This I originally published here in 2009. My wife handed me the copy of this on paper that I printed out for her to read today. She had it with her files in one of her business filing cabinets. I felt touched to read this again and to share this with you. I studied with a Blackfoot-Sioux Medicine man in Northern California between 1980 and 1983 including a 4 day vision quest (96 hours without any water or food at all) where you only pray, sleep and have visions during this time. I learned that humans are much more than most people believe naturally and that most humans don't have any idea about 90% of their potential abilities as humans. The main reason most people don't develop 90% of their actual abilities is civilization as it is takes them in the opposite direction as this with complete sensory overload with things that really aren't useful to know about. (as far as actually staying alive and healthy in all situations).
Monday, February 2, 2009
Ancient Cellular Communication
Monday, February 2, 2009
As a shaman I learned that people communicate with their whole beings. I learned that people communicate through the cells of their bodies. Some people describe this as genetic memory. Some call it tribal memory of the lives of our ancestors.
BEAR CLAWS
Note: After I wrote this piece, I realized I had experienced some ancient part of my past in a dream. I have tried to be true to the nature of this story.
Begin:
I have no name because we don't use words much. However, I carry a bear claw from a bear my tribe and I killed with spears. Each of the 8 of us kept one claw from the bear after we ate it and scraped the flesh from the skin. We made rain and snow back warmers for when we are out away from a cooking fire.
Tomorrow we go hunting for food. Two of the other hunters of the tribe will go to hunt deer. Our food larder is low so we must hunt again. I am about 25 years old. However, since most men die before 30 years of age, by accident or just wearing out, my life likely is already over half over. So we live quickly and suck all the marrow from our meat so we can live through another winter. Who knows what winter will be our last?
As we embark, the frost is on everything so we must walk carefully so we don't slip and pull a muscle or sprain an ankle in these conditions. We are men well accustomed to these hardships so we don't even think of them as hardships, just as a normal part of life.
You might think there is no joy to a life like this. However, you would be wrong. All the hunters of our tribe are like brothers. Any of us would die for the other. And this morning we three hunters all start off believing that all will go well.
Soon we spot our prey. A small herd of deer is in the glade nearby. Since we hunt mostly with long spears with rock or shell spear points we must form a circle around the deer and one of us must drive the deer into our spears.
However, this morning all goes wrong. I am the driver of the deer this day into my brothers’ spears. While I drive the deer, a nearby Grizzly that we didn't notice because he was downwind, decides to get territorial. We scream at the bear and tell him it is our deer and our kill. But he does not listen. I can see why. A human made spear protrudes from the left shoulder of the bear. The bear is angry with all humans because of the pain he is experiencing.
We scream at the bear with our sounds and minds, "Oh, powerful bear, we did not put our spear into you. It is not us you should be angry with." But the bear is too crazy from the pain to listen and he maims one of our hunters and then crushes his skull while we scream and terrorize the bear to protect our fallen comrade. Now the bear has three spears total in him. He has two in his chest and the original one in his left shoulder. Now there are only two of us in proper fighting stance. We push the bear away from our fallen comrade with my spear with both of us pushing with the spear to give it more strength in each pierce. Also, we don't want to lose our last spear into the bear’s hide before he dies for then we would die too. We see the bear slipping. His moves are becoming more sluggish. Finally, since we believe the bear is finished we push the remaining spear in deep near his heart. But he rises up one more time and falls on us with a death roar. The bear’s intense weight immediately crushes my comrade and breaks all his ribs. I look to my friend and struggle to move the bear’s body so my friend can feel safe as he dies. Finally, as I move the last part of the bear, the bear’s death reflex maims my leg with the claws of his right front paw and I fall back screaming because now I might die too today.
The bear is now completely dead. I have pushed the bear’s carcass off my dying friend. I touch foreheads with him so I can return whatever parts of his spirit to my tribe and to his wife that I can. He dies. I take his extra leather strap to stop the bleeding on my wounded leg. It is not spurting blood too bad so I think if I can build a little fire and heat up a rock I can seal the wound with fire heat from the rock. I can cauterize the wound so it won't infect. However, I can't walk for now without bleeding to death. I crawl to the bear and remove all the spears that are intact and the spear with the broken off shaft. However, I'm in a lot of pain. I'm near a stream and there are willow trees there. If I chew some willow bark, the juices in the bark will deaden the pain.
