirits before heading for the small town of Wallowa. I was on its outskirts when I spotted a for sale sign on five partially wooded acres next to the river. I entered the driveway, noting the view of distant mountains. Two rundown house trailers and the junk scattered in the yard suggested it might be affordable. I pulled up 406

to one of the trailers and a thirtyish woman opened the door. I said hello and explained that I was interested in the property. She said they didn’t really want to sell but her husband, a logger, didn’t have enough work to keep up the payments. She was worried about the effect a move would have on her little children. She asked some questions about my background, and upon hearing that I was a clinical psychologist, burst into tears. After regaining her composure, she apologized, explaining that I was an answer to her prayers that God would provide a counselor she could talk to. She was afraid she was losing her mind.

I had also been praying for an opportunity to help someone and silently thanked I AM as I invited her to tell me her story. We sat side by side on a board supported by two tree stumps. The prospect of losing their home and the lack of employment opportunities had caused her to have upsetting flashbacks to episodes of severe rejection in childhood and strong feelings of worthlessness. She was adopted very soon after birth by a stern couple who taught her to believe she was a throwaway baby who deserved their constant criticism and should be eternally grateful for being adopted in spite of being half Indian. Although she tried her best to be worthy, she never received any affection.

She agreed to the use of techniques that could sometimes eliminate psychological traumas very quickly and allowed me to induce a hypnotic trance. I asked I AM to provide her with the experience that would be most helpful to her at that moment, and to our mutual delight, was greeted by her guardian angel, who enabled her to accept that God truly loved her just as she was.

When she emerged from the trance she was amazed by the disappearance of her low self-esteem and was stunned when I refused to charge her, explaining that the opportunity to help her and the success we achieved was payment enough. As I drove away, I prayed this family would be able to stay in their little piece of heaven.

I stopped at a convenience store in Wallowa looking for something to eat and was blessed with a huge pastrami and Swiss cheese sandwich, a dill pickle, and two large cookies for less than 407

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four dollars! I was impressed by how well the staff and other customers treated each other and me. I ate at a picnic table beside the river, admiring the huge, granite topped, heavily timbered mountains in the east and the much lower, grass covered mountains sprinkled with evergreens to the west. As the little river noisily gurgled over its stony bed, I decided this was the perfect setting for a home. It was no wonder that the Nez Perce’ did not want to give it to invading white strangers who would kill for it. I ate my fill and had enough left over for supper.

I drove through beautiful Joseph, Oregon and from there headed for Wallowa Lake State Park. On the way, there a roadside marker indicated that Chief Joseph’s father, who was also named Joseph by the first white missionaries, was buried on a nearby hill. The tall monument stood in an open area bordered by evergreens that provided a view of magnificent Chief Joseph Mountain. I paid homage to Old Chief Joseph and to any lingering spirits in the usual way before sitting down to meditate and wonder what more I could do for the Nez Perce’.

No brilliant ideas emerged as I drove along the shore of scenic Wallowa Lake in the State Park of the same name. Groups of nonchalant mule deer and elk grazed like domesticated animals on the commons around rental cabins. I would certainly enjoy spending vacation time here. I headed back to the town of Wallowa and the small motel that was for sale there. A large teepee in its front yard had drawn my attention when I first saw it. The very friendly couple who owned it gave me a tour of the one story building and their living quarters showed me the books to prove it was profitable and their asking price was also reasonable.

I thought this place might be what I was looking for. It could provide us with an income if we decided to relocate. I was eager to discuss moving to the Wallowa valley with Marjie and headed for home, taking advantage of the remaining daylight.

A few hours later I was driving through the heavily forested canyon containing the swift Clearwater River in Idaho. I got sleepy after dark and pulled into a good sized turnout beside the river.

Bright moonlight turned the plentiful boulders in and around the 408

stream ghostly white and the foaming rapids to silver. My heart swelled with love for the solitude and beauty of raw nature; once more I sang and danced to release guardian spirits from their long vigil. Revived, I decided to keep driving.

