<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="overflow-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">John ~~~~ </span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>~~~~~Thank you for your involvement with the Spirit House Center and those who have </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">come to know you and you them ~~~ You note (below) has touched those who have read it ~~ It </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">is but a slice from your life ~~~~ I say this knowing many other slices of your life ~~ what I dearly </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">and deeply appreciate is that I have been honored to be privy to those chapter as they are slowly being </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">taken from you in the way of death and dying ~~ I have been with many through this process and it </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">is with sincere humble regard to you that I sent this note of gratitude for all the ways in which I have been </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">honored to know you and walk together as we have~. </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">~ The story you weave for us below speaks to areas and territories and cultures very few of us know~. </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">You send your note to a group of souls you do not fully know and reveal your vulnerability to a group </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">of people who also ask the same question as you ~ “Who am I here?” and “How do I fit?” ~~ perhaps </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">it is a question held by all of humanity... ~~~ this and other groups gather to examinee it together and </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">of course other questions along this line as well~. The Doctors say you will be dead soon~… there is </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">a stark reality in saying this ~~ The Great Mystery is present in your words ~ Many do not want to </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">approach such a statement, while others revel in the Mastery but soon find sober realizations the death </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">is knocking at their door or the door of a loved one ~~~ You are not hiding this ~ thank you for being </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">on the Tues. / Frii. zoom when you can~. Your presence and your comments are welcomed ~ you are </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">seemingly one step closer to the inevitable and yet as we all stand in the same life-line we never really know </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">who’s turn is next... ~~~~~~ One thing I know about your well written and beautiful story that is not written </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;">is that the canoe trip you are talking about was a 700 mile trip ~~ That would be from S.F. to L.A. and </div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 16px;"><br></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="3">back ~ rarely travelled ~ and certainly not the faint of heart ~ You are not faint of heart either~.</font></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="3"><br></font></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="3">You are amazing John ~ thank you for all you share in truth and authenticity~!🙏</font></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="3"><br></font></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="3"> Please keep paddling… and writing... ~~~~~~~ Only Love, ~Ron</font></div><div><br><blockquote type="cite"><div>On 9 May 2024, at 9:25 a.m., John Ivey via Thespiritexpress <thespiritexpress@lists.mcn.org> wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div><div dir="ltr"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"> </p><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif">5-9-24.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif">I have shown up on the
periphery of a group of people who have roots in the soil of Coastal California.
A small online gathering occurs via electronic airwaves and I have been invited
to participate.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif">I am not even sure what this
group of souls is. Who am I here? How do I fit?</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"> </span><span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:14pt">And even as I arrived, I
approached knowing that disease is draining my life force. The doctors all say
I will be dead soon.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:14pt">I approached and first met Ron
in a ceremonial setting in the Kiva that he has created.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"> </span><span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:14pt">Sense that moment communication
with Ron and this group which he anchors has become important and significant
in my life.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"> </span><span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:14pt">As I watch the dissipation of
this body and the life force sustaining it I want to offer something back to
this community that I do not fully comprehend but which has fully embraced me. On
that note I offer this story of a trip I once took.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><br></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">I experience a very different kind of
community and awareness when I cross the international border into Canada from
Alaska and am able to spend time with my friends in Whitehorse YT. This is
partly due to the fact that these associations originated from my 11 years as a
staff member at a Buddhist community in Trinity County Ca. These are people who
traveled there for retreat and/or Buddhist teachings. My function there was one
of caretaker; for the physical plant, the land, the animals and the subtle energies
which inhabit the land. I also cared for the human beings who traveled through
or lived on the land.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">As a group of committed people, we had
certain deeply developed relationships with the land we were on, each other and
spiritual practice. We grew food. We grew home. We milled
lumber from the forest. We built buildings. We created irrigation. My
granddaughter was born on that land.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">We all believed that together we were
nurturing sustainable relationship with the wholeness of all, rooted in
soil, place and earth. The end came suddenly. Unexpectedly. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Perhaps the greatest lesson for me is yet to
find peace accepting that end. This is a work I have still to embrace. Some
form of ignorance clouds my view. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">That sudden end has left me with a confused
and unresolved grief. I turn to Wildness for healing and to remember the
wholeness of all.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">In many ways I am still that misplaced Irish
potato farmer running across North America to escape the famine and poverty,
charging the “Frontier”, conquering, subduing all in my rush to find security
and “New Home”. I have crossed the frontier. I have been to the end of land.
There is a road there now.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">The road ends at the Arctic Ocean in a
moonscape of ice, frozen earth, neon vapor lighting, steel frame buildings,
monster machines crawling, and oil derricks blowing flame into an endless
Arctic night, as far as the eye can see.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">The magic of the Aurora Borealis and the vast
Universe from which it originates are still accessible. But you must travel
backward to find them.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Thinking again of the international boarder.
It was a powerful spiritually healing experience to arrive in the United States
of America from another country and culture alone in a 16-foot canoe surrounded
by boreal forest and tundra; well north of the Arctic Circle.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">The River!</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">You could place five Californias in the
drainage basin of the Yukon River, and still have room for Reno. I traveled for
two weeks alone from another country and had yet to reach Alaska when 190,000
thousand caribou began to cross my river.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Bulls! Antlers broad and branched, in tattered
shreds of bloody velvet plunged, swimming with head high dignity as if water
and land knew no separation. They are the land come alive. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Calves! Splayed legged, gangling, necks
stretched forward, eager snouts and faces trained on their mothers bounding
white rumps found themselves immersed. Hooves paddling with natural instinct in
the rivers wild and strong pull. They are life becoming. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Five hundred animals at the sweep of an eye on
one rivers bend. Float among them. Embrace. The Porcupine heard on the
Porcupine River and still 300 river miles from the Yukon. The drainage of this
tributary alone would hold one California.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">The image of a man called Billy John arises in
my mind. I met him at his fish camp above Old Crow. A man of the Vuntut
Gwitchin people he is one who hallooed me from the river bank and insisted with
waving arms that I paddle to his take out. These camps are all of a most rustic
nature with hand built cabins and drying racks for fish and game meat. I was
hallooed into several of them over a couple of days as I approached Old Crow.
Everybody had hot coffee on and insisted that I be fed. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">I beached that canoe and we climbed the bank.
Billy John turned out to be an 84-year-old man. He had fresh caribou hanging
and salmon in the smoker. His rifle lay on a table within easy reach of the
cabin door. I can't remember his wife's name but she was sitting in a wheel
chair wrapped from head to toe in the afternoon sun on the bluff above the
river. I reached out as if to shake her hand at introduction. This old woman
took my hand in both of her's and I found myself captured. The capture moved
from hands through toothless smile to eyes that seemed to hold the shimmering
magic of a full on aroural display. She never spoke a word. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">I am reminded of a term that I learned from
another culture entirely. Dharshan, is Sanskrit in origin and the meaning I
came to understand was to find oneself in the presence of a spiritually
accomplished person and receiving blessing on a plane beyond ordinary mind. I
felt that I came to know the meaning of that word in a deeper way in that
woman's grasp.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Billy John paused for that moment. Inside the
cabin we shared food and coffee. He spoke of just returning from his older
brother’s funeral. "All the Elders are dying." I heard those words,
yet I am sure I do not have the depth to grasp the real meaning of his
gaze as he spoke. I did hear myself say, "Perhaps now, you are the
Elder." He shifted his eyes from a distant horizon I could not see, found
my own and responded. "Yes. Now I must be the Elder."</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">I filled myself on the generosity
of people I may never be able to understand. Soon, strong water bore me
on. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Three days later, I paddled away from the warm
embrace of a people who spoke directly saying “We don’t just eat the Caribou.
We are the Caribou”. I traveled alone from such a simple yet profound grasp of
the interdependence of all that lives, toward my own confusion in the
techno/modern world.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Some days after leaving the village of Old
Crow, on a blustery stormy afternoon as white caps on the widening Porcupine
River threatened to swamp my canoe; I lined it along a muddy and swampy river
bank. Across the mouth of a side slough on a high spruce covered bluff a small
trappers cabin appeared out of the wind driven mist. As afternoon moved toward
evening I found myself comfortable from the storm drying wet socks beside a
wood stove. I cooked food.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Bursting open suddenly the cabin door was
filled with the silhouette of a man! “This my cousins cabin!” The words
rolled out like warm honey on the wood stoves radiance. He filled the small
cabin with his voice, in that broad, full, slow way that is the interior
native’s adaptation of the English language. He stepped into the dim light,
surveyed the situation. I could see other men gathering behind him in the
fading twilight. He leaned over me, a slight trace of alcohol on his breath,
“This is my cousins cabin”. Glancing at the others over his shoulder he looked
back, he beamed a bit, “It’s OK if you stay here. we’re from Fort Yukon and
we’re going to Old Crow for a wedding”</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">I felt the hair on the back of my neck and the
tension in my belly relax. We had a bit of a visit before the two-boat party
blasted off up river into the night with powerful outboard motors and lights.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;line-height:normal;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial;font-size:11pt;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"> </span></p><div style="margin: 0in; line-height: normal; background-image: initial; background-position: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">As I relaxed into my sleeping bag I thought of
that boarder, that straight surveyed line, which we of European descent find so
significant. That international boarder I had crossed two days before. I
thought of all the separations created by human mind and
rigid belief. I realized that all of it had little meaning for those
whose ancestors had made this river land home since “the beginning of time.”
The village of Fort Yukon is in Alaska USA. The village of Old Crow is in Yukon
Territory, Canada. The marriage of river, river people and the unspoiled
wholeness of Wild Earth know of no straight-line separation.</span></div></div>
_______________________________________________<br>Thespiritexpress mailing list<br>Thespiritexpress@lists.mcn.org<br>https://lists.mcn.org/mailman/listinfo/thespiritexpress<br></div></blockquote></div><br></div></body></html>