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| Pounding Stone After a Rain |
Peter was afraid for a moment, but the Indian seemed to be ignoring him.
"Are you my guide?" Peter mentally asked.
The Indian stood motionless and silent for what seemed like a long time, then placed the spear on the ground, pointing toward the semi-circle of stone, which suddenly resembled horns.
Peter opened his eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to go back to Sycamore Creek. He closed his eyes again, trying to meditate some more, but he soon fell asleep.
When he woke up, he noticed that over an hour had passed since he had started meditating. He headed over to Cashing’s apartment to see if the meeting was over. Cashing was just putting the final touches on a strange, dream-like story.
"What’s that you’re working on?" Peter asked after Cashing opened the door..
“Would you like to take a look?"
Peter read it quickly. “That’s pretty cool!" Peter exclaimed.
“Would you like to read the rest? Click on this link if you’d like to read more,” Cashing responded encouragingly.
“I’d like to, but I really came over for another reason. How did the meeting go?"
"This is a tough issue. There’s not a lot we can do legally. On a political level, we might stage a press conference and boycott the businesses owned by our landlord. He is a very rich man, by the way, who owns a lot of businesses here in town. There’s no reason for him to be hurting people like this."
"Hey, you know what? When I was meditating, a spirit guide told me to go to a special place in the woods. We could meditate there, and maybe you might think of a solution to this problem. What do you think?"
"So you have a spirit guide. I might have known. You want to go now?"
"Sure, why not? My parents won’t miss me for awhile, at least not till it gets dark."
"I don't want to piss off your parents again, but, on the other hand, I don’t have anything planned for today. You’re sure your parents won’t mind?"
"They know you’re okay. Besides, they won’t even realize I’m gone. They’re out running around doing errands. Sometimes they run errands all day long."
Cashing’s old Corolla struggled up the steep inclines, threatening to overheat, but soon they found a place to park next to an unchained gate.
"My, my, talk about coincidence. I used to wander around on this property all the time, twenty years ago. I can probably even tell you where you’re planning to take me. Coincidence just seems to be all too common for us."
"I’ll follow you, then, at least until you start to get us lost," Peter laughed.
As they hiked down the trail, Justin waxed philosophical, "On one level, the modern 'magician' is a kind of shaman who not only uses symbols and archetypes to connect with invisible subtle energies, but also strives to connect with the subtle energies of visible living creatures, which requires deep cleansing of the subconscious, great empathy, and a kind of rebirth of the self. In other words, the modern shaman is reborn into kinship, relying on the ego as a survival tool but seeing beyond, through sympathetic imagination, to the deep connection he or she has with all living things, and seeing beyond also to the possibilities of indeterminacy and otherness. The shaman strives to know the element of Earth as much as any other element, to know living plants and animals as well as invisible spirits. After all, the ability to know one goes hand in hand with the ability to know the other because sympathy is required for both. The modern shaman thrives on the adventures of otherness and the creative indeterminacy of Being, which is the mercy of eternity."
Peter just nodded his head.
Cashing was profoundly curious but didn’t ask any questions. He wanted to see whether or not Peter had a different idea about where they should go. He led Peter down a crumbling oiled road littered by shotgun shells, dried cow patties, and buckeye seeds. Grass and milkweed were growing in the cracks created by run-off from the slopes. Finally they reached a ridge where they could hear a creek in the distance. An old trail ran parallel to the road for a few feet and then curved down toward the creek. Cashing paused.
"So you do know this place," Peter said.
"I know it well. Which way do you want to go?"
"Let’s head out to the ridge," Peter pointed north.
They crossed the faint trail, stepped over a fallen gray pine, and soon found themselves on a pounding stone overlooking the creek.
"Notice anything?" Cashing asked.
"You mean the house pits?" Peter pointed to five circular indentations in the ground near the pounding stone.
"Precisely. At first I thought cattle had worn those holes in the ground, but then, after I explored the area carefully, I realized that people must have made them."
"Do you want to follow that trail down to the creek?" Peter pointed back toward the road.
Cashing, amazed by Peter’s knowledge of the area, was tempted to tell him about an experience that had occurred years before. Cashing had first approached the area by hiking east along the creek. As he was hiking, the sun was going down and the air was cooling off, the creek gurgling and crickets scraping out a pleasant song. Cashing had suddenly experienced the sensation that he had been there before and then felt very powerful feelings of jealousy and rage that did not belong to him. He then knew that he would find something if he kept walking on the stones next to the creek. Soon he came upon a pounding stone right next to the water. He sat down and closed his eyes. He was suddenly sure that he would find a trail not far from the pounding stone. He scrambled up the slope under the low branches of an ancient oak tree and immediately found the trail, which led to where he and Peter were now standing. Cashing, who had contemplated reincarnation as a possible explanation while hiking along the trail those many years ago, had somehow known that he would find a pounding stone on a ridge, even though he had never been there before.
Cashing began hiking down the trail. Peter followed silently behind him. Soon they were sitting on the pounding stone next to the creek.
"So, is this where you want to meditate?" Cashing asked.
"This is not where my spirit guide told me to go," Peter replied. "We need to cross the creek. It’s just up there," Peter pointed to the top of the hill on the other side of the creek.
The water was high, the rocks were unstable, but they both managed to ford the creek without getting wet. As they were scrambling up the slope, Cashing again had the sense that he had been there before. As they reached the top, Cashing stepped on a pounding stone that was almost completely covered by dirt.
"It’s over there," Peter blurted out.
They found the rough semicircle of stone and sat down.
"For some reason, I feel mighty strange. This must be the place," Cashing smiled.
"Yeah, this is it," Peter said. "Let’s just meditate for a while and see what happens. I don’t feel like thinking about that landlord right now."
Cashing found himself sucked very quickly into the meditative state, because, it seemed, he and Peter had suddenly tuned in to the same mental frequency. After awhile, Cashing envisioned himself before a fire in the semicircle of stone. Faces of elders flickered and glowed in the firelight. Suddenly he sensed that Peter was beside him in the vision, but Peter had a different face, not just because the firelight was flickering. They were both Native Americans, but Peter was older, a young man, not a teenager. Cashing then realized that in his vision he was looking at Peter through the eyes of a woman.
Startled, Cashing opened his eyes. Peter opened his eyes at the same time and turned to Cashing.
"I just saw something strange," Peter exclaimed.
"So did I," Cashing replied. "You go first."
"I saw both of us sitting around a fire," Peter said, "but you were a woman."
"Don’t tell me," Cashing said. "We were both Native Americans?"
"Yes," Peter said, "and we were both right here."
"I think we should keep trying, and this time don’t stop even if you see something really weird," Peter suggested.
"All right, this is just another one of those things that I'm not going to be able to explain. Let’s do it," Cashing agreed.
Again Cashing found himself very quickly in the meditative state, but for what seemed like a long time, he sat with his mind in the void, trying to keep from thinking. Then suddenly he saw the hill at sunrise. He imagined stumbling down to the creek as soldiers were sneaking up on the village from the other side of the hill. Suddenly he heard gunfire. Men, women, and children were being shot down as they dashed around the hill. Suddenly a man stepped out of his hut with a bow and arrow. He sent an arrow straight into the chest of a soldier. Just as he was aiming another arrow, a cowboy who had joined the massacre shot the Native American in the back. Then the cowboy turned around. Cashing recognized the dead Native American as Peter.
Cashing couldn’t continue meditating. He opened his eyes again. Peter was breathing quietly, his eyes already open.
"I think I was killed during some kind of massacre," Peter murmured.
"And I think the person who killed you was our friend the landlord--who must have been a rancher in his past life," Cashing blurted out.
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