Around midnight I was several miles south of Cheyenne when I was truly sleepy and looked for a good place to spend the night. I followed a ranch road for about a mile into the foothills skirting I-25 and parked beside an isolated corral, thinking it would be quiet, but even though they looked like toys. I could clearly hear the 18

wheelers accelerating and decelerating on the interstate. The harsh wind moaned, the coyotes wailed, and the cows occasionally bellowed. After several bouts of interrupted sleep, I gave up and headed south.

It was still dark when I arrived in Denver’s urban sprawl that began near Boulder. Driving at 70 mph on practically empty I-25, it took several hours before I left it behind. Development had completely changed the appearance of this part of Colorado since my last visit there; I wondered where all the water needed to support it was coming from.

When I reached Trinidad, where I had lived for a few years a quarter of a century earlier, I realized that my journey through the mountains had roughly formed a figure eight. I chose a route home that would largely avoid I-40 and continued to sing Man to Come ’s song of release while driving through lonely prairies, over the Ozarks and into the delta of the Big Muddy. I crossed the Mississippi west of Dyersburg and arrived at home without feeling unduly tired.

Marjie and my channeling family were very happy to see me and eager to hear all about my adventure. Through previous phone calls, Marjie knew I was excited about the possibility of moving to Oregon and agreed it would be fun to thoroughly explore the Wallowa valley together. When she heard about my efforts to free Native American spirits she said, “The number I’m hearing is 54,000.”

As soon as it was practical we flew to Boise, arriving early enough to rent a car and drive to Wallowa, where we spent the 409

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remaining daylight looking at homes for sale and noting any that appealed. Spending the night at the motel I had thought of buying convinced us it was not a good idea. There was too much truck traffic right outside the door. We continued to look for properties the next day but didn’t find anything very desirable until signs directed us to a picturesque cabin in the foothills near Wallowa Lake.

The owner, Duncan Lagoe, arrived right behind us. After introductions, he said the For Sale sign should have been removed because they had decided to take it off the market until spring to avoid moving during the winter. I explained that our house would also have to be sold, so waiting until spring was fine with us.

Duncan invited us inside, introduced us to his wife, Mim, and they gave us the tour. We liked them and their rustic home very much.

The front door faced awesome Chief Joseph Mountain, while its back deck overlooked the broad Wallowa River valley and the small town of Joseph, several miles away. The small acreage included a large vegetable garden and several tall pines. Duncan said the nearest neighbors, whose houses were located a comfortable distance away, were friendly and they helped each other out when necessary.

After the tour we sat in the living room for conversation. I told them about my interest in Chief Joseph, the Nez Perce’ tribe, and my desire to meet some of them and to perhaps find a way to be of service. Duncan and Mim said they were friends with many Nez Perce’ and were active members of an organization that bought Wallowa Valley land which was now used by the tribe for ceremonial and recreational purposes. Duncan was taking Nez Perce’ language lessons from Horace Axtel, tribal chairman of the Nez Perce’ Indian Reservation, and was a close friend of Soi Red Thunder, a direct descendant of Chief Joseph and a prominent elder of the non-reservation Nez Perce’! Duncan and Mim were spiritually minded people, so I shared my belief that I was Chief Joseph in another lifetime and about my efforts to release Native American spirits from the places they were trying to protect. I mentioned visiting Old Chief Joseph’s monument and doing my 410

ceremony there. In a jaw dropping reply, Duncan said, “Axtel told me just the other day that he thinks it is time for his people to let Chief Joseph go. He said the Nez Perce’ have held onto him as if he was the beginning and the ending of their people and that he deserves to be set free so he could stop worrying about the welfare of the tribe.”

Historically, the Nez Perce’ were divided into two groups, those who signed the treaty giving the Wallowa Valley to the invaders and those who refused. While the mutual resentment of the two factions had faded over the years, the leaders of the two groups had minimal contact with each other until Duncan had arranged meetings between Axtel and Soi Red Thunder, leading to friendly mingling between the two groups at events held on the homeland grounds. Mim had seen no evidence of lingering resentment at all.

Duncan and Mim were quite interested in the entities Marjie channeled, which led to sessions for healing and inner exploration that we all enjoyed. Had we not lived so far apart, we would have spent much more time with them.

