Experiences during the Ceremonies and Other Stories

In August 2003, I was driving home from work in Big Bear Lake when a red-tailed hawk crashed into my windshield.  I pulled over just as he flew off.  Upset and worried that he was injured, I walked into the woods where he went.  As I walked among the dying trees, I heard his cry and looked up to see him sitting on a branch.  He looked down at me, ruffling his feathers and squawked, as if to say, stupid woman, you know nothing.   For me that was the signal to leave my beloved mountain where I had worked for 10 years.  Even where I lived 30 miles to the North in Lucerne Valley, the joshua trees had begun to die. The death of the trees and lakes, the grieving of the animals and humans was too much.  Today I live on the edge of Lassen Forest - a rich vibrant living forest.  But always, the dying of Big Bear has haunted me.  So, yesterday, when my friend, who was an ambassador at the ceremony told me the Medicine Wheel  story, I wept with joy.   She said that at her spot in Ludlow, at dawn a great wind stirred up and she felt the forces of the ancestors.  After they drummed and chanted and buried the crystals, all was still. The Buddhists call it Shoten Zenjin - the protective forces.  The old ways have called them up on Big Bear Mountain.  I will chant morning and evening to continue the healing.  And I send warm greetings to my sisters and brothers. 

Patty Gomez
December 5, 2004

I didn't know anything about the ceremony when it happened but I do live near the one ceremony at Aliso Beach.

I'm not sure what exact day I went to the library, but it was around the time of the Aliso ceremony.  I didn't know what I wanted to read but through a series of seemingly random searches I came upon a book by Thom Hartmann titled "The End of Ancient Sunlight."  In the book, the author talks about how we are reaching the end of fossil fuel and about the changes necessary to adjust.  These include living in smaller communities with a renewed sacred regard for the Earth.

Since reading that book, I kept having thoughts along those lines.  I kept thinking that even though we believe nature has nothing do with our daily lives, I thought how all our homes were made of trees, our fuel for our homes and cars was compressed plant material, and the office building where I work was basically a fancy dirt mound.  The planet still gives us everything, even in this modern age.  It's just our erroneous perception that somehow man makes it  happen.

Then I saw an article on global warming in National Geographic.  I've followed the global warming story for some time, but the National Geographic was the first mainstream publication that I had seen to show the damage being done at the northern polar region.  And I thought, if people don't see that if polar bears and penguins are starving, and entire forests are dying on the perma-frost, that this massive climate change will hit humans and their food supplies some day soon, they will be very sorry for themselves and their children.

That thought didn't give me much comfort.  But a few days ago this past week I happened to listen to KPFK radio, which I rarely do, and heard Bennie describe the ceremony.  For whatever reason, it all came together in my mind.   I began to think that maybe that whatever forces for good from the ceremony that were unleashed led me to the book and to my own thoughts about the famine and devastation climate change will cause (Bennie paralleled my thoughts on this almost exactly).  I was in despair but Bennie's interview about the ceremony and how he believed it led directly to the magnificent rain and snowstorm made me feel better.

I went to the Web site he gave and I noticed the mention of red-tailed hawks in one of the ceremony descriptions.  A very large red-tailed hawk had landed in the middle of a school field just the other day while I was playing with my dog.  I had never seen these hawks land on such low ground and stay so long.  It was just another strange coincidence.

In any case, that's my story.   I'm glad there's people like Bennie in the world and I hope to figure out my gift that will help realize the healing of the Earth.

Mike
Aliso Viejo, CA
November 25, 2004

I would like to relate my experience of yesterday morning... 
 
I began the day checking email as usual, and felt drawn to look up several websites of facilities near to the Northeastern spoke where I was located on November 15th.  I browsed through information about a local correctional facility (i.e. prison), a factory farm, and Edwards Air Force Base.  At once, I felt somthing rush through me, and I began to sob.  Within moments my sobs had escalated to loud cries. 
 
All I could think of was the small pink stone that I had brought with me from Shadow Mountain.  While I was preparing to leave the medicine wheel site, I felt the stone call to me.  I ignored it at first, thinking, "it'll miss it's home in the desert if I bring it with me."  But it kept drawing me toward it as I walked back and forth packing up my things.  I finally gave in, picked it up, and tied it in the corner of my shawl.  As I did so, I felt strongly that it was holding memories, but wasn't clear beyond that.  When I returned home, I placed the stone on my alter with other sacred objects and thought little more of it.
 
When I began to weep, I knew I needed to hold the stone.  I half ran, half stumbled up the stairs, grasped the stone in my palm and collapsed onto the floor.  The sound coming from me was nothing I have ever imagined could come from my lips.  It was like the sound of an animal being slaughtered, like a woman in labor, like a mother mourning the death of her child.  I could no more stop it than I could stop the waves of the ocean.  After what seemed an eternity, the sound gradually subsided, and I became very still. 
 
I noticed my drum on the floor by my feet, and picked it up.  I began to play and speak: what emerged is the poem that I've included here.  It is a song for Shadow Mountain. 
 
As I returned to my regular state of consciousness, I noticed a clock and realized that it was Monday morning, and that the healing event had occurred just after sunrise one week after the ceremony. 
 
Kate Hedlund
Northwestern Spoke
November 23, 2004