FAILURE OF MAGIC (RELIGION) AND TECHNOLOGY (SCIENCE) IN KNOWING OURSELVES

Religion with its magic and miracle and Science with its technology and progress has not brought us closer to who we are as beings of many worlds but, rather, has distanced us severely from ourselves. Religion ruled and failed, since it was more interested in extending itself than whatever truth it may have possessed and had lost over time through its own corruption and dogma to be imposed upon the faithful. Science and its technology arose as a force in the period of the Enlightenment, bringing the antithesis of religious belief and spirituality, and the truth of the physical world, as if that were all. It had the effect of mechanizing the spirit so that we might see ourselves as organic, fleshy, machines.

It would seem at this point that humans have so identified themselves as such that they believe they will progress quite well as cyborgs, ultimately with all the necessary apps implanted in their brains at birth, and all the necessary tools to keep their bodies intact and healthy and alive for at least hundreds of years. It seems that humans at this point would opt for an existence free of "difficult personal choices," now seen in terms of obsolete "existential dilemmas." One's life will be pleasantly planned out for him or her. In a sense it already is and has been since the beginning: one is born into a social, cultural, familial process that is already churning through its endless cycles. However, now there is still or most recently a sense of personal choice, which is real for those who come to make it as such, and not real for those who only make wishes or who are literally trapped in their lives. Many are either literally or psychological already quite imprisoned, if not enslaved, in the reality they have fashioned for themselves and/or has been fashioned for them by culture, society, and family. We are born into mindsets and their respective realities on all of those levels. And this must first be realized if we are to be able to create in any way something different for ourselves.

Both religion and technology have and do strongly form and continuously inform us. For many, religion as already come and dominated but has lost its hold to technology, which now controls us and with which we now identify as literally an integral part of our own being. We allow it to act for us and to even think for us. Technology is now the body-snatcher; it is the alien that now possesses us. We will not think to question it or ourselves regarding it. We give up our own particular existences in order that we might be able to think like it, becoming part and parcel of its matrix, the web itself. We learn to ably think it and speak it. We are willing to give up what has become the trifle of the human soul in exchange for the endless benefits of being part of the One Mind. It's a very religious and technological attainment for us, but spirit and matter are not joined; spirit becomes as matter and is brought down to the darkness of matter. Spirit is mechanized and put to use like a robot.

One may ask, "So why is this such a problem? So what if I become an efficient thinking, feeling machine?" The problem is that this is not what you are. You are not a machine. You must make existential choices. You have a soul, as it were. There is something within you that is far greater than the machine-world, than the physical world. If you cannot attain contact with that vital element of yourself, you will find yourself very lost and confused when you finally leave the body. Even if there is no afterlife at all and there is not soul to go anywhere, then whatever energy of awareness or consciousness that was you may then be added the the "pool" of all energy. If you have allowed yourself to become identified with only the physical, the mechanical, what will happen to the collective level of energy? Will you be one more monkey-wrench thrown into it? But that's a moot point; nobody particularly thinks about that, or cares.

If one is so identified with themselves as other-than-human, and other-than-spirit, what happens when one is plunged into a world that is not human but of the spirit? If one has no references, just what does one do? What do you do? Or, put differently, what if you suddenly discover that there is no you, but all you know is you? I think it is wiser to prepare for this perhaps ultimate reality. If you end when life ends and there is simply no more consciousness, that's fine and well. But, you must ask, "What if I am thrust into a totally different reality, one that I had every opportunity to seek out, but, given the conveniences of technology (or religion, for that matter), didn't? What happens then?"

The main feature in Dante's Divine Comedy is, to my mind, that those who are suffering grievously in Hell are totally unaware that they are in Hell; they believe they are still alives and living their lives from day to day. That is most interesting. To not even know but to live hellish lives over and over in eternity. Now, of course, that's just a story, but I find it to be philosophically and psychologically quite credible, if not inevitable. For this reason in itself, we are destined to inquire within ourselves to find that which is beyond ourself and our world.

BRIEF WORDS RE FOCUS

I realize that speaking of "fragments" and the "fallacy of reality," in itself becomes a distraction and a kind of abstraction that may effectively remove one from the matter at hand, whatever that may be. Claiming that "it's not supposed to make sense" does not remove one from being in the moment and responding as well as possible.

Not so long ago, a few years, I was obsessed with "what happens when I die." I wrote a number of essays based in my own "education" regarding death, which made some kind of sense and which I was willing to take seriously at that point, having taken such perspectives even more seriously and with pronounced belief prior to that time. But then, as I could accept that I just didn't know for sure, I stopped perseverating over what happens at death. 

I'll return to this in due time.

A PREFERENCE FOR IRONY

So that which we call "true" is not really so true after all. Rather, it is a construct of our own making, of which we are generally not aware at all, since it is a social construct that predates us probably by generations. And so, "tradition" becomes "truth" because it has been around for so long as to be believed as such. 

So if that which is "true" is not necessarily so at all, and one was persistently aware of this, a sense of irony would persist, would necessarily have to persist within one's mind. This is not really a "preference"; it is a reality: the reality of appearances and of beliefs held. Such reality would be present to one who understood this "transparency" as perpetual fallacy that reinstates and recreates itself. 

And this is precisely why I changed the name of this blog to "fragments." Everything comes to us in fragments, be it sensory, emotional, or mental. It comes not in wholes. We are so trained that we give our fragmentary existence meaning by interpreting all these fragments, depending also on our state of body, emotion, and mind. We believe that we understand and comprehend and, in such belief, "create" ourselves, our lives and our world. This is how it is and probably how it must be--at least until we are able to move out from under such beliefs about ourselves.

Sometimes I feel very strange and awkward in the flesh, in this human body. It feels as if this is not my normal form. I can appreciate all the at least billions of years it took to evolve it to its present form, but I also feel as if I've been rather recently plopped into this human form, which is akin to an organic, fleshy machine, though I mean no denigration in saying that. It is a quite phenomenal organism, probably the most phenomenal organism of its kind. Yet I find it strange and even awkward or ponderous that I have to convey thoughts by writing words by typing with my hands, taking words "from my mind," in a body I must work at to have it survive by feeding it, cleaning it, cleansing it--an animal flesh body from the planet Earth. To most people what I say here would sound crazy, much like some arrogant alien. I thought, while walking this morning, how strange that these arms hang at my sides now, and that my eyes and face communicate to other people without saying a word. Sometimes I find that I know people's thoughts, and especially their emotions. It's not that try or that I'm so interested; it's just that I do, that's all. Nor is it that I am aloof or antisocial; I'm actually quite friendly and take an actual interest in others: I want them to feel good and be well, and I am heartened when this is so. But even if people did know their own minds, which they don't for the most part, they are not much supposed to actually reveal how it is for them; such honesty is disquieting and disruptive to the "flow" of society. But this leads me back once more to the notion that existence is fragmentary and that our attempts to interpret and make sense of ourselves and our lives and the world is fraught with inaccuracy and fallacy.

HOLDING THE AWARENESS

There is an awareness which I call "the awareness" which, I believe, exists within each of us. Most of us are generally unaware of it and remain enmeshed and occupied by our thoughts and our feelings and our sensations. I hate waiting in lines and being stuck in traffic. Right in the midst of my irritable and impatient thoughts and feelings, "the awareness" comes into my mind, not as a thought or feeling, but as a sense of higher or greater being, as though I am above all the drama unfolding below, which includes myself in all my irritation and identity with myself as one who must wait in line and thus waste my very existence in the physical world in a physical body. This is how my thoughts go. But "the awareness" puts me in a state that might be described as "a sense of being it all," in which my definition of "myself" expands beyond any sense of individual or separate self. It is simply a different state of being in which "I" am not at the center of attention or awareness. It's not accompanied by any particular feelings of elation, though there is a sense of no tension held in place with stressed thoughts and feelings.
      This "awareness" does "come upon" me, yes, but I also realize that it is always present and that I am perfectly able to "go there" or "let it in" whenever I want to. I also notice that sometimes I don't want to have it; that the distraction of the moment, of the deceit, of the pleasure, perhaps even of the pain, of the "lower" existence, is something I prefer, be it out of habit, comfort, pleasure, which are all chemical, physical "highs." A religious person might say, "The devil made me do it," and be quite accurate in a sense.
"The awareness" does have religious overtones; one could easily call it "the mind of God," though I prefer keeping it, to me, real, and much simpler; "God" gets too much credit and too much blame; let us look at ourselves squarely and honestly. Though I see that the notion of "God" covers all that area of which we are unconscious, which is of "mystery" (which leads to another discussion another time) and therefore fulfills a major function of life.
     We have the capacity to call "the awareness," once consciously experienced, into our minds, our thoughts again and again. It is a state of being that encompasses what we see as ourselves and others and, really, everything. Imagine how life could be, how the world itself could be, if people were aware that they could participate in the level of existence whenever they chose. We would no longer be at the mercy of our fears and would even be able to transcend ourselves while still being able to be ourselves living our lives.