It was impossible to believe our meeting the Lagoes had occurred by chance. The For Sale sign had to still be in place; we had to be attracted to their home; the owners had to be there; Duncan had to invite us in even though the house was not for sale; I had to share our reasons for being in the Wallowa valley; they had to believe in the existence of disembodied spirits, and so on.

Meeting the Lagoes was not the only experience that made the idea of moving to the Wallowa Valley appealing. While driving through the Grande Ronde River valley one night, our rented car’s lights had dramatically dimmed. I worried that the car might have electronic defects and that we might wind up stranded many miles from help if it got worse, but Nuke said the powerful spiritual energy at that particular “hot spot” was the cause, and now that it had been found, many other ETs would come to visit. Small areas of “fog” were present in several of the pictures I had taken in and around the cabin which were not visible to the naked eye. I think they were disembodied spirits.

So many “coincidences” had occurred while we explored the 411

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Wallowa Valley that we made an offer to buy their home, contingent upon the sale of our own and we returned home. The move never took place because our house had not been sold when the Lagoes received a definite offer on their home and we released them from our agreement.

I had clearly been mistaken about having a mission among the Nez Perce' due to my misinterpretation of the “signs”. Troubled by this misunderstanding, I sought Alta Sha’s counsel. “I thought I was supposed to go to Joseph’s homeland to help his people.”

“You already did that. You released many spirits of the dead.”

“I thought I was also to work with the living, too.”

“And so you did.”

That was also true, for we had shared healing energies with the Lagoes, who were deeply involved with the Nez Perce’. It had not been necessary to move there in order to complete that “mission.”

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Chapter Twenty-nine:

Dreams Of Korima

Marjie and I had been told we would move to another location southwest of our current home. I wanted to have a home near the Rockies, and hoped this prediction meant we would succeed. I had been waiting for that imagined home to manifest when Marjie discovered one only an hour and a half away. After a dental appointment in Ripley, Tennessee, she had followed spiritual guidance to ask a real estate agent to show her what was available in the area and was soon attracted to an 82 acre farm including a large barn and a small farm house. The house was not half as big as our home, but Marjie said it was what she had always wanted. We quickly obtained a bridge loan that allowed us to move in while waiting for our house to sell and would obtain a regular mortgage when it did. Meanwhile, we would pay the interest on our loan at 6 month intervals. The house needed work before we could move in. I replaced the bathroom floor, patched a significant leak in the roof, and doubled the attic insulation. I eventually put new siding on the exterior walls of the house and painted it.

We expected to receive millions of dollars owed to us because of prior investments that were under litigation that would allow us to develop the farm into a center for spiritual growth. We created a Corporation Sole and named it Korima, the Tarahumara word for sharing.

The house and barn were adjacent to two sparsely traveled roads that intersected at its southeastern corner. Fifty acres were cultivated; the remainder was scattered woods bordering the creeks and gullies that ran through it. There was pasture for the horses, a small outbuilding perfect for housing our tractor and lawn mower, and a small shed that we converted into a chicken 413

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coop. We rehabilitated old fences and put up new ones around the pastures, and created a pond with a small island in its center. A strong October rain filled it in one day. Nuke declared he had never seen a prettier pond and it soon became his favorite place to relax.

We had ducks, fish, turtles, snakes and water plants and he and I often went fishing. Marjie and I created flower beds around the house and a little water garden with a flowing fountain surrounded by all sorts of flowers. We also cultivated a good sized vegetable garden close to the house. The flowers, the newly painted house and barn, the pond and the water garden made it very attractive.

Nuke and I cleared paths through the wooded areas and selected a spot where we planned to build a cabin all his own. Perithnea said faeries liked to play in a small tree beside the house and in a little glade where ferns and moss grew on the bank of a ravine. Nuke said there were hot spots of spiritual energy all around our yard, and Adam said many Indians had once lived there beside a very large lake white men had drained. One of our psychic visitors saw the spirit of an Indian man on an adjacent farm.

With encouragement from Alta Sha, we planned to convert the land to sustainable production and to create a spiritual retreat where workshops and conferences could be held. I planned to invite Indian elders to give talks to interested groups about communing with Spirit and treating Mother Earth with respect.

