John Wisdomkeeper - Along the Red Road

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9781772990331

Kindle 9781772990348

WEB 9781772990355

Print ISBN 9781772990362

Copyright 2016 John Makowski and Judith Pittman

Cover Art Michelle Lee

Illustrations Mike Brodie

All rights reserved. Without limiting therights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publicationmay be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without theprior written permission of both the copyright owner and the abovepublisher of this book.

Illustrations by MikeBrodie

Twenty years ago on New Years Eve, I foundmyself, broke alone and freezing in Northern British Columbia. Mybody shook and my brain burned from years of drinking and doingdrugs.

Help me, Grandfather. I cried out to myancestors.

Your answers will come from the spiritworld. I followed grandfathers voice into the dream time. Theanimals from the forest took me into the great forest. When I awokeGrandfather stood over me. Steam rose from where his feet touchedthe snow covered ground. It was freezing, but I felt onlywarmth.

We will go into the high country.Grandfather said. You will remain there for as long as it takes toclean the poisons out of your body. The spirits will help youcleanse your soul. Pick up your things, we will go now.

This will be your home for the wintermonths. Grandfather lifted the flap of the teepee. Inside iseverything you need to live the way your ancestors have lived sinceancient times. At first you will be alone. When you are ready thespirits will come and share their stories.

In the forest you will find everything youneed to sustain life and nourish your soul. You can gather rootsand berries to feed your body, and take the hide I have left inyour bag and fashion it into a hand drum. When you have completedthe drum, and if your meditations have been true, the drum willcall the spirits from the spirit world to come and share theirstories. You must be patient. They will come when you areready.

Day after day I gathered berries and rootsfor sustenance and night after night I sang my songs to thespirits. One afternoon when I had been in the forest for many days,a sense of peace flowed into the circle where I sat in front of mycampfire. I picked up my hand drum, and began to sing a traditionalsong to the spirits of the mist. A pack of coyotes moved close intothe circle and my brothers the ravens flew into the trees above me;squirrels and small birds climbed along the logs and a small mouseappeared at my feet. After my song was completed I closed my eyesand shared with the Great Spirit my words of gratitude for theexperience. As the cold wind blew around me, father sun movedacross my face and took away the chill from my body. When I openedmy eyes again, the mist was gone and so were the spirits. I wasalone once again in the silence of the forest.

The weeks passed into months and life settledinto a pattern of days fishing and gathering and nights carving mypipe and playing songs on the hand drum I had made during my firstmonth of healing.

One night, as I crouched in front of mycampfire, a sense of peace flowed into my circle and I looked up tosee that several of the animals had gathered round. The campfireflared and the spirits of the ancestors moved into the circle.Immediately I picked up my hand drum and began to sing atraditional song. The coyotes took their places around the circleand my brothers the ravens flew back into the trees. I offered sometobacco to the Grandfather Moon and lifted my new pipe and offeredthe smoke to the Great Creator and the Spirits of the four greatdirections.

In the morning I began myjourney. My travels took me to the Ocean where I found a largeAbalone shell. The shell represented healing, and as I watched thewaves crash the shore I saw the vision of my own torments inlife.

Another time I watched eagles gliding inlarge circles, and then flying back to a pine tree where there wasa nest of young waiting to be fed. From the eagles I learned thegift of nurturing. In the rocks I found eagle feathers, and besidethem a large spider with a web spun from the feathers to the rocks.The spider had trapped a bug in its web, wrapped it with silk, andheld it fast. I reached into my pocket and offered tobacco andasked the spider to loosen her web, then I reached down and thespider lifted her web to free the feathers.

Next I traveled into the Okanagan territory,where the sagebrush grows. I brought with me the abalone shell andthe eagle feathers, and some sage I had gathered in the interior. Itook them to an ancient burial ground, high over Okanagan Lake.There I placed the sage into the shell, and built a fire. Then Itook the feather and fanned the sage until the smoke rose and Iscooped up great handfuls of the smoke which I used to cleansemyself. I brushed the smoke over my eyes, so that I could see in agood way. I brushed the smoke on my ears, so that I would hear onlygood things. I brushed my mouth and took a deep breath of smoke, sothat I would speak only good words, I brushed my shoulders so thatI would not carry the burdens of the past. I brushed my legs sothat I would travel in safety and go in the right direction inlife. Lastly I brushed the smoke in all four sacred directions andsaid a prayer for all the spirit beings who live on mother earthand beyond, as well as all the elements and the people of the fourgreat races. I asked that day that my soul and spirit would bewelcome to travel the great journey into the spirit world wheneverI needed answers to guide me in my teachings.

When I was done with the cleansing ceremony Itook the rock and smudged out the fire in the shell and buried theashes in the ground, back to mother earth. Finally I was ready tooffer myself to be used for meeting the needs of my people.

In the hills around Okanagan Lake Valley is aplace called Bear Creek. As I hiked through these rocks, the echoof fast rushing water vibrated like thousands of flutes playing tothe rushing waterfalls that all flowed into one giant lake. One dayI mediated on a large rock in the middle of the Creek - the onlyaccess being to jump a log jutting into the water. Opening my eyesto father sky, I watched crows chase a golden eagle. The eagleflowed upward in ever expanding circles, and the crows followed,but the eagle flew higher and higher. A fine mist rose from therocks and powerful medicine herbs waved in the gentle breezes. Thesweet smell of Lavender and the pungent tang of pine filled theair. When I stopped and listened closely I heard the footsteps ofthe ancestors passing through the canyon - stepping from stone tostone - as they followed the game trails.

One day a white brother came to visit fromTexas - a police officer - who loved the culture as I do, andwanted to share the pipe with some of the Native brothers. Weclimbed a trail through a ravine of rocks to an old sacredclearing. At the entrance to the clearing--a circle of rockscovered by moss and surrounded by juniper and Saskatoon bushes--westopped and I offered tobacco, asking the ancestors to welcome ourvisitor. The winds stopped, and a peace settled over the clearing,inviting our entrance. We sat together, on the ground, waiting forsome brothers who were pipe carriers to join us.