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Think of me as a Clown. In the old days those chosen by the Lightning were thought to be largely useless, driven mad by their association with dark and powerful spirits. They were cared for because they had been "touched," and were holy, even though the things they did and said often made no sense. Heyoka, the Sacred Clowns, are not healers nor prophets. Our powers are unstable, as apt to go wrong as right. But we are entertaining when we tell our stories, and we are great warriors when it is time for that, and the thunderstorms, our patron spirits, will never destroy the place where we live, so we are handy to have around. I have many stories, too many to tell in the remainder of my life. I hope they make you curious about odd things, and make you wonder if some small part of them is true. If for some reason you begin to lie awake in the witching hours when the night is so thick that it presses in against the window glass, and you sense that something is just beyond the wall, about to come through--be assured it's not me. I'm retired. That doesn't mean there's nothing there. The old knowledge opens doors you cannot see. As I write these documents I am aware that to any who reads them it will all seem to be a confusing and poorly organized mess. That's why I've never written a book, something friends have encouraged me to do for years. I'm Indian, and because I do not experience time as a straight line, my stories don't fit a linear form. Time is a spiral, a consistent chaotic pattern that repeats without ever being the same, and I do not experience it from beginning to end. It comes to me a piece at a time and out of order as other human cultures know it. I tell my stories with the same lack of order that brought them to me; this website is my campfire and I will talk about whatever comes to mind. These stories are pieces of a puzzle which is not complete. I accept that I will not know all that is to know; I ponder what is given and I search for more. As you read, you may agree that what at first sounds incoherent and illogical does eventually make sense, and this piece does fit here, and that one there. As more and more pieces link together, the pattern of the beast will emerge. If you read, and follow the tracks that mark the trail I took, you will someday arrive at a place where you see the thing that I see. That's unlikely to give you comfort. |
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Copyright Warning |
All original material on this website is the property of the author and cannot be reproduced in any form without his permission. In certain instances names of persons and places have been omitted or changed in order to protect the privacy of individuals or the sanctity of sacred sites. |
New Material |
New Old Stories on 2/ll/08: In Aliens and UFO's, Perfect Family--It seemed like a nice place to come home to, if maybe you were somebody like Stephen King. In Evidence Room, Old Roads (Iktomo's Highways)--growing up on the Trail of Tears, I always wanted to know what was over the next horizon. What's up on the website as of 2/2/08: In Aliens & UFO's, First Contact—I have some unusual visitors one night and things cease being normal; on the flip side, somebody starts painting stories in the air. Grandfather's Ride in Space—some people say that Antonio Villa Boas was the first abductee; grandpa gave him a run for the money. Black Time—Some say it's missing but I say it's gone and I know where. Seeing Energy—Tips on looking for the impossible. Vril 7—Not everyone I meet at night is a little gray alien. Sighting—Be careful what you ask for; it might come and get you. The Academy—Secret schools and military shamanic training. The Ship—Jumping ahead for a brief look at the Mothership. In Dreams and Visions, Coming of Age—I'm given a clue that will be really important in oh, forty more years. The Golden Temple—Secrets of the universe seem unimportant compared to pretty girls and short unisex tunics. The Crash—When the DNA capsule explodes, the first thing I do is drown. In Evidence Room, The Owl—Joe tells me a story and I find out why I'm not popular at parties. Signs—Putting my mark on the world for no particular reason at all. White Bird—A real Shaman follows anything white. Implants—All I wanted was something physical I could hold in one hand and show people. |
Audience Participation |
In 1991 when I began telling others about the secret side of my own life I expected that everyone would know what I meant. That was foolish. Over the years since then I have met many people who do share some of my experiences, either literally or in that they have seen and experienced similar things. If you have a good story you've been wanting to tell, or you are an abductee with things to say that people generally don't want to hear, or something I've said here brings back an odd memory or two of your own, you are welcome to pass that along to me. I may post them on a public page for now, or begin a forum if there's enough interest. I think that many people don't report all that they know, even to reporting centers, for fear of being completely disregarded. To me, it's all important--even the giant floating penguins that abductees sometimes see. For a starter, you are welcome to complete the survey questionnaire at the bottom of this message. If that's enough to get you going On Beyond Zebra, as Dr. Seuss would say, and you have something more to contribute, please use the contact form at the bottom of the page. |