In addition to a moderately sized meeting center where Marjie and I would live, temporary and permanent housing would be available. We intended to use hay bales as the primary building material due to its low cost and high insulation value. Within several days after making that decision, a black farmer appeared who wanted to cultivate the land on shares and was happy to grow wheat and to bale the straw and to stack it in our barn. We liked the farmer and his son very much; Nuke and Marjie enjoyed watching them operate their equipment. Once more, the help we needed had been provided without any effort on our part. Another new friend was a teenage boy living a quarter mile down the road who gave us ducks for our pond and often dropped by to visit.

I was planting the last fence post for an expanded horse pasture 414

when I heard the constantly shrieking cry of a red tailed hawk. It was about sixty feet high and flying directly toward me when it folded its wings and fell about forty feet before opening its wings to regain altitude, repeating this maneuver several times. I imitated its shrill cry and shouted, “Aho, Didiwahtay! Thank you for coming to see me!” We continued whistling to each other as Didi soared up in a circle and flew over me again. I shouted, “Thank you for your beautiful flight and beautiful song! It fills me with happiness!” He circled me twice more before spiraling away on an updraft.

The following morning Didiwahtay said, “Dada!”

“Is that you, Didiwahtay?”

“Dada! Dada!”

I sat on the sofa and hugged him, projecting my great love. He put his head my shoulder. I stroked his hair, saying, “I am very happy to see you. That was you in the hawk, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful! You controlled it.” He nodded. “You have been flying for a long time.”

He nodded again and said, “Flying is finished.”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

Thinking he might teach through Marjie at Korima, I said, “It’s time for us to begin.”

He nodded. “You open door to new world, close door to old. I will enter Tanner.” He wasn’t referring to the Indian spirit but to Tanner, an already named border collie given to us. Didi was neither unable to change Tanner’s bad habits nor those of a young, rambunctious Labrador Retriever and eventually returned to inhabiting birds. A flock of Guinea birds that strutted around the farm eating insects would sound loud alarms when anything unusual happened. One day, they were hysterically squawking and running for dear life across the pasture when a red tailed Hawk unsuccessfully attempted to grab one before perching on a nearby limb. Before it could launch a second attack, a pair of crows suddenly appeared and chased it away. Nuke said, “Didiwahtay was in one of those crows.” I yelled a thank you to him.

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Marjie and I attended a major pow-wow in Memphis, where we talked to some of our Indian friends who sold handicrafts and participated in dances. We were sitting in the grandstands of the huge auditorium watching the activities when Doug, looking gaunt and miserable, walked by on the walkway below. He had psychically invaded Marjie’s consciousness more than once in the distant past, so we did not say hello. Alta Sha said harmful spirits which Doug had permitted to enter his body were destroying him.

During one of her infrequent visits to the farm, I asked Amy to hold the most significant Newfoundland stone and tell us what impressions she received from it. She entered a trance and said extraterrestrial beings “saw something green that glowed and swirled clockwise, a dreaming stone. I see shapes, diamond shapes.

Things moving in bushes near woods and water, the green.

Absolute presence. Absolute presence. Levels of green, like platters, rising up in degrees, smaller and smaller platters going up in the green. I’m making a trip to Emerald City. It’s associated with the desert in another time. Green, crystalline buildings, shining. I see a walkway to a familiar place. It’s a pathway of glass stone going to a place where you work with different kinds of energy. For some reason, I’m hesitant to go there. When you walk in it feels like there’s no ceiling, but it has one. I see twelve different-sized beings, opalescent gray, some more colorful. They are having a discussion about how to proceed. I put this stone down on a table and it glows green. They say it is a heart and blood purifier. It is ancient, not from here. It has moved several times. Perhaps the man writing (me) would do well to work with it. What is it he would like to know? They are showing me an altar with a bell, a silk cord, a pyramid and a pen for writing. They suggest you make it.

“The sun rises before the altar. I see many suns, like infinite images reflected in mirrors which symbolize where it has been.

When you sit before the stone you sit before great power, healing energy, mastership. If you went to a place of power stones, this one would be the master stone. It is a great one, sacred, most powerful, unique.

