This question of the week was a good one for me. It gives me a good chance to write about something I have not told many people. It definitely was a pivotal moment in my life. It made me realize at a young age that we truly are all connected. It showed me the power of love, kindness and empathy. At the end of the trip I would share a moment with someone that I would never forget.
First you may be wondering why is an Atheist writing about profound spiritual moments? Let me explain. One I don't particularly like that label but when pushed about my belief in God I often use the term "Spiritual Atheist". I don't believe in a traditional God in a religious sense. I am not religious. I do find beauty and great truths in many teachings such as Buddhism. I am comfortable knowing I don't know what happens when we die. I try to keep an open mind. Honestly this world is so amazing and beutiful if this is all there is. I am fine with that.
So what is Spirituality to me? To me it is a universal human experience. It is the ability to ponder our own existence. It is a sense of connection to self, each other and the natural world around us. It is seeking and expressing meaning and purpose. It is a pure connectedness to the moment.
To tell this story is going to take some time so dear reader please stick with me.
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When I was only 11 years old my mother took my sister and I on a trip around the United States in a Volkswagon pop top Van. This was no small feat in the mid 1970's for a single mother. It had been her father's dream and then hers. She was not going to let it slip away. And so she sold the house and off we went. Camping along the way we hit every state other than Alaska. We sang untraditional car songs including "Sodmy" and "Manchester England, England." from the movie" Hair" which my mom took us to see before we left.
If you can picture two kids and a mom singing their hearts out to the Sodomy song from Hair, that was us in 1977.
I could write forever about this trip, the good bad and the ugly. One thing that happened to me was constant harassment for my long hair. It did not take long for me to get out of our bubble in liberal Santa Cruz Ca and find ourselves at a campground in Texas with signs posted that you were not allowed in as a male with hair past your ears. Mine was halfway down my back. At first it was mostly old ladies giving me grief. "Are you a girl?" "why is your hair so long?" One day visibly upset my mother gave me the perfect answer for this particular group. " tell them Jesus had long hair." she said. I took this advice and it worked well.
"I never!" said the lady. "You should some time." I replied. This did not last.
Soon after I found myself in the men's room at a truck stop in Texas surrounded by rednecks who pushed me around a bit and gave me hell for my hair. I knew no words would work here. It was then I sadly relented and had it cut. I did not want so much negative attention on us. My mother couldn't be everywhere. We had not even hit the deep south. My mom let me decide and I choose to have it cut.
This was part of the reason for the trip to see the U.S. the good and the bad. And for six months we did. It was on our way back that we had planned to stop on Colorado to see George Woodard and his family and stay on their ranch.
Pic credit snoopes
George was like a father to me. A mentor. He had been close to my family for a long time. George was a full blooded American Indian. He had spent his life fighting for rights of indigenous people. He was at the second wounded knee, the occupation of Alcatraz and the BIA building in Washington. At the Second Wounded Knee he was one of the people who was helicoptered out to try and broker a peace deal and end the violence. George was strictly non violent and sometimes did not see eye to eye with AIM although he understood them and was respected by them.
We were so excited to be going to see him I remember my mom would often look into the sky and shout " were coming George!"
George had a huge gorgeous ranch that was 350 miles away from anything. He had wild buffalo herds and wild horses. He had all the land you could see in every direction. He lived in a dome shaped house he had built. He lived there with his wife and three children.
When we got there were greated by George his wife, children and a young couple named Cat and Wambli. The children were our age and we immediately hit it off. Cat and Wambli were friends of his we had never met. But within days Wambli and I became good friends. He took me fishing, taught me to shoot a rifle. He took me out in the woods for long hikes and he seemed to enjoy spending time with me. There was something different about Wambli. Something that intrigued me but I couldn't put my finger on it. I asked my mother about Wambli and she mentioned he was a medicine man. The youngest to become one in his tribal history. I would guess he was in his early 20's.
Those three weeks at George's ranch were some of my fondest childhood memories I have. George made an effort to take me with him when he tended to things. Like before we ate, he always made sure the animals ate first. Not just the household pets. There was always a plate made just for the wild critters too. "The Animals always eat first." he would say. We would walk the perimeter of his ranch where it followed the road. George had installed garbage cans to try and stop people from throwing trash. We would empty them and haul away whatever trash we could find. It was on one of these trips I found an injured deer. It had been hit by a car. George was visibly saddened that someone had not bothered to stop. He told me he had to put this deer out of it's misery. But he went out of his way to explain it to me. That we were doing a good thing and with love in our hearts. I have always loved animals yet I don't have any vivid memory of the animal being shot. Only of a man doing the right thing with love and kindness. I remember him speaking to the deer. Calming it it. I don't remember the actual act of it being shot. Then we cleaned it at he saved every usable part.
