Quest: The Awakening Chapter 1 Grandfather
Grandfather
Grandfather sat ruminating about the prophecy, and the turbulent days to come. He was hunched in front of a small campfire, his aged body balanced on a cracked and crumbling cinderblock. He had been called and known as Grandfather for so long by everyone in the community, that he at times did not remember his birth name. It had been a European name and not a Hopi name, so he did not mind leaving it behind him. He was feeling an urgency about his part in the prophecy, that things were unfolding very quickly now.
The smoke from his small campfire blew in changing directions with the shifting winds. Grandfather thought there was a lot shifting these days, not just the winds. He closed his eyes to protect them from the smarting effects of the acrid smoke that was, for the moment, blowing his way. When the wind changed again, he opened his eyes and turned his gaze to look over the edge of the mesa.
Below him stretched a flat landscape, muted colors and shadows of the desert extending out to the horizon. The mesa he lived on was close to 100 feet above the desert floor, throwing everything below into a blur. Many centuries his people had lived here. Perhaps they had been here since the beginning of the fourth world. That was what his grandfather had told him when he was a child. He believed this mesa, in fact possibly the spot in which he now rested, was a center point of the world. Where the earth energy started and spiraled out in all directions to all parts of the planet. When he focused, he was able to actually see that energy as it vibrated with life. This life energy was interwoven into everything, and he could see it in every person, rock, or river.
Grandfather gently closed his eyes and focused his awareness inward. He connected with the peace at the center of his being, and then turned his attention to the earth beneath his feet. He could feel the energy vibrating, alive and pulsing, coming up from the earth, into and through his body, then out into the air around him. He sat quietly, his breathing slowing into a steady rhythm. He stayed connected to that life essence energy, and he felt it enter the cells of his body, renewing his own life force.
He brought into his heart his deep desire for peace and balance to return to the earth and her people. He held the feeling of that being so and felt joy swell as the pulsing energy waves seemed to build and become more vital. He held that sense of peace and harmony in his heart center, visioning it as a glowing ball of white light. He extended that light, and watched as it expanded and beat with the beating of his own human heart. His wrinkled, weather-worn face creased as a smile stretched his lips. He felt the light spread like warm honey through his body, easing away tension and his many physical pains. His breathing deepened still, his muscles relaxed. He began to lose his awareness of being a physical being, slowly blurring the edges, melting into the awareness of oneness.
A loud thumping sound began that was not in sync with the beating of his heart or the pulsing of the light and energy. It was faint at first but, growing louder, began to vibrate his body in a way that was uncomfortable and in disharmony. His awareness returned to his body and he shifted his weight, feeling his bones grind and crunch as he moved, some of the cinder block crumbling away beneath him. His eyes opened to see the fire, the flames now lower than they had been, the embers glowing bright orange in the fading daylight.
He heard the thumping, felt it buzzing his body with each beat, and began to hear some human voice shouting along with some unintelligible lyrics. Being a traditional Hopi elder, and the medicine keeper for his people, “modern” music was like the invasion of the whites into their lands all over again. The teens were getting sucked into the images they saw on TV, adopting the culture of the whites more and more with each passing year. Grandfather feared that the Hopi, as a culture, and perhaps even as a people, after so many decades of protecting themselves from such changes, might fade into extinction.
Under the sound of the music he could hear the rumble of the car engine. He turned to the road behind him to see a large 1970s Cadillac coming into view. It had climbed the winding road to the top of the mesa and was slowly stalking its way between the pueblo homes, rattling and vibrating the windows that were in loose frames. He could see several of the reservation teen boys in the car, and the music erupted from the open windows like a volcano belching up lava, soot, and ash. He saw one of the kids eject something from the window of the backseat and heard a rattling clatter as an empty beer can skittered across the dirt road toward him. There was an accompanying belch and laughter from the car.
Grandfather’s shoulders slumped, and the blissful feeling he had been holding in his heart disappeared like a puff of smoke. He sighed, and sadness washed through him, like the fast waters did through the washes during summer monsoons. One of the boys in the car might be his own grandson Eloy. He was so filled with anger these days. He did not have any interest in the old ways and seemed to be almost repelled by them.
Grandfather remembered the day he had tried to talk to him about learning the medicine way, and his grandson had looked him in the eyes and told him that those ways were dead, and that Grandfather was living in the past. Grandfather knew that his Grandson was planning to move away from the Reservation as soon as he was old enough.
Grandfather released his breath with a whoosh, and let the sadness continue to wash through him. He focused for a moment and directed the sad energy to flow out through his feet into the earth. The only way to hold onto hope was to let these feelings move, as feelings need to do. Feel them deeply and in purity, and release them back into the earth. The earth could absorb negative feelings like a sponge and would not be harmed in the process.
He watched as the tail lights of the car winked brightly as the driver touched the brakes before drifting around a corner and out of his sight. The sound of the thumping took longer to fade, but eventually he was able to hear the quiet natural sounds again. He could hear a few crickets (there were fewer and fewer as the days of summer were approaching fall), an occasional dog barking, and the sound of the wind. These were soothing sounds to him, familiar sounds, they were…simple sounds. He could smell juniper and sage brush, creosote and dust. He could feel the weight of his body pressing down on his bones and the block supporting him. He said a quick prayer to the creator for Eloy, as he always did when he thought of him. He asked creator to guide his grandson to an awakening of the spirit, one that would show him that the “old ways” were the only way to the future, the only way back into balance.
Without effort of conscious thought, he turned to look into the fire again, or rather the embers of it. His vision blurred as he drifted into the space between thoughts. He lingered there. His body relaxed and his breathing deepened again. A vision began to unfold on his inner vision. He saw two Caucasian teenagers. He saw a boy, tall, with sandy brown hair and hazel-brown eyes, and a girl about a half a head shorter with thick blonde hair and inquisitive bright green eyes. They were engaged in animated conversation as they studied something that was balanced across their laps. He had the impression they were on a bus or train, due to the bench type seat they were on, the movement of their bodies, as well as scenery flashing by the window beyond them. He saw symbols on the object that was spread out between them. It looked something like parchment but did not appear to be made of paper.
As he looked at the symbols, he was suddenly struck by their familiarity. Some of them were symbols that were also on the sacred tablets for which he was the chosen keeper. The prophecy tablets, as they were known, were ancient, and foretold of the time of the fourth shaking. A time the world was most certainly entering now. He saw further that there was an image of the three Hopi mesas, and that the kids were pointing at the mesa upon which he now sat. They were nodding in agreement about something. He began to hear some of what they were saying.
“What do you think we will find there?” asked the girl, locking eyes with the young man next to her. He looked down again at the object, his long bangs falling over his eyes, making his face difficult to read.
“I’m not sure, he said after a brief pause, but I think possibly we might find the old man we have both been seeing in that dream.”
“Yeah,” she said with a tone of amazement. “That wouldn’t really surprise me after what we have experienced so far.” She paused briefly and then added, “What do you think it all means? I mean, it feels really important to me in a way I can’t explain. It feels like somehow this whole journey we’re taking is far bigger than the two of us. I have a feeling, deep down, that this map we have is critical in some way to…” She trailed off, her eyes tightening as she concentrated, trying to find the words.
“I’m not sure how to express it, either,” said the boy, “but I think I know what you mean. This does feel definitely bigger than the two of us.”
The girl nodded solemnly in agreement.
“I think I will freak out a little bit if we do find the old man on that mesa,” he added, with a sheepish grin.
Grandfather’s vision of them faded, and he heard a new voice, one that resonated with authority and conviction.
“They are coming, the time is now. It is time for the world to remember. You will share the prophecy with them. They will carry it where it needs to go. The time is short. These are the ones that you’ve been waiting for.”
Grandfather’s eyes flew open. He saw stars above him and felt a cool breeze flowing over his skin. He felt a few sharp rocks digging into his back. He was lying on his back on the dusty ground, having fallen backward off of the cinder block. His breathing had quickened, and his heartbeat was drumming a fast rhythm against his ribs. He could feel adrenaline speeding the blood through his veins, making his head pulse with each heartbeat.
“Is this really the form the relative will take?” He wondered aloud. This was not what he had envisioned by what he knew of the prophecy, but this vision had been so clear. And the voice, the voice was familiar. The voice was the one that had spoken to him about important matters for the tribe and the ceremonies, the voice of creator.
As his thoughts whirled about in his head, he realized he had seen these children before. He had dreamed of them before, dreams that had been washed away from his memory until triggered by seeing them again now. Like writing in the sand, the ocean waves fading them from view, as one wave at a time the water washed the words away. The dream memory often fades so quickly after the light tugs you from sleep. But now he remembered. He remembered.
Grandfather sat ruminating about the prophecy, and the turbulent days to come. He was hunched in front of a small campfire, his aged body balanced on a cracked and crumbling cinderblock. He had been called and known as Grandfather for so long by everyone in the community, that he at times did not remember his birth name. It had been a European name and not a Hopi name, so he did not mind leaving it behind him. He was feeling an urgency about his part in the prophecy, that things were unfolding very quickly now.
The smoke from his small campfire blew in changing directions with the shifting winds. Grandfather thought there was a lot shifting these days, not just the winds. He closed his eyes to protect them from the smarting effects of the acrid smoke that was, for the moment, blowing his way. When the wind changed again, he opened his eyes and turned his gaze to look over the edge of the mesa.
Below him stretched a flat landscape, muted colors and shadows of the desert extending out to the horizon. The mesa he lived on was close to 100 feet above the desert floor, throwing everything below into a blur. Many centuries his people had lived here. Perhaps they had been here since the beginning of the fourth world. That was what his grandfather had told him when he was a child. He believed this mesa, in fact possibly the spot in which he now rested, was a center point of the world. Where the earth energy started and spiraled out in all directions to all parts of the planet. When he focused, he was able to actually see that energy as it vibrated with life. This life energy was interwoven into everything, and he could see it in every person, rock, or river.
Grandfather gently closed his eyes and focused his awareness inward. He connected with the peace at the center of his being, and then turned his attention to the earth beneath his feet. He could feel the energy vibrating, alive and pulsing, coming up from the earth, into and through his body, then out into the air around him. He sat quietly, his breathing slowing into a steady rhythm. He stayed connected to that life essence energy, and he felt it enter the cells of his body, renewing his own life force.
He brought into his heart his deep desire for peace and balance to return to the earth and her people. He held the feeling of that being so and felt joy swell as the pulsing energy waves seemed to build and become more vital. He held that sense of peace and harmony in his heart center, visioning it as a glowing ball of white light. He extended that light, and watched as it expanded and beat with the beating of his own human heart. His wrinkled, weather-worn face creased as a smile stretched his lips. He felt the light spread like warm honey through his body, easing away tension and his many physical pains. His breathing deepened still, his muscles relaxed. He began to lose his awareness of being a physical being, slowly blurring the edges, melting into the awareness of oneness.
A loud thumping sound began that was not in sync with the beating of his heart or the pulsing of the light and energy. It was faint at first but, growing louder, began to vibrate his body in a way that was uncomfortable and in disharmony. His awareness returned to his body and he shifted his weight, feeling his bones grind and crunch as he moved, some of the cinder block crumbling away beneath him. His eyes opened to see the fire, the flames now lower than they had been, the embers glowing bright orange in the fading daylight.
He heard the thumping, felt it buzzing his body with each beat, and began to hear some human voice shouting along with some unintelligible lyrics. Being a traditional Hopi elder, and the medicine keeper for his people, “modern” music was like the invasion of the whites into their lands all over again. The teens were getting sucked into the images they saw on TV, adopting the culture of the whites more and more with each passing year. Grandfather feared that the Hopi, as a culture, and perhaps even as a people, after so many decades of protecting themselves from such changes, might fade into extinction.
Under the sound of the music he could hear the rumble of the car engine. He turned to the road behind him to see a large 1970s Cadillac coming into view. It had climbed the winding road to the top of the mesa and was slowly stalking its way between the pueblo homes, rattling and vibrating the windows that were in loose frames. He could see several of the reservation teen boys in the car, and the music erupted from the open windows like a volcano belching up lava, soot, and ash. He saw one of the kids eject something from the window of the backseat and heard a rattling clatter as an empty beer can skittered across the dirt road toward him. There was an accompanying belch and laughter from the car.
Grandfather’s shoulders slumped, and the blissful feeling he had been holding in his heart disappeared like a puff of smoke. He sighed, and sadness washed through him, like the fast waters did through the washes during summer monsoons. One of the boys in the car might be his own grandson Eloy. He was so filled with anger these days. He did not have any interest in the old ways and seemed to be almost repelled by them.
Grandfather remembered the day he had tried to talk to him about learning the medicine way, and his grandson had looked him in the eyes and told him that those ways were dead, and that Grandfather was living in the past. Grandfather knew that his Grandson was planning to move away from the Reservation as soon as he was old enough.
Grandfather released his breath with a whoosh, and let the sadness continue to wash through him. He focused for a moment and directed the sad energy to flow out through his feet into the earth. The only way to hold onto hope was to let these feelings move, as feelings need to do. Feel them deeply and in purity, and release them back into the earth. The earth could absorb negative feelings like a sponge and would not be harmed in the process.
He watched as the tail lights of the car winked brightly as the driver touched the brakes before drifting around a corner and out of his sight. The sound of the thumping took longer to fade, but eventually he was able to hear the quiet natural sounds again. He could hear a few crickets (there were fewer and fewer as the days of summer were approaching fall), an occasional dog barking, and the sound of the wind. These were soothing sounds to him, familiar sounds, they were…simple sounds. He could smell juniper and sage brush, creosote and dust. He could feel the weight of his body pressing down on his bones and the block supporting him. He said a quick prayer to the creator for Eloy, as he always did when he thought of him. He asked creator to guide his grandson to an awakening of the spirit, one that would show him that the “old ways” were the only way to the future, the only way back into balance.
Without effort of conscious thought, he turned to look into the fire again, or rather the embers of it. His vision blurred as he drifted into the space between thoughts. He lingered there. His body relaxed and his breathing deepened again. A vision began to unfold on his inner vision. He saw two Caucasian teenagers. He saw a boy, tall, with sandy brown hair and hazel-brown eyes, and a girl about a half a head shorter with thick blonde hair and inquisitive bright green eyes. They were engaged in animated conversation as they studied something that was balanced across their laps. He had the impression they were on a bus or train, due to the bench type seat they were on, the movement of their bodies, as well as scenery flashing by the window beyond them. He saw symbols on the object that was spread out between them. It looked something like parchment but did not appear to be made of paper.
As he looked at the symbols, he was suddenly struck by their familiarity. Some of them were symbols that were also on the sacred tablets for which he was the chosen keeper. The prophecy tablets, as they were known, were ancient, and foretold of the time of the fourth shaking. A time the world was most certainly entering now. He saw further that there was an image of the three Hopi mesas, and that the kids were pointing at the mesa upon which he now sat. They were nodding in agreement about something. He began to hear some of what they were saying.
“What do you think we will find there?” asked the girl, locking eyes with the young man next to her. He looked down again at the object, his long bangs falling over his eyes, making his face difficult to read.
“I’m not sure, he said after a brief pause, but I think possibly we might find the old man we have both been seeing in that dream.”
“Yeah,” she said with a tone of amazement. “That wouldn’t really surprise me after what we have experienced so far.” She paused briefly and then added, “What do you think it all means? I mean, it feels really important to me in a way I can’t explain. It feels like somehow this whole journey we’re taking is far bigger than the two of us. I have a feeling, deep down, that this map we have is critical in some way to…” She trailed off, her eyes tightening as she concentrated, trying to find the words.
“I’m not sure how to express it, either,” said the boy, “but I think I know what you mean. This does feel definitely bigger than the two of us.”
The girl nodded solemnly in agreement.
“I think I will freak out a little bit if we do find the old man on that mesa,” he added, with a sheepish grin.
Grandfather’s vision of them faded, and he heard a new voice, one that resonated with authority and conviction.
“They are coming, the time is now. It is time for the world to remember. You will share the prophecy with them. They will carry it where it needs to go. The time is short. These are the ones that you’ve been waiting for.”
Grandfather’s eyes flew open. He saw stars above him and felt a cool breeze flowing over his skin. He felt a few sharp rocks digging into his back. He was lying on his back on the dusty ground, having fallen backward off of the cinder block. His breathing had quickened, and his heartbeat was drumming a fast rhythm against his ribs. He could feel adrenaline speeding the blood through his veins, making his head pulse with each heartbeat.
“Is this really the form the relative will take?” He wondered aloud. This was not what he had envisioned by what he knew of the prophecy, but this vision had been so clear. And the voice, the voice was familiar. The voice was the one that had spoken to him about important matters for the tribe and the ceremonies, the voice of creator.
As his thoughts whirled about in his head, he realized he had seen these children before. He had dreamed of them before, dreams that had been washed away from his memory until triggered by seeing them again now. Like writing in the sand, the ocean waves fading them from view, as one wave at a time the water washed the words away. The dream memory often fades so quickly after the light tugs you from sleep. But now he remembered. He remembered.
