I am finding something that is both difficult and delightful about getting older; as I look back into the past, I have a longer distance to view. It is hard to believe that it was only ten years ago that I was as reckless as I was – with my self assured confidence presiding over the train wrecks of my life. This was a long time ago; so much has happened that the last ten years seems like an eternity, but this miniscule amount of time I have spent on the Red Road has made a huge difference in my life. I know that had I continued on my previous path, I would definitely not be where I am at present. (I don’t know where I would have been, but it scares me to speculate.)
I remember my first sweat with Fred, up at the San Geronimo school; how Roy and Dennis, both looking pretty rough, were trying unsuccessfully to get a fire started in a puddle of January rain. Fred (this old Indian guy) was just sitting there not saying anything. I knew how to light that fire, but I had the good sense to keep my mouth shut. Finally Fred raises his jaw a bit: “I’m going to show you guys one of the ‘oldest ways’.” I figured I was about to see exactly what I came for – a deep, meaningful fix. Some mix of indigenous wisdom, faith and magic. So Fred heads off to his car and returns with a gallon of white gas. This ends up all over the pile of wet wood, and soon enough we were all warming ourselves by that fire – Fred, Roy, Dennis, Me, and the Stone People, and that magic happened before I got into that first sweat.
Aho,
Michael Stocker