“They are showing me a sphere cut in half, with beings in the 416

hollow interior. A friend to this stone is in the possession of inner Earth beings. It can be used to communicate with many different entities in this universe.

“Tie a silk cord of whatever color you like around it with a bow.

This connects you to the stone. Lay it on a mat of freshly cut wheat.

If you hold it, you may not be present in this room. The blue sapphire color that attracts you is a good color to surround yourself with. It will give your thoughts worth.”

I asked, “What is the crystalline mineral embedded in the stone?”

“The crystals are like computer chips.”

“How did it come to be where we found it?”

“Divine intervention. How do you wish to receive messages?”

“In words and images.”

“So be it. Hold it next to you as she is doing. It will not always be with you. It can work anywhere. It is unlimited.”

Amy emerged from the trance. “I was alone with the twelve beings and saw the stone glow green and then open up until it was vast. I focused on one spot and went through a wormhole to an ancient place with living dinosaurs. It was so stimulating there I was afraid I would be unable to come back, so I left. When I was coming back I heard one of the twelve jokingly say, You can make money with it. I know that this stone did not come from Earth originally. It has traveled through many dimensions and has gathered information in every one of them.”

I followed the steps the beings had described in order to experience the altered states of consciousness the stone was said to induce. I positioned a small desk where it would catch the morning sunlight and placed a small, turquoise-colored pyramid I had made at its top along with a little glass bell, a candle, a piece of petrified wood from Tanner’s Chaco Wash mesa, a quartz crystal and a picture of the Spanish Peaks. I tied a multicolored silk ribbon around the stone and placed it on a bed of freshly cut wheat in the center of the altar. For several weeks, I meditated daily at the altar and occasionally slept with the stone next to my body, seeking images or telepathic messages from it, but did not consciously 417

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receive anything unusual at all, which was very disappointing. I have shown it to a handful of psychics and each of them has been very impressed with its power. Most of them said it did not originate on Earth and contains information about the extraterrestrial civilizations which have possessed it. One said it showed her an entire planet imploding and disappearing as if swallowed by a black hole. Another said it recorded the collapse of a civilization on Mars that occurred about 75,000 years ago. In her mind’s eye, she saw it surrounded by a blue glow while sitting in a tube at eye level showing what can be lost when civilizations fail to reach their spiritual potential.

After she meditated with it for twenty minutes, one psychic’s extraterrestrial guide told her it could be used as a means of teleportation, which is why it is shaped so that a hand can be comfortably placed on its top. While doing that, she was shown a city dear to her own guide where the buildings resembled the giant termite towers of Africa. She said she would not place it near the crystals and stones on her own altar because its power would overwhelm their energies.

A psychic who kept it for two months said that in ancient times it was used by extraterrestrial beings in sacred rituals as the focal point for the powerful spiritual energies they invoked from the universe. She said the energies entering it were divided into three differently colored streams that she couldn’t fully describe. She said the ETs had used it to contact civilizations on other worlds. It had also helped initiates in ancient Egypt learn how to project their inner Light in order to find a safe path out of a pitch dark chamber filled with poisonous snakes. My insensitivity to the power psychics found so impressive was very frustrating, but I hoped that it would be a centerpiece for Korima.

Because of Alta Sha’s encouragements, Marjie and I anticipated that the investment we had made was finally going to pay off.

Those funds would allow us to purchase 60 acres that bordered our land. The property was hilly and had a few stands of old and young trees along its fence lines, creeks and areas not suited for cultivation. Marjie and I drove down its rutted access road one fine 418

day and parked in the shade of a huge oak next to a creek. We walked across the creek and headed for a tall hill populated by a few large trees near the middle of the surrounding fields of soybeans. From there, we had a panoramic view of the land and agreed it would be a great location for a new home. I watched as Marjie picked up a stick and used it to dig beside a big oak. Adam had said that the land around here held many artifacts and she hoped to find one. I also dug for a while but we didn’t find any.

Marjie collected a few small feathers and a little red rock.