BEING THROUGHOUT HISTORY

One thing I am aware of is that I have lived numerous lives throughout history, a number of which I do remember though not completely. There are some dates, some names, some vivid memories, some of which have even been corroborated, though I do not say this to prove anything to be true, but to imply that they were in fact real and that I have in fact experienced myriad lives, and not only earthly ones.

When I read history my memory is stirred if I happened to be in that moment, that time, that place. It is as though I not only knew some of these people but that I was one of them. One of my lives is known in history, the many others are not. I have remembered details in some instances that are most defining. To realize that I have been present in this way throughout human history does not give insight so much as it does compassion for the human condition itself. To be succinct, I have traveled the path of a Roman centurian who escorted Jesus Christ to Pontius Pilate to a rabbi at Treblinka. We have been there and back and have close memories that can only be conveyed as stories.

THE PROBLEM IS...

For a while now I have been gathering and organizing and attempting to edit writing I have done over the last twenty years or so which amounts to literally thousands of pages for the purpose of writing and publishing a book. But the problem is that I am used to writing every day, as if I am drawing up water from a very deep well that I use to quench my thirst. As interesting or as quenching my earlier writing may be or have been for me, such memories or old creations do not quench my need to draw from this deep well.

So I am compelled to say so here and now. The book needs to be organized, edited and published, but I am already stuck on just what of my journal entries I want to include. I tend to write personally within a philosophical context, probably so that I am able to observe who it is that is actually writing and what he is actually saying. I don't write to entertain; I write to share something of value, something that adds to one's understanding and comprehension not only of oneself but of oneself in one's life and in the world. I don't know exactly how or why but what I write needs to be written and not just for my own fulfillment and/or expression. 

If one descends into a deep cavern full of treasure everywhere but which can only be transformed into words, into thoughts, one desires to take it with him or her back to the surface. But that's quite an inadequate metaphor. If one eats of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, one then understands something of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and what that means. Such understanding is as a treasure to be shared to the good of all. I seem to be saying that I have eaten of this tree and have attained some kind of knowledge not known in general. I have but I don't know exactly what it is. It is in the telling of the story that it is imparted to those who are interested and able to listen. It has to be made available. It is very difficult and tiring to have to decipher one's own wisdom since it does not arise out of oneself but rather through oneself. Such wisdom may be called "spiritual" but it is not limited to that nor is it specifically religious at all.

THE VISION QUEST: ANALYSIS OF A FIELD STUDY

             In this paper I will, first, explore the rite of passage generally known as the “vision quest,” noting its components and its functions as it is practiced in the Native American (or American Indian) traditions and cultures of North America. Then, using a narrative of my own vision quest experience (which I have included with this paper for your convenience) as a field study source, I will analyze my experience in terms of the components and functions as stated in various sources pertaining to ritual, rites of passage and the vision quest in particular, and also comment upon the outcome of the vision quest experience upon my personal life, and perspectives on social relationships in general.

             The vision quest itself is generally recognized as a rite of passage from childhood or adolescence to adulthood, however, it is also serves the function of other transitions, for instance, from middle age to “elderhood” (Hine 322). Regarding this particular transition, Hine states, “The challenge of the aging passage is to assume the responsibility of personal power and wisdom, won from a lifetime of experience” (322). In addition, she sees the “vision quest as a ceremony of aging” allowing one to “embrace […] elderhood” (322-323). Carl Jung recognized the significance of such rites of passage, believing, in fact, that “the human psyche actually views such major transition periods […] as Death and Rebirth” (Martin 316).