I crawl back to my fallen comrades and build a fort of their bodies on one side with the bear carcass on the other. I place one spear out on the shoulder of each dead man to look like a hunting party with a kill. I must show strength especially if a rival tribe comes by. I gather a few twigs and build a fire. It's not much but it's the best I can do for now. I use my obsidian knife carefully as it is brittle to cut the bear skin away and lean against the bear while using the flap to stay warm while I sleep. Tomorrow will be a very long day. I must cover the bodies of my dead comrades with rocks so marmots and wolves and coyotes don’t eat them. My tribe would not let me live unless I did this for them.
I call out to the spirit of the bear. I say, "Oh Bear. We did not want you to die. You attacked us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves. We did not wish you dead. You left us no choice. It took three of our spears and one of another human to kill you. You are a mighty warrior and of this you should be proud, just as we are proud to have fought someone as powerful as you. You honor us to fight us in this way. If I can live to get back to the village, we will sing of you in our ways. You will be Mighty Bear killer of two fine hunters and you maimed me too. Likely you killed the owner of the first spear that was broken off in you when we found you."
The night is long and the spirits of my two dead comrades haunt me. They say, "Please tell our families that we died well and fought hard. Tell our stories. We died with honor protecting each other and our tribe."
I cry for the loss of my warrior friends. The tribe will not easily replace such a loss. Hopefully my leg wound won't permanently cripple me. If that happened, I might have to wander away and freeze to death alone one night or not return to the tribe at all. However, I'm obligated by tribal law to try to return and tell the story as best I can with pictures I draw in the dirt and with sign language. I cut off three claws from the bear and place them alongside the single claws we all wear on a leather cord around our necks, so the men will be buried with two bear claws each around their necks.
All night I prayed to the Forest God who protects my tribe from harm. I asked the Forest God to watch over our tribe with three warriors less tonight to protect them from marauding animals or raiding parties from other tribes.
I also asked the Forest God to protect me so I could get home to my tribe, my family, and my children somehow tomorrow.
At daybreak I cooked some bear meat to give me strength and crawled around until I could gather rocks. Later on, I fashioned a wooden crutch so I could hobble along better. With my spear in one hand and my crutch in another I could walk even though it was painful. Every so often I put my back to a tree and asked each friendly tree to share some strength with me so I could make it home. In return I promised each of these trees I would never cut them down in thanks for the strength they gave me to go on.
Finally, on the horizon I heard noise from someone who spied me. Many came running seeing me alone walking with a crutch and spear.
Howls of pain, anger and rage escaped the mouths of my tribesmen and women and children. Soon, most of us were crying and grateful that at least I had survived. I drew pictures on the ground and with sign language conveyed what had happened. Ten men and older boys went out to retrieve the two bodies of my tribesmen and the carcass of the bear and his hide. We would immortalize the Grizzly Bear in our stories, so future generations would learn never to wound a bear and leave it to kill more people. This was the lesson that future tribes people would learn.
It took me about 6 months to walk right again. Most of that time I had to drag my right leg with my toe pointed toward the other leg. But after a time, my leg healed enough so the torn muscles reattached to the bone. My leg looked strange and I learned to turn my right foot away from the other leg to retrain the muscles of my right calf to move my leg forward. Except for the strange wound and scars from the bear’s claws I could walk normally.
Through my story, I became known as Bear Claws because of my scars and also because of the bear claws worn by the two tribesmen who were put on their burial platforms to be eaten by birds and to fly away with their spirits to our tribal heaven. The bones of the Grizzly were nearby their burial platforms, for the bear had fought the good fight and had given my friends a warrior’s death which for the men in my tribe is the preferred way to die.
I became an old man and my hair turned gray and then white and still they called me Bear Claws, the warrior who survived to tell the story. Eventually I became a Medicine Man because the experience had changed me and I spent a lot of time in the spirit world after my friends died. I learned to heal people from the Bear spirit and the Forest God and learned to save the lives of many of my tribe before I died. Luckily, I taught my skills to a boy and a girl, brother and sister so they could heal the tribe after I left to live with the Bear spirit and my Tribe on the other side with our Forest God.
note: this ends wife's edit.
This is straight out with one minor edit by me. much more raw and with errors but carries a more primal essence. However, I still like my wife's edit above.
since Ancient Cellular communication 1,2,3,or 4 or more I might use for other attempts at this kind of writing this particular piece I call:
BEAR CLAWS
fiction? Note: after I wrote this I realized as I was visited by this spirit in my dreams that night that this was a prehistoric past life of mine. end note.
I thought I would try to write something that would be somewhat like I envision and intelligent man before writing or possibly even verbal communication. In order to do this, I don't really see a way other than to use present day ideas, words and concepts so the communications make sense. Also, all communications are telepathic except for some other low gutteral sounds and grunting and high pitch sounds and stuff.
Begin:
I have no name because we don't use words much. However, I carry a bear claw from a bear my tribe and I killed with spears. Each of the 8 of us kept one claw from the bear after we ate it and scraped the flesh from the skin. We made rain and snow back warmers for when we are out away from a cooking fire.
Tomorrow we go hunting for food. Two of the other hunters of the tribe will go to hunt deer. Our food larder is low so we must hunt again. I am about 25 years old. However, since most men die before 40 years of age by accident or just wearing out my life likely is already over half over. So we live quickly and suck all the marrow from our meat so we can live through another winter. Who knows what winter will be our last?
As we embark the frost is on everything so we must walk carefully so we don't slip and pull a muscle or sprain an ankle in these conditions. We are men well accustomed to these hardships so we don't even think of them as hardships, just as a normal part of life.
You might think there is no joy to a life like this. However, you would be wrong. All the hunters of our tribe are like brothers. Any of us would die for the other. And this morning we all start off believing that all will go well.
Soon we spot our prey. A small herd of deer is in the glade nearby. Since we hunt mostly with long spears with rock or shell spear points we must form a circle around the deer and one of us must drive the deer into our spears.
However, this morning this all goes wrong. I am the driver of the deer this morning into my compatriots spears. However, as I drive the deer a nearby Grizzly that we didn't notice because he was downwind decides to get territorial. We scream at the bear and tell him it is our deer and our kill. But he does not listen. I can see why. A human made spear protrudes from the left shoulder of the bear. The bear is angry at all humans because of the pain he is experiencing.
We scream at the deer with our sounds and minds, "Oh, powerful bear. we did not put our spear into you. It is not us you should be angry with." But the bear is too crazy from the pain to listen and he maims one of our hunters and then crushes his skull while we scream and terrorize the bear to protect our fallen comrade. Now the bear has three spears total in him. He has two in his chest and the original one in his left shoulder. Now there are only two of us in proper fighting stance. we push the bear away from our fallen comrade with my spear with both of us pushing with the spear to give it more strength in each pierce. Also, we don't want to lose our last spear into the bears hide before he dies for then we would die too. We see the bear slipping. His moves are becoming more silly. Finally, since we believe the bear is finished we push the remaining spear in deep near his heart. But he raises up one more time and falls on us with a death roar. The bears intense weight immediately crushes my comrade and breaks all his ribs. I look to my friend and struggle to move the bears body so my friend can feel safe as he dies. Finally, as I move the last part of the bear, the bears death reflex maims my leg with the his right front paw claws and I fall screaming because now I might die too today.
The bear is now completely dead. I have pushed the bears carcass off my dying friend. I touch foreheads with him so I can return whatever parts of his spirit to my tribe and to his wife that I can. He dies. I take his extra leather strap to stop the bleeding on my wounded leg. It is not spurting blood too bad so I think if I can build a little fire and heat up a rock I can seal the wound with fire heat from the rock. I can cauterize the wound so it won't infect. However, I can't walk for now without bleeding to death. I crawl to the bear and remove all the spears that are intact and the spear with the broken off shaft. However, I'm in a lot of pain. I'm near a stream and there are willow trees there. If I chew some willow bark(primitive aspirin) the juices in the bark will deaden the pain.
I crawl back to my fallen comrades and build a fort of their bodies on one side and the bear carcass on the other. I place one spear out on the shoulder of each dead man to look like a hunting party with a kill. I must show strength especially if a rival tribe comes by. I gather a few twigs and build a fire. It's not much but it's the best I can do for now. I use my obsidian knife carefully as it is brittle to cut the bear skin away and lean against the bear while using the flap to stay warm while I sleep. Tomorrow will be a very long day. I must cover the bodies of my dead comrades with rocks so birds and marmots and wolves and coyotes don't eat them. My tribe would not let me live unless I did this for them.
I call out to the spirit of the bear. I say, "Oh Bear. We did not want you to die. You attacked us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves. We did not wish you dead. You left us no choice. It took three of our spears and one of another human to kill you. You are a mighty warrior and of this you should be proud. Just as we are proud to have fought someone as powerful as you. You honor us to fight us in this way. If I can live to somehow get back to the village we will sing of you in our ways. You will be Mighty Bear killer of two fine hunters and you maimed me too. Likely you killed the owner of the first spear that was broken off in you when we found you."
The night is long and the spirits of my 2 dead comrades haunt me. They say, "Please tell our families that we died well and fought hard. Tell our stories. We died with honor protecting each other and our tribe."
I cry for the loss of my warrior friends. The tribe will not easily replace such a loss. Hopefully my leg wound won't permanently cripple me. If that happened I might have to wander away and freeze to death alone one night or not return to the tribe at all now. However, I'm obligated by tribal law to return and tell the story as best I can with pictures I draw in the dirt and with sign language. I cut off one claw from the bear and place it alongside the single claw we all wear on a leather cord around our necks. So the men will be buried with two bear claws each around their necks.
All night I prayed to the Forest God who protects my tribe from harm. I asked the forest god to watch over our tribe with three warriors less tonight to protect them from marauding animals or raiding parties from other tribes.
I also asked the Forest God to protect me so I could get home to my tribe, my family, my children somehow tomorrow.
At daybreak I cooked some bear meat to give me strength and crawled around until I could gather rocks. Later on, I fashioned a wooden crutch so I could hobble along better. With my spear in one hand and my crutch in another I could move okay even though it was painful. Every so often I put my back to a tree and asked each friendly tree to share some strength with me so I could make it home. In return I promised each of these trees I would never cut them down in return for the strength they gave me to go on.
Finally, on the horizon I heard a noise which came from someone who spied me. Many came running seeing me walking with a crutch and spear alone. Howls of pain, anger and rage escaped the mouths of my tribesmen and women and children. Soon, most of us were crying and grateful that at least I had survived. I drew pictures on the ground and with sign language conveyed what had happened and ten men and older boys went out to retrieve the two bodies of my tribesmen and the carcass of the bear and his hide. We would immortalize the Grizzly Bear in our stories. So future generations would learn to never wound a Bear and not get more people to kill it. This was the lesson that future tribes people would learn.
It took me about 6 months to walk right again. Most of that time I had to drag my leg with my toe pointed to the other leg. But after a time, my leg healed enough so the torn muscles though they made my leg look a little strange where I could turn my right foot away from the other leg to train the muscles in my right leg with each step until except for the strange wound and scars from the bears claws I could walk normally. Because of this story I became known as Bear Claws because of my scars and because of the claws my two tribesmen were put on their dying platforms with to be eaten by birds and to fly away with their spirits to our tribal heaven. The bones of the Grizzly were nearby their dying platforms for the bear had fought the good fight and had given my friends warriors deaths which for the men in my tribe is the preferred way to die.
When I became an old man and my hair turned gray and then white still they called me Bear Claws, the warrior who survived to tell the story. Eventually they made me a medicine man because the experience changed me so much and I spent a lot of time in the spirit world after my friends died. I learned to heal from the Bear spirit and the Forest God and learned to save the lives of many of my tribe before I died. Luckily, I taught my skills to a boy and a girl, brother and sister so they could heal the tribe after I left to live with the Bear spirit and my Tribe on the other side with our Forest God.
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