We hiked through soybeans to reach a tree lined, falling down fence line where the silted dirt was very soft. Marjie stared intently at the ground and slowed to a snail’s pace, saying, “Sorry. I’m not walking this slow on purpose. Spirit is controlling me. I’m not even paying attention to where I’m going.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Do whatever Spirit wants you to do.” After a few minutes passed without finding what Spirit had looked for, we picked up the pace and followed the fence across another ditch, continuing until we reached the largest oak on the property. It was about 8 feet in diameter at its base and at least a hundred feet tall. I said, “That’s the grandmother of them all.”

Marjie began to weep, saying, “I keep hearing one word: Home, home, home! Tanner says this is a good place to rest.”

“Did he ever live here?”

Though still crying and weeping, she answered, “I don’t know about that, but I know it’s home. I’m sorry for crying. I’m not sad, it’s just the only way I can release my emotions. That tree is buzzing with energy and I’m being zapped by it like discharges of static electricity. I can’t stay this close to it, but Tanner’s going to sit under it for a while.” Marjie regained her composure as we walked through soybeans toward our shared property line. I said, “If this feels so much like home to you, maybe we should build our new house here.”

She asked, “Where is our property line?” I pointed to it. “Every time we drive by this place I feel drawn to this land. That settles it for me. We need this place.” Near the property line she added,

“That’s far enough. Tanner is coming through very strongly. I keep 419

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hearing home, home. If we had this land too, that’s all we would need.”

“I agree. Let’s go back to the car.” I headed in that direction but stopped when she didn’t follow, I asked, “What’s up?”

Tanner said, “Man to Come!”

I said, “Aho, Tanner! It’s good to see you again.” With my hands in a prayerful position I bowed to him before stepping closer.

He said, “You receive a new name today: Man to Come Home. ”

“I will do all I can to make it so.” Our eyes locked affectionately and Indian style, we grasped each other’s forearms. I asked, “Was this your home at one time?”

“It is home to all my brothers. It is strong land, powerful warrior land.”

“Yes, it is fertile and beautiful. When we own it, we will build a house here and will invite the brothers to visit.” I pointed at a pair of buzzards circling above us. “It seems some of them are still here.”

Smiling, he nodded, pointed at his temple and said, “This smart land. Coyote clever land. Make land prosper.”

He withdrew; Marjie began to weep. I gave her a comforting hug, and she said, “He’s back! I thought he was gone forever! I have missed him so much! I don’t feel bad, just relieved. I love him so much.”

My eyes also filled. “I know how you feel. When I remembered we had lived together at Mesa Verde’, I felt this overwhelming love for him.”

When calmed, we headed for the truck. We had nearly reached it when Marjie started crying again, pointing at two snow white fungi the size of dinner plates growing from a fallen limb beside another great oak. I said, “I don’t understand why we didn’t see them before. They’re in plain view.”

She said, “What’s so strange is I was reading The Encyclopedia of Mushrooms just before we came over here and I was hoping to find some. Please, let’s go now. I can’t take any more of this. It’s too strong!”

Weeks later the expected funds for Korima had still not appeared, and I mentioned my worries to Alta Sha. He replied, 420

“Relax. Let go. This is easy. I AM’s plans are made and you can’t change them by making mistakes. If you meet an obstacle, let go, back off, get centered, and let Breath do His work. All you have to do is go through the open doors Breath has prepared and to enjoy doing what pleases you with the land. All is well. Remember, you are not the Director.” I continued making improvements to the land, the house and the outbuildings.

Not long after I heard those words of encouragement, Warton 4, Chief Engineer at Alliance headquarters, spoke through Marjie, offering me assistance in the construction of Korima headquarters.

Likewise Joshua, our adopted Teglinlin child and Chief Botanist at the Station, offered to advise us in choosing the right crops and livestock needed for sustainable farming. Following my drawings of Korima headquarters, Hope, our hybrid daughter, and Joseph made a model of our new home out of typing paper and scotch tape. Meanwhile, Marjie searched catalogs for furnishings and I explored off the grid energy systems.

As Spirit had predicted, we met an architect from Memphis who was very interested in alternative energy and sustainable farming.

We hiked around the farm discussing where to put buildings and how to use ponds to purify waste water and for irrigation. He took many pictures of the property with a digital camera that allowed him to create a panoramic view from its highest point.