In the traditional formal vision quest, Joseph Campbell, in his Historical Atlas of World Mythology, describes one going alone into the wilderness, fasting, meditating and praying in expectation of a vision of a “spiritual being,” a “guardian-familiar” (131). Highwater states, “The visions, the images, the spirit-helpers that arise from dream […] put the individual in contact with the orenda [from the Iroquois name of the energy inherent in everything in the cosmos (82)], manifesting it and strengthening it within that ‘dreamer’ so he or she might live and prosper rather than decline and die” (83). The goal of “vision,” of inspiration comes through a dream and/or a visitation by one’s totem, which is generally, but not always, a “spirit animal guide.” Foster states that this “supernatural power confers a […] boon on the seeker” (88). Pertaining to the significance of the totem, “[t]he Indians related everything to what could be observed […] from the environment. Any principle, or natural or cosmic law which affected the life of man […] could be best understood through observing the natural forces at work” (Meadows 38), and manifesting in the form of mineral, plant, or animal (275). Campbell, in The Masks of God, further adds the idea of totem as the human “co-player” in the natural world, and as “animal guardian or personal patron” (295).  

Frazer recognizes the importance of the purifying “sweat-house” (207), and Hartz defines the “Sweat Lodge Ceremony” as one that “prepares the participants for entering and leaving the presence of sacredness” (44). The procedure is one of “pouring water over heated stones to produce a cleansing steam bath” (Bruchac 4). Powers states that the sweat lodge, “for both spiritual and salutary reasons, […] serves as a preparatory and concluding ritual for the vision quest,” and “the vision quest is partially dependent on the sweat lodge to achieve full efficacy” (x). The “sweat lodge purification ceremony” is “at once a sacred place and a sacred time” (McCarthy 166).

As in all rites of passage, the vision quest involves three basic stages, consisting of:    (1) one’s intention to “sever” oneself from one’s current world and its limitations, (2) taking on “the time of testing” in which one actually steps “across the threshold” into “the sacred world” and out of one’s former life and its limits, and (3) the return or “incorporation” back into the world and community previously left behind, but now as a person transformed by the experience of the vision quest (89).

Though there are preparatory activities occurring during the middle or “threshold stage” itself, there are also several preparatory components which precede this middle stage (or the actual vision quest itself). These include: (1) purification, generally through the sweat lodge experience, (2) mental preparation, in which one determines one’s particular intention for the vision quest, and (3) the “medicine walk,” or pilgrimage-type journey to the vision quest site (Foster 93).

             The essential components (which I have paraphrased in most cases here) of the actual “threshold” or liminal stage of a traditional vision quest are:  

(1) Finding a “place of power” for yourself at which to conduct the vision quest,

(2) Having a “buddy” who can be contacted in case of problems or emergencies,

(3) Establishing a symbol, such as a boundary line of stones, of your own acceptance and willingness to “cross the threshold,”

(4) Fasting,

(5) Readiness to receive a “medicine name” which you may hear during your experience,

(6) Attuning yourself and listening to Nature with your whole being,

(7) Being very aware of your dreams,

(8) Making a ceremonial fire,

(9) Building and occupying a circle around yourself, and

(10) Reemerging from the threshold world.

(Foster & Little 95-103)

             Since presenting the whole eight-page narrative of my vision quest “story” and experience in the body of this paper would exceed the prescribed length, I will be utilizing  pertinent portions of it as quoted text followed by analysis. This (and the provision of the complete text narrative [including its “typos”] as an addendum), is far easier and simpler for the reader than having to refer to the website where it is published.

             Visions quests may be “spontaneous” and/or “informal.” Within the traditions of various tribes, such spontaneity and informality became fairly common: “Prominence of the Plains vision quest […] reflects […] renewal, under conditions of heightened instability, of an openness to the unknown never wholly subordinated to the invariance of ritual” (Torrance 245). Torrance further states, “The American Indian was an individualist in religion as in war” (245).  Irwin speaks of the “unsupervised” form of the vision quest as follows:

Two forms generally characterize the Plains vision quest. The first is the unsupervised pattern of dream fasting, which involves the individual in a search for a vision or dream as a self-determined quest, frequently undertaken without supervision or guidance. The individual might either be a neophyte or an experienced dream seeker. […] (T)he individual proceeded to the fasting place without any guidance or assistance.” (98)

             Though it was generally accepted that a vision concerning “a matter of much importance” should be supervised by a medicine man, there was also a “widespread recognition that the significance of a vision would be determined in part by the motivation of the individual,” and in accordance with his “actual intentions and goals” (99). In addition, the fact “[t]hat so many Native American people received dreams of power or had visionary experiences in a free and spontaneous manner suggest that visionary power came to certain individuals whether they fasted or not” (100). In other words, vision could be attained without the quest; “[t]he underlying belief being […] that if individuals are chosen to receive a vision from the powers, it will come whether they seek it or not” (279).

My vision quest was not consciously intended by me at the outset of this “wilderness experience” (Leone 1) in the ancient homeland of the Esalen People, but was named as such for me by the medicine man and tribal leader, Little Bear. The vision quest narrative explains:

                          We were staying in the ancestral village area of the ancient Esalen people,

                          according to Little Bear, who claimed they lived there five thousand years ago.

                          There was ample evidence of inhabitation from […] the petroglyphs painted on

                          the rocks high above the valley, and the fire-blackened rock walls around the

circle of the original elders of the tribe. […] When Little Bear showed us the ancient fire circle of the tribal elders, he said that they still lived there and that his people were very afraid of that place because of its great medicine, so great it could kill a man or make him crazy. It was at that moment that I decided I would spend that night there to see if what he was saying had any truth to it. […] Once he realized I was serious, he told me to “have belief” in some real way lest I anger the ancestors. He said that this amounted to a very high-powered “vision quest” and that I should also have an intention or a wish in mind before I go to sleep. He wondered out loud what animal might talk to me, and if he would ever see me again. (Leone 1-2)

             We can see that the location, both general and specific, fulfils the requirements pertaining to proper location for a vision quest. It is a place recognized by the Esalen People as ancient and sacred. Little Bear himself, in referring to its “great medicine,” sees it as a defined place of power. High places, such as mountains, and places “where ancient petroglyphs were carved into the rock” are recognized as “inhabited by dream-spirits willing to share their power and knowledge” (Irwin 106).

In addition, this particular vision quest is of a spontaneous as well as informal nature. Knowing that I will be going to this sacred place, and believing in its power, Little Bear believed that I will have a “dream” and a “vision,” and will be “visited” by “my” totem. He also apparently believed that I was capable of handling the experience, having observed me carefully over the previous days. However, in spite of the apparent spontaneity and “informality,” Little Bear still subjected me to a “preparation” which fulfilled some of the basic components of the vision quest ritual. First, I went through the purification ritual at the sweat lodge. This purification is much more than just a physical cleansing; it is an attitudinal change to one of submission and humility. “Sacred knowledge” can only be attained if one is “open to the numinous state of our deeper being” acquired through humility, and “(f)acing death directly [through the sweat lodge experience] brings forth a sense of humility” (Pinkson 367). Second, I fasted before the purification ritual, and had no chance to eat before going up the mountain to the ancient fire circle. Nor did I eat anything after returning from the mountain, being so excited about my upcoming “vision quest.” Thirdly, I performed the “medicine walk” up the mountain to the place where I decided to “perform” my vision quest. By means of this journey, “certain spirits or powers of nature, which typify the nature of your own ‘medicine power,’ are attracted by you and reveal themselves to you” (Foster 93) so that you know you have found the proper site for your vision quest. Fourthly, Little Bear advised me, quite seriously, to “have belief” in the ancestors and their power, and to have an intention for myself or a “wish in mind” which was important to me. He intimated that I would be spoken to by an animal (totem) and that the whole episode was fraught with danger- to the point of literally dying. This last injunction relates to making myself receptive within my whole being in order to be able to receive any impression or “message” from my environment and/or the “spirit realm.” It was a reminder that I should be attuned, focused, and ready to sleep and receive my dreams with courage and awareness as well as a willingness and ability to act upon them. Unlike other rites of passage, the vision quest is not “reduced to a single inflexible pattern” and is quite open-ended in the sense that its “success depends not only on transcendent powers but on the questor’s own immensely fallible endeavors” (Torrance 265).

             At that point, I climbed to the vision quest site at dusk and “made camp.” I also imagined a very strange wish based on my overwhelming feeling of “burn out” (and also my suspicion that this whole “vision quest thing” was only a fantasy anyway): I wanted to “be the only person left on earth” (Leone 3). To continue with a next sequence of my vision quest narrative:

                          I awoke the first time to see the two pine trees moving closer to me. I blinked my   

                          eyes but I could see them coming closer […]. Then I heard voices […]. […] (T)wo

                          of them in conversation […]. I opened my eyes to see two raccoons going

                          through my knapsack. […] I stared at them in disbelief and asked them if this

                          wasn’t just a dream, telling them that everybody knows raccoons don’t speak like

                          humans. They […] said, “Actually, everybody knows that humans don’t speak like

                          raccoons.” I was confused. […]. (3)

             Here, I have begun the “dreaming” phase of the vision quest (Foster & Little 99). I was now in that liminal, “threshold” place, complete with moving trees and  talking raccoons. I was “receiving my dream” in what seemed to be complete awareness. I could feel the coastal fog misting on my face, and could hear the wind rustling the leaves of the tree nearby, as well as the shrill, cartoon-like voices of the raccoons. But my totem had not yet arrived. When it did, it was a complete surprise:

                                      I looked up and the moon was so bright as to be blinding as sunlight. […] I felt the movement of an insect’s legs on the back of my hand […] and saw a large black tick. […] (I)t spoke to me, saying: “I wouldn’t get rid of me if I were you. You need me. I am your key. I am your guide”. […] I couldn’t believe my ears […] [or] my eyes either. The tick continued, “As I said, I am your guide and you need me. I am your wish-granter. I am the one who will speak to you and I am the only one who can hear you. Do not lose me or you may be lost forever”. The deep voice seemed to come from everywhere; it surrounded me. Now I was confused and frightened. This dream […] was turning into a nightmare and I wanted to wake up. The tick […] spoke again: “I am very much for real. You’ll see. I am going to grant you your wish as of this moment. If you need to talk to me, you can come back to this spot and I will probably be here – though there are no guarantees.”

                         (3-4).

             This phase again pertains to the “dreaming” portion of the vision quest (Foster & Little 99). My totem, my “spiritual guide” was none other than a tick; something I could never have even imagined. The tick does not seem to be a particularly powerful creature (nor did I see it as such), however it is an insect feared by man for its abilities not only to attach itself to him by literally screwing its head into his body and then sucking and living off his blood, but also as a carrier of powerful bacteria capable of transmitting the often debilitating and sometimes fatal Lyme Disease. (There are an estimated 1.5 to 2 million current cases of it among humans who came into contact with ticks on all continents [Lyme Disease Foundation]). If that is its effect upon the human world, imagine its effect on the animal world! Such a totem, though not as overtly impressive as a hawk, a bear, a snake or a mountain lion, is definitely one of “great medicine.” The tick’s words to me, “Do not lose me or you may be lost forever,” were certainly foreboding, as was his warning that there were “no guarantees.” I was also quite struck by the voice which seemed to emanate from everywhere around me (4). James Walker, a Lakota Sioux, states in Lakota Belief and Ritual, “The vision may come to you as a man, a beast, a bird, or as some form that is not known. Or it may come to you as a voice only” (McCarthy 163).

             Exhilarated, I departed the campsite, and, discovered over the next twenty-four hours that my wish had in fact been granted. I was the only person left on earth. This became apparent after driving three hundred miles over public freeways through cities and towns, and not seeing one single person anywhere. The gravity and consequences of my wish descended upon me with such weight that I knew I would not even want to live in such a world of loneliness and emptiness. In utter desperation I returned to the spot where the tick had been and called for it to take back my wish. If it did not appear or would not take it back, I had decided simply to stay and die right there (4-7). The narrative continues:

                                      I don’t know if I fell asleep or not, but I felt the movement of an insect on my cheek and awoke, being aware enough not to brush it away. I put my hand to my face and it walked onto my index finger. It was the tick. He spoke: “I didn’t think you’d last very long with that wish of yours. It wasn’t a good wish, was it?” In tears, I shook my head. It continued, “Well, I’m glad you made it back to me without complications. I will undo your wish if you like”. “Please, please”, I beseeched the tick, with all the hope I could muster within myself. “OK”, it said. Then he walked to the end of my finger and tumbled down into the soft, dark earth at my feet. (7).