As our three weeks were coming to an end I started to become i'll. At first just a small fever and sore throat. They made me special tea and everyone seemed more worried than I was. Even Wambli was looking at me concerned. Then I developed a deep cough. I realized later the concern was were were 350 miles from a hospital or even a doctor.
That night sleeping in the pop top of the van my fever spiked to 104 and I awoke having trouble breathing. My sister ran to get help. Suddenly everyone was there. George, his wife, the kids, my Mom, Sister and Cat and Wambli all were outside the van and I somehow ended up on the floor. Everything was blurry. My lungs were full with fluid. I could hear talk outside. Some debating of what to do. Wambli stept up and said he believed he could help me.
Now my mom believed such things were possible but I was literally turning blue and even George's Wife who believed in such healings and had seen it was concerned and said she wasn't sure it was the best call. There was talk of calling a helicopter. Wambli became a bit insistent and my mother decided to let him try.
What happened next, a day never goes by I don't think about it. Wambli approached me and told me he was going to try and help me. He explained this was a two person job and that mine was just as important as his. He said it was sort of like dancing with a partner. He told me what to concentrate on. He told me how his hand would feel when he placed it on my chest. It's been so long I don't remember exactly what I was supposed to concentrate on but I clearly remembering doing it.
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Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash
Wambli put his hand on my chest. He told me it would feel warm and tingly and I would feel a sensation like his hand had slipped inside me. He strongly warned me that he would begin to get ill as I got better but that he knew how to get rid of it and I was not to stop him nor stop myself no matter how bad it seemed until I was all better and breathing perfectly.
I listened to him and began to feel exactly what he said. A warm hand, a tingling sensations and then it was if his hand was a part of me. I don't know how else to explain this. It was an unbelievable sensation.
He kept reminding me to focus on my job. And within about 10 minutes I could hear Wambli was coughing and wheezing horribly. He was clearly getting ill. I could feel the illness leaving me and going to him. I could feel it moving out of me. I began to feel bad for him and he knew it, he said "don't worry about me, i'll be fine do your job and keep concentrating were in this together now". I did as he told me and when the coughing and fluid was gone along with my fever I told him I was better. He clearly was not. And it took some time for him to release that illness from himself. How he did this, or what he did exactly I don't recall. I remember that part as him struggling. Afterwards I was 100% better. I was stunned. As were the gathers outside the camper. Wambli had to go rest and Cat warned us he would be down for several days. He slept for nearly 72 hours. While he was sleeping I was running around feeling perfect. Not the slightest cough or fever. Not even a tickle on my throat. I had never felt so alive.
That moment where we worked together, that was it. That was the most profound spiritual moment of my life. That opened my mind to an entire new world of possibilities. I still don't completely understand it nearly 40 years later. But it opened my eyes and my heart. What made this the most profound moment of many was my age. It opened my eyes early. For that and the whole saving my life part, I am eternally grateful to Wambli.
I have seen others claim to be healers but none were anything like what I witnessed and experienced that night with Wambli.
But I know it's possible. I know this is something people can do. I am a realist to the core I very much need to see something to believe it. And this was something I can not deny happened nor write off as some good luck or power or positive thinking. No, this was more than that.
As I write this I realize that whole time on the ranch was one big profound spiritual moment for the young me. The mealtime prayers and lots of mentoring from both George and Wambli. Instead of not including me due to my age they went out of their way to include me in everything they did. And everything the did was with purpose and meaning. If George was about to light sage he told me why and how he did it.
Sadly George would pass away from cancer shortly after. I was proud to inherit his worry stone. I am deeply deeply ashamed I lost it as a teen. So ashamed I could barely write that down. But it's the truth. Handed down for generations and lost by a stupid teenager. This battered photo of George is all I have left.
George Woodard
We were all devastated that his funeral was not how he wanted it to be. The US Govt would not allow it. By his beliefs his body would be left in the woods on a structure made of branches where he would become part of nature. Instead he was buried in San Jose. His wife and family simply did not have the will to fight the red tape. It was a losing battle. Reporters came to snap pictures of his body at the ceremony. This infuriated me as it was against his beliefs and I lost it and broke some reporters camera by throwing it on the floor. Lucky for me i was still a kid. And my mother understood exactly why I had done this. There were no more pictures after that.
I never saw Wambli or Cat after the funeral. I heard tale he was up north fighting for tribal fishing waters in the 1980's.
Peace
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