In anticipation of receiving a large sum of money, we opened an investment account with a local broker. Alta Sha had advised us to use a third of the money for construction, a third for crops and livestock, and a third for investment.

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Chapter Thirty: Broken Dreams Unfortunately, Marjie continued to experience physical problems that severely limited her participation in the routine activities of everyday life. A horseback riding accident seriously injured her shoulder. After weeks of unsuccessful physical therapy, corrective surgery was required, followed by more physical therapy. The medical professionals who treated her were impressed with her positive attitude.

When she was nearly back to normal she found a malignant lump in her breast which required a lumpectomy. Fortunately, it was completely encapsulated (thanks to our ET friends) and had not spread to other lymph nodes. As a precaution, she endured multiple debilitating chemo treatments over a period of many weeks. The medical personnel were impressed with her good cheer and positive attitude, as were the other chemo patients present during her treatments.

When the antidepressant medication Marjie had been taking for years lost its effectiveness, she was hospitalized in order to develop a new regimen. Due to a faulty diagnosis, her psychiatrist prescribed medications that made her much worse, prolonging her stay. She was finally placed on medications that worked well enough to allow discharge. Undesirable side effects developed within a few days but our family doctor, who always treated us exceptionally well, prescribed medication that was very effective.

While hospitalized, Marjie had made friends with a few other patients.

On top of everything else, Marjie’s fibromyalgia worsened, seriously limiting her stamina, range of activities, and caused chronic pain. The medication for pain and depression contributed to a state of semi invalidism which would briefly improve during 423

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periods of decreased fibro symptoms.

We learned through hypnosis sessions that Marjie had decided before birth to endure a lifetime of many emotional and physical hardships, through which she would demonstrate an optimistic attitude that would inspire others and would lead to her own spiritual growth. Her ultimate goal was to avoid another lifetime as a human being. Because chronic suffering was an intended feature of her life plan, the ETs were not allowed to cure her fibromyalgia but could occasionally provide temporary relief for her symptoms.

When Nuke channeled Marjie felt no pain and had none of her physical limitations and to relieve her, he often did so for hours at a time. Although I enjoyed his company, it wasn’t a satisfactory substitute for Marjie’s companionship in the outdoor activities essential to my own happiness. Marjie’s dream of providing Equine Therapy to handicapped children was out of the question.

Another significant source of frustration was my inability to find long term employment in an agency that valued professional ethics more than profit. My experience of the Alliance’s dedication to supporting an individual’s well being and occupational choices and my memories of living with Native Americans who loved and shared whatever they had with one another made working under the self-serving administrators I had encountered time and time again in the mental health institutions of Earth hard to swallow.

After three years of only receiving interest payments, the bank insisted that we obtain a regular mortgage, which we couldn’t afford. I had borrowed money to make the most recent interest payment, a practice which could not continue, and no one wanted to buy our house. Aware of our dilemma, Tanner shook his fist in the air and said, “If anyone tries to take this land from us we tell them to go to Hell! They know nothing. We are the wise ones.” I did not imagine that those would be the last words he would speak to me. If only it were that simple.

After five years the funds we expected to receive had still not arrived. Our only option was to sell the farm in order to pay off the bank loan, return to our debt free home, and use my income to pay off the other debts we had.

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The farm was sold and the bank loan was paid off in less than a month. A construction company bought all of the straw bales stockpiled in the barn and the family who were going to move into the house bought our horses and all their tack..

Because all the necessary transactions happened so quickly and easily, we were certain we were following God’s plan, but I did not understand what had gone wrong with Korima. I asked Alta Sha why the predicted funds had not arrived. “You were ready and the farm was ready, but others, who also have free will, would not cooperate.”

Marjie’s fibro got worse. She was rarely able to go shopping, to do routine household chores, to take walks around the property or to sit in the car long enough for rides in the country. In order to get enough rest to perform my job properly, I needed to sleep well, but Marjie’s snoring always woke me up, so I had to sleep in a separate bed. She complained that my absence made her feel abandoned and unloved in spite of my otherwise devoted attention to her needs.

She began to spend many hours in internet conversations with a variety of people. After a couple of years, she insisted on a divorce, informing me that she intended migrate to Egypt and marry a man she met on the internet. I attempted to talk her out of it but she was determined to have her freedom. All that we had done together and all of her promises of undying love and devotion no longer mattered. I resisted her proposed financial settlement until Alta Sha said, “Your marriage is deteriorating, yes?”

“Yes.”

“It is the will of I AM that you set her free.”

“She has always been free, but I assume you mean I should give her what she wants.”

“Yes. Compensate her and file for a divorce.”

I yielded to the will of I AM. We arranged for a no-fault divorce.

Marjie did not have to appear in court when it would be finalized three months later, so she purchased a plane ticket to Egypt right away.

The night before her departure Marjie channeled the children and Nucleus 8 so we could say our goodbyes. We all shed many 425

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tears as they promised to stay close and keep an eye on me.

Didiwahtay said, “Didiwahtay stay here. Fly.”

I swallowed my tears and choked out, “Very good. What kind of bird have you been flying in lately?”

“Crow.”

“I haven’t seen many crows around here. Lots of buzzards.”

“Didiwahtay still here.”

“Good. I will look for crows.”

“Travel with you.”

“Good. That will be nice.”

“Yes. Didiwahtay love you.”

“I love Didiwahtay always.” He has kept his promise.

I was preparing to take Marjie to the airport when Alta Sha nodded a greeting. I tearfully said, “Why did we spend five years on the farm? You said the house I designed for Korima was the work of I AM, that sufficient funds would come to pay for it and even told us how to use them. Now it seems it was all a big waste of time, effort, and money.”

“You touched many lives. You planted many seeds.”

“If I could sell this place, I would give her half the money and find another place to live.”

“She would never ask that of you.”

“I know, but I would want her to have it.”

“The money would be used to do I AM’s work in any case. You need not search for a new home. Your next home will come to you.

There is no need for tears. Your funds have been secure in the arms of I AM for years and still are. I AM will provide. Both of you will receive many blessings in the future. I will stay in communication with your angels to make certain you are alright. I will always be your friend. Even now we fly together. You are very fast. You do not hesitate. You are worthy in the eyes of I AM. Alleluia.”

“Alleluia.” Love shone from his eyes as he smiled and wiped my tears away with Marjie’s fingertips. We we shared a long embrace.

Knowing I might never again hear the beloved voices of my interdimensional family was unbearable but I kept my grief in 426

check long enough to take her to Nashville’s airport. As we waited for the escort who would wheelchair her to the departure gate, Marjie insisted that she still loved me dearly and always would. We hugged as if nothing had gone wrong between us before she was wheel chaired out of sight to the departure gate. I wondered if she understood how much pain her decision had caused.

Almost a year had passed before I spent a week visiting with Marjie and her new husband, Sherif El Gamel. While there I was thrilled to hear some of the voices I had dearly missed. Alta Sha and Nucleus 8 were especially active, but none of the Indian spirits spoke to me. Marjie and I are still close friends and we frequently communicate via the internet. My interdimensional family and I share e-cards on birthdays and holidays, which are also a blessing.

Now, when crows, hawks and buzzards go out of their way to draw my attention and come close, I know Didiwahtay is saying hello. I am very grateful for the frequent touches of Metatron, Mi, Sarah, and I AM which remind me I am not forgotten.

My conversations with Indian spirits and the trips we took on their behalf are among my most treasured memories. Through them, I regained memories of lifetimes as a new world native and was greatly honored to receive their respect and love as we took part in the Creator’s grand plan.

The End.

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About The Author

Rex Patrick Haire, Ph.D. is a retired Clinical Psychologist whose work has always been dedicated to the Creator. His first book, Faeries, Angels, Indians and Aliens, was written at the suggestion of an angelic messenger. It is an account of many amazing spiritual adventures resulting from hypnotic explorations with his wife, Marjorie Ann, a gifted channel through whom beings from other dimensions freely communicated. Other books based on the original include Our Interdimensional Family and Heroic Nucleus 8.

His books are available on Amazon. com and Free-ebooks.net. He lives on ten acres of trees and pastures in rural northwest Tennessee.

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