Sand Mountain, Nevada
A
Real Chief
He had that iconic or classic look of a
wise Native American Chief, in fact he is a Native American Chief—Chief Johnny
Bobb, of the Shoshone tribe, his long whitish hair, pony-tailed, frames his
face. He came out of his car and offered
some prayers in his language because he understood from my walking purpose that
I could use help.
“Just face the sun,” he said. So I did, and then he tossed water in various
directions saying prayers—mantras.
“What does it mean?” I asked after he was
finished.
“May your legs and feet be strong. May you be protected and be successful in
your forward journey ahead.” He offered
me a sage brush stick for good luck.
That was so
sweet. I shared with him the maha-mantra. I believe we had a mutual good wish for each
other. And while I met the chief, I pondered
on the whereabouts of the balance of our party—Hayagriva and Marshall. Apparently they were at Sand Mountain, a two
mile long, six hundred foot high dune.
The support van’s wheels got stuck in that sand, which explained the
delay. https://instagram.com/p/BYYXlWmlD7U/
With the sun
blasting today at 100° Fahrenheit, my umbrella is necessary. Mystically, objects to shield that merciless
sun manifest. A group of bikers speed
by. Accidentally, one of the biker’s
goggle shades came rolling down to my feet.
They’re cool, with a strap. Further
down the road, I see three sets of sun glasses that were rejected and thrown in
the ditch. Hmm! There’s three of us!
Despite the heat
I believe to be smart with the feet.
Chase the right hours and dodge the inferno.
May the Source be
with you!
25 miles
No comments:
Post a Comment