Water and Music



It is five in the morning. I stand on a beach and gather light in my yes and my mind. It is not a normal beach but rather one with a bed of small round stones. They have no color yet, but promise to gather some as the sun rises.

There is a hint of pink on the horizon but no real light. The stars remain visible above the sea. Among them is the phenomenon of the Milky Way. It rises from the sea; upward and to the right, continuing towards the heavens until it disappears. There is not a clear demarcation of its trajectory. The lower parts of the Milky Way appear as stars – – although a bit muted. As my eyes follow its path the stars join together and lose their granularity; they become a giant cloud. This cloud has upper and lower limits which define it

There is a cliff to my left. It also, like the beach stones, has little color. A minute passes and some light tends to make the cliff a brownish hue. Yes, I can now clearly see its outline. It is not a normal flat cliff but rather one whose geological lineage have given it character. There are fault lines rising from left to right; almost following the path of the Milky Way. The fault lines are irregular, no two separated by the same distance although following the same path. There are a few outcroppings that cantilever out into the night sky.

Out, sitting in the ocean, with its toes on the beach and its heals buried in the water, is a tall rock island. Its birth mother appears to be the cliff. They have the same fault lines and color. Mother and child are separated by eroded rocks that appear to remain behind as the result of the natal event.

There are beach stones that lay beneath my feet, and extend to the area between the cliff and the island. These stones seem to also have been left behind as a result of the birth of the island. However, these have been smoothed by Father Ocean who has given them a personality due to a continuum of waves of advice.

In the distance and to my right a small island appears in the muted sun. The pink on the horizon has turned to white and a thin layer of blue exists between this and the dark sky. The stars within this blue band have disappeared; yet my heart can still feel the Milky Way and my mind contemplates it.

The sea becomes silver as the sun rises farther. The islands and cliff in front of me remain dark and foreboding. I wait for the remainder of the musical and am not disappointed. The small rounded stones appear to gain in color and harmony. I wonder and this wonderment leads me to the memory of a visit I once paid to a mountain stream.

I had a lot of leisure time then. My weekly income from industry gave me time to do the things I always wanted to. One of my desires was to own my own automobile so that I could visit the countryside.

And I did.

I drove for miles and enjoyed every month of it. Some of the roads were unique. One was along an old canal bed. Another went up and down like a roller-coaster (but, of course, not as steep). My favorite mountain road was helical shaped that went around and around as well as up. I enjoyed the feeling of “Déjà Vu” each time I made a left hand turn (which was continuously).

But none of my trips would be as memorable as the one I was on at that moment. It was a two lane macadam road that followed a beautiful mountain stream. I saw an interesting dirt road to my right. A rickety bridge allowed me to cross the stream. The steep mountains closed in on each side as I followed my hood ornament.

Suddenly the mountains parted and I found myself at the edge of a large flat area. It must have been five hundred acres in size and as flat as a postage stamp. The whole plain was covered in grass. It was not normal grass; it was blue. Not the blue of oceans, nor turquoise blue, or the blue color of melancholy. It was not the blue of azure, nor sapphire, nor peacock blue nor the blue of despair. It was the blue of amethyst.

It had the same quality of an amethyst gem; translucent. I departed my car and studied the grass. When I stood up it looked like a dark hue of blue. When I lay down and looked across the top of the grass it looked like the amethyst of an apothecary jar. In either case it was a mesmerizing experience.

I removed my shoes and socks to enjoy the softness of this blue grass. I walked around the amethyst plain for quite some time before I noticed a stream along one side. I ventured down the bank and into the water. The stones on the bottom were all the same size; about the size of an egg. Yet they were rather flat and pleasant to walk on. The stones appeared to have spent quite a bit of time in a giant lapidary tumbler; they were polished.

I reached down and picked one up. It was onyx black with ivory colored large spots here and there. The spots were not clearly demarcated as on a polka-dot dress. They were more like the penumbraic spots on a brook trout.

“PUT ME DOWN” cried a voice from seemingly nowhere.
I looked around but there was no one there.
“Put me down before I die” cried out the voice again.
I scanned the blue grass but saw no one.
“Please, I beg you, put me back in the water or I will expire” came the voice for the third time.

I perceived that the voice might be coming from the stone. I carefully lowered my hand until the stone was under water. Nothing happened. No voice, no movement, no sign of life. After a minute or so I decided that I must have had a day dream in this strange place of amethyst grass and shiny stones with soft ivory spots. I lifted my hand out of the water so that I could once more inspect this strange stone.

“Thanks for putting me back under water” said the stone.
Without thinking I responded “Why sure! Sorry about not listening the first time.”
“Put me back in so I can take a breath” pleaded the stone.
I did as I was asked and then lifted the stone up again. “Are you a real stone or a turtle or a fish?” I asked.
“A stone” said the stone. “Now put me back.”

And so it went for the remainder of the next hour. I dipped the stone in and out of the water while trying to complete a conversation with it.

Finally the stone told me “Walk downstream and you will find a waterfall.”
I followed the stone’s instructions while holding him under water. When I reached the waterfall I lifted the stone up again to ask for farther instructions. The stone said “Hold me under the waterfall. That way I can get enough water to breath and enough air to talk.”
I followed instructions and soon realized why I had heard gurgling sounds at all the waterfalls I had ever visited. It was the sound of stones talking to each other. I wished that I had paid more attention to stones long before this.

“I can now complete what I wished I could have told someone years ago” said the stone. “It is a long story so feel free to ask questions; if you must.
The stone continued “This is the story of a blue grass festival and us who were once called caterwaulers.

“Eons ago in this flat amethyst plain,
Music existed whether in sun or rain,
It echoed on the mountains ag’ane and ag’ane,
While the red summer hawk was carnivorously preyin’.

People came from a’near and afar,
Some by bus, but mostly by car,
Two people brought elixir in a stone jar,
A wanna-be king and a Tennesee tzar.

So the blue-grass music played day and night,
While the clouds rolled by, dark or bright,
Eventually the moon played fiddle (out of sight),
And the night owl prowled in quiet stealthy flight.

The stream rolled by, oblivious of the noise,
Created by those grown-up country girls and boys,
With their banjos, harmonicas, and musical toys,
The audience had elixir and hookahs (their make believe joys).

Summer hawk and night owl with eyes e’spyin’,
Swooping talons exposed, in unison flyin’,
Picked up the singers and musicians (all cryin’),
Each and every one thought they were dyin’,

The winged ones deposited them in mountain stream,
And the caterwauling ebbed to a gurgling scream,
I was involved in that nightmarish dream,
For I was a caterwauler, or so it would seem.

Over the eons minerals invaded our bones,
And turned us into penumbrious stones,
Our caterwaulings are now gurgling moans,
The screeching songs melted into melodious tones.”

The stone then became quiet except for intermittent sobbing. Although I had previously intended to ask questions I avoided hearing any more of the sad story. I carefully placed the stone on the bottom of the stream and fled.

I never heard the voice of the caterwauler again.

©  2017        Copyright Waldo J. Tomosky




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© Waldo Tomosky 8/22/19

Thank God; my title for this essay has caught your attention.
I am not sure where we will end up on these subjects – but – it is another journey that begins with the first step. I say — here – that many journeys never occur due to that mentally painful first step. I also say – here – that this particular first step may also offend close friends.
That is a risk that I am willing to take in order to get this necessary dialogue in motion.
Because I think the subject is overdue. Let us take the first and last items of the title into consideration; Recidivism and Compound Interest. Individually they do not appear to excite the imagination, and, they surely are not controversial. Yet together, their contexts appear to collide with each other.
Compound interest has a positive meaning; however, recidivism has a negative connotation. Therefore, it is difficult to think of both contexts simultaneously without becoming a bit conflicted. To eliminate this conflict let us look at examples individually.
Compound interest is the building of capital, or in some cases debt, that takes into its calculations the amount of interest previously earned on the initial investment. For example, Joe invested $1,000 knowing that he would earn 6% on this investment. At the end of the first year Joe had his initial investment of $1,000 plus the $60 he had earned as interest. Joe decided to leave both the initial investment and the interest in the same account earning the usual 6% interest. At the end of year two Joe had the $1,060 plus $63.60 interest earned on that amount;$1,123,60. Following the same pattern for year three Joe had $1,191.01, year four $1,26247, year five $1,338.22, etc. until year ten where he had $1,790. That is the concept; Joe’s earned interest has earned even more interest; therefore the term ‘compound interest’
How does that compare to recidivism? Let us first look at the official definition of recidivism.
It considers a person’s relapse into criminal behavior; like rate of monetary return, there is the concept of rate of return to criminal behavior. Recidivism, by definition, can only occur after a person receives sanctions or undergoes intervention for a previous crime. Recidivism is measured by criminal acts that resulted in re-arrest, reconviction or return to prison during a specified period following the prisoner’s release. The recidivism typically compounds the amount of time a person spends in prison; on each consecutive re-arrest.
However, criminal behavior is not the only characteristic considered as recidivism. Other types of behavior are also measured in terms of recidivism. Some example behaviors are returning to smoking, alcohol, drugs, obesity and family abuse. Why do I say “returning?” Like criminal recidivism, these negative social/cultural behaviors require that the person exhibiting such behavior must have been in some type of program that offered education on the damage they had done to themselves or others. Therefore, to be considered a recidivist the individual has been given the tools to understand why his behavior has a negative social/cultural impact on others.
When considering ‘social justice’ as opposed to ‘criminal justice’ there are minimal facts or figures except for those common negative behaviors which can be measured by science. Tobacco recidivism and alcohol recidivism are two examples where recidivism has clearly been measured by the health sciences.
On the other hand, I have not observed any data where those — who have received ‘social justice’ — have been measured for rates of recidivism. In fact, ‘social justice’ has a positive connotation so the concept of ‘social justice’ – like monetary interest — once again clashes with the concept of recidivism.
Therefore, I ask; “Should we consider a concept of recidivism for those who we help through ‘social justice?’”.
This is not a difficult question to ask. It is only a difficult question to answer.
Should a church, synagogue or mosque help those who do not help themselves? Of course, the answer is “YES.” Especially for those who suddenly find themselves in dire straits; whether their own fault or not. But the next step is more difficult to address. How do we contemplate the person who has asked his religious organization for financial help and then squandered the opportunity by once again finding himself in dire financial straits? Of course, there may be mitigating factors such as a sick child, widowhood, sudden family break-up/divorce or a psychological problem. These factors will help us reach the correct answer of “is this person a recidivist or not?”.
Do we consider our child a recidivist when we tell him not to stick his hand in the cookie jar? Of course not. We consider him incapable of understanding the message. Therefor the infirm or incapable are not considered as recidivists and multiple opportunities should be conceded. In fact, the thought of considering recidivism as a clinical term when viewing our own child’s actions is repulsive. The thought of considering the acts of a criminal is hardly so.
Once again, I clarify; the individual must have accepted some act of ‘social justice’ to assist him in pursuing a new path in order to live a normal, productive life; otherwise he is not a recidivist.
This brings us to the crux of the problem.
How should we consider those who have been given some sort of ‘social justice’ – as opposed to ‘criminal justice’ – and yet continue to repeat the same actions? More difficult yet; “How do we – or should we – measure rates of recidivism in those cases where we have given the ‘actor’ an opportunity to correct his behavior?
I must agree, my concept of ‘measurement’ may be too strong. Should we measure petty faults if the offender has been counseled by his priest, rabbi or imam? NO! I think not. However, if I had said “Should we judge him?”, then a chorus would have said something like “Judge not, lest you be judged.” On the other hand, how does one consider the path to take if he is faced with a deceitful car dealer, lawyer, real-estate agent or parishioner? We use past experiences; which is why the deity has given us a memory. We have been given the opportunity to spot future trends/traps based on past experiences.
Disregarding the possibility of the reader thinking that I am ‘whipping a dead horse’ – I continue.
Our current culture appears to look the other way when we know someone is lying, cheating or otherwise offending moral norms. Some of the philosophers in our universities tell us that there are no such things as ‘norms’ when it comes to personal choice. They tell us there is no such thing as ‘free will’; “You have all been programmed by — your parents – your church – your schools – your employers.” If that is really the case, then there are no such things as our ‘own acts’ for which we are responsible. Therefore, there can be no concept as recidivism; criminal or moral.
If that is true, then this entire effort of mine is a waste of time. Likewise, if that is true, there is no sense in considering my life; alive, dead, criminality or morality.
So, should I stick my head in the oven and turn on the gas?
Likewise, should we stick our collective head in the sand and not consider recidivism when handing out social justice?
I say “No.”
However, in the current politically charged atmosphere where free speech is being trampled on by political correctness – or its opposite – rampant nationalism – I opine that we are not free to consider – or measure – recidivism when it comes to those who have squandered social justice.
Allow me to be quick to add – for those who wish to label me as a racist, xenophile, homophobe, or one who has no use for the downtrodden — I strongly object.
This essay is the result of a good and special friend who explained to me what ‘social justice’ means – and – how important it is to put great and endless effort into continuing the fight for social justice. I deeply appreciate that friend’s insight and consider myself the recipient of a lesson on the subject – and will not be a recidivist that scoffs at ‘social justice.’
On the other hand, we cannot continue blindly applying social justice when we may be squandering resources that are best used elsewhere for other social efforts. Should we, for example, continue giving financial aid to the person who squanders it when we could be using it to support the family of a sick child?

I believe that we should consider the ‘social justice recidivist’ with our eyes wide open.

The Dehkhoda S3:E5 A Story About Sharing


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A rich Spaniard, riding about one day,
Was paying no attention to his way,
He circled for home, but then before,
he saw a young boy, on the river’s shore.
the lad scowled at his empty hook,
the Spaniard alit with a kindly look,
they sat together, he and the forlorn child
looked the boy in the eye and then he smiled.
“You are the most melancholy niño I’ve ever seen,”
the Spaniard said. “What does your sad face mean?”
‘Nuestro padre gone; for siete children I –
must fish all day” the pescar lad lent reply.
“Mi madre es ill and we are poor;
It is for fish I frequent this shore –
I fish here from the morning’s light,
until I fear the dark and dreary night.
I catch very few fish and my fingers pain,
I must fish in all weather, hot sun or rain.”
The Spaniard said: “Can I fish, will you agree?”
The lad nodded and, then almost immediately,
From his saddle bag the man did deliver,
hook and line, casting it far, into the river.
Together they caught ciento cincuenta fish.
“This wealth is far beyond my wildest wish,”
the boy said. ‘A splendid haul,’ the Man replied.
Good Fortune has been busy at your side –
Accept your luck, don’t try to comprehend
How this has happened; you’d be lost, my friend.
Your wealth is greater than my own; today
A King has fished for you — I cannot stay.’
He leapt onto his horse. ‘But take your share,’
The boy said earnestly. ‘That’s only fair.’
‘Tomorrow’s catch is mine. We won’t divide
Today’s; you have it all,’ the King replied.
‘Tomorrow when I fish you are the prey,
A fine trophy I refuse to give away.’
The next day, walking in his pastoral shade,
The King recalled the friend that he had made.
A apostle fetched the boy, and this unknown
was, at the king’s command set on his throne.
The apostles murmured at his poverty –
“He is my friend, this fact suffices me;
He is my equal here in everything
The partner of my throne,” declared the King;
To every taunt the boy had one reply:
‘My sadness vanished when My King passed by.’

END OF POSTS ABOUT THE DEHKHODA; Thank you for reading.

The Dehkhoda S3:E4 The Dehkhoda Teaches Them About “Understanding”


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Dehkhoda offered: “A wise man once told me,
that through understanding you will begin to see,
a deeper love for the other, that will bring,
wisdom and friendship that no wealthy king –
will ever have, only humbleness and prayer,
see the other with his eyes – with heartfelt care;
if with the other, you need to pray;
do whatever you can to see his way.
Listen to his case, you own opinