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Walk Through Walls Dance Vision Transcending All Rules, Forms and Expectations 1/15/04
Listening to the CD Sacred Spirit: chants and dances of the Native Americans this stormy afternoon, the drums and chants are so compelling, I spontaneously jump up from paying the bills and begin dancing barefoot in the living room. After about an hour of dancing to this and other Native American music, something catches hold of me and I feel free. The body does its own dances, as if I have been a Native American before. “How do I know how to do this?” I wonder, as I stomp and twirl and move my arms like a medicine man. “Keep your head down as you dance, and you will see,” I hear inside my head. So I continue to dance with my head down, beginning to see a vision. In the vision, I am an Oglala Sioux medicine man, dancing around a fire in preparation for a vision of healing. As I dance into a trance, I have a realization. A Visionary Voice says, “In order to heal, one must break all the rules. You will never learn to truly heal unless you break this scene. You need to walk through walls into other realities. You must leave where and who you think you are.” Following the Vision’s Voice, I dance away from the tribal community fire with my sacred rattle in my hand. I dance, dance, dance, forward into the night, away from my home and my people. | ||||||||||||||||
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By morning, I have come to an ocean. On the beach sits a birch bark canoe. Into the canoe I climb, and begin rowing, never looking back. Rowing to the pulse of my own heartbeat, on and on. Finally by dusk, I have rowed to the edge of the ocean and am face-to-face with the huge setting sun. It is very hot, so I remove my deerskin shirt and leggings, leaving on only a loincloth. I am sweating and tired, yet I keep going. I step out of the canoe into total darkness, as the sun has completely blinded me by this time. I walk forward into this Complete Darkness. After an unknown amount of time, my eyes reopen, and I see I am at the bottom of a ladder, still a Native American, yet now I am of the Pueblo Peoples, a medicine man who needs to bring rains to this region. If I cannot help, the people will likely not survive. I will sacrifice my own life, if need be, to bring The Rains. It is still very hot, and I find myself climbing up the hot dusty ladder toward the cliff dwellings above me. When I reach the top, I will do a Sacred Dance for the tribe, beseeching The Great Spirit to send The Rains. As I climb, I feel even more tired, hot, and thirsty. Sweat is dripping all over my body. I notice that my hands have gradually changed. They are bleeding, and there is blood mixing with the sweat, trickling down my head into my face and eyes. My hands slip upon the ladder rungs. I feel sharp pains in my head . My feet are also covered with blood. My thirst is almost unbearable, as I climb, climb, keep climbing, until I reach the top of the Mesa, where I collapse. Lying on my back, I look up into the blue, cloudless sky. I can no longer move. Flying high above me is a most magnificent eagle, resting, soaring, on wings outstretched eased upon a soft, hot, lazy breeze. “Brother Eagle”, I call out in a dry, raspy whisper, “I have traveled far. I can go no further. This Is A Good Day To Die. Take me to The Great White Spirit. Take me to The Thunder Beings and Grandfather Sky. Take me to The Rain Maker, or my people will surely die.” | ||||||||||||||||
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With a piercing scream, the huge eagle swoops down with its sharp talons and picks me up. His wings flap strong and confidently, up, up, up, higher and higher into the sky. As I look down at the earth below, I see that I have become a large grey rat. Brother Eagle finally reaches the gates of a Heavenly City. He flies into a large room where the Masters reside with their Great Books, and drops me at their feet. They are luminous beings, all glowing with white light, emanating overwhelming, soft, powerful energy. “What are you doing here?” ask the Masters. | ||||||||||||||||
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With bright, eager eyes, I answer, “I wish to learn.” “But you are a rat!” answer the Masters. “You will need to prove yourself, here!” After some consideration, and a drink of cool water, the Masters say, “We will give you wings. See what you can do. But first you need to keep making trips back to Earth.” I agree. The Masters gently kick me out of their magnificent palace, and I find myself falling downwards toward earth again. As I descend, I realize that now I am in the form of an angel, with white robe and wings. I use the wings to enjoy flying tricks on my way down back to Earth. I land in a very dirty, dark alley in New York City, now in the form of a handsome young punk wearing black leather, and chewing gum. | ||||||||||||||||
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“An angel in disguise,” I think. “This should be interesting.” I notice in the dimly lit alley another young punk leaning into an old woman. He is threatening her with the jagged glass of a broken bottle. He pulls at her purse. Being an angel , I realize I cannot let him hurt the old woman. She screams, “Help!” I swagger over to the young punk. “Don’t bother over this old bag with her measly purse. She’s got nothin’, man. I’m gonna rob a bank! Come on. Quick!” The young punk reluctantly drops the broken bottle and runs away with me, leaving the old woman to slump into a heap in the alley. Next thing I know is I am in jail for attempted bank robbery. “Some angel”, I think, sighing, and lay down to take a nap. | ||||||||||||||||
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After an hour’s snooze, my eyes slowly reopen. I realize I have been in Deep Meditation. As I softly gaze down at my clothing, I see that I have transformed into a humble Tibetan Monk. Yes. Maroon robe, orange shawl and prayer beads. I find myself going from cell to cell, bowing my head to prisoners, teaching Nonviolence, Karma and Buddha Dharma, in a soft, gentle voice. Many inmates cry, as I sit with them. I notice small changes in them, day by day. They look happier and more relaxed. They are trying meditation. I close my eyes and am lost into meditation and reciting healing mantras with a man on Death Row. When my eyes open, I find myself back in the living room. I look down at myself. I am wearing a t-shirt and Levi's. I go look in a mirror. I see a blonde 59-year-old woman looking back at me. “I’m back,” I think. “I wonder what I am doing here. I wonder why I am here,” I think. As I walk back into the living room, I hear the same CD playing Native American music. “One more dance,” I say to myself, “and then I will finish paying the bills.” As I begin dancing, my head bends down, and I feel as if the music is taking me over. My body starts dancing on its own. I begin to feel just like a Native American medicine man. “I wonder how I know how to do this,” I think. I look down at my body and I notice I am wearing a deerskin jacket and leggings of an Oglala Sioux medicine man with a Shaman’s rattle in my hand. | ||||||||||||||||
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