             So much for the wish of a person angry, tired and stressed; a person not willing to take responsibility for his blame of others for his own unwillingness to live his life in accordance with the direction and needs of his own soul. I had lost awareness of my relationships with others and my inherent and integral connection with them. I had stopped allowing myself to be open to others and to be nourished by them. In my fear and distrust I had closed myself off and withheld my love from those whom I loved and who needed me to nourish them in ways greater than only physical survival. I realized I simply could not live in such isolation I had created for myself, and that, if the tick would not “take my wish back,” I would just die. Without my family and friends around me, without those “lifelines” with others, life was not worth living. I knew that I would never seek such a wish of disconnection and/or isolation ever again. I had received my vision in the form of a curse followed by a blessing. This phase of the vision quest ritual relates to the transitional “emergence (giving birth to yourself)” experience in which “you […] emerge from the threshold world as though you were newly born” (Foster & Little 102).

Running down the mountain to the campsite, I found it once again populated. I was thrilled to be alive. I felt like Scrooge awakening on Christmas morning! To continue:    

                                      As I told [Little Bear] my experience, his eyes lit up again and again. When I was finished, he said, “You have strong medicine in your family. Who are your ancestors?” I told him I had a great-grandfather who was a Cherokee medicine man, and he somberly nodded. Then he said, “You yourself have strong medicine. Do you know why I say that?” I didn’t know, and he continued, “I am Little Bear. In the forests and homelands of my people, the bear is king of the forest; the strongest and most formidable creature of all. However, there is only one other creature that has the power to take a bear down, even kill a bear. Do you know what that is?” “No,” I replied. “The tick.” (8).

             This last phase of the vision quest is evidenced in my “return” to Little Bear and the group of which I had been a part. There are several “steps” inherent in “The Return Home,” which include: “Meeting the group,” “The give-away,” “Eating (Communion),” “Farewell to the sacred mountains,” “Washing away the dust of the Sacred World,” “Entering a motor vehicle,” “Entering building, encountering strangers, buying things, eating,” “Home” (Foster & Little 103-105). I reentered the group, the small community waiting for me (“meeting the group”), then shared my vision and even enacted my story with them (“the give-away”), ate a big, delicious breakfast with them (“eating”), and bathed in the cold mountain stream (“washing away the dust of the Sacred World”) (103). Since it was the last day of the journey, I took one last look at the mountain (“farewell to the sacred mountains”), we packed up camp and returned to our vehicles (“entering a motor vehicle”), encountered people and places on the way home (“entering buildings, encountering strangers, buying things, eating”), and finally returned home to my family (“home”) who were wonderfully right there this time (103-105).

             Also present as a part of the vision quest ritual is the act of reuniting with the medicine man at later times to update him on the ongoing effects of one’s vision quest experience. On several occasions I have informally “crossed paths” with Little Bear at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center (which is not far from the vision quest site and his home) and he has always graciously invited me and my family to come to his table and dine and converse with him. Since my vision quest my life has changed immeasurably in both its challenges and its great gifts of “opening.” I remain inspired by the deep experience of the vision quest. Black Elk, the Lakota Sioux medicine man, said, “[A] man who has a vision is not able to use the power of it until after he has performed the vision on earth for the people to see” (103). John Lame Deer, another Lakota Sioux vision seeker, tells us: “Suffering alone brings no vision nor does courage, nor does sheer will power. A vision comes as a gift born of humility, of wisdom, and of patience. If from your vision quest you have learned nothing but this, then you have already learned much” (367).

             Soon after my vision quest, I came to realize my “medicine name”: Mountain Stream. My sense and experience of this name inspired me to write the following poem:

                          Mountain Stream

                          I am the mountain stream,

                                      ice-cold, shocking,

                                      rising from the blind depths of the earth.

                          I am the mountain stream,

                                      babbling relentlessly to myself

                                      as I rush headlong,

                                      bouncing off the walls of my banks.

                          I am the mountain stream,

                                      wetting every inch of  your skin,

                                      shivering every muscle of your body

                                      as you immerse yourself in me.

                          I am the mountain stream,

                                      swollen by winter rains

                                      overflowing my banks,

                                      ferociously pulling down huge trees,

                                      tearing them to shreds.

                          I am the mountain stream,

                                      finding completion,

                                      emptying, vanishing

                                      into the great, deep, dark

                                      still, silent sea.

                          Now mingled, now lost,

                          no longer driven by my furious current;

                          resting in the haven of all

                          mountain streams.

                                                                             (Leone, To Dance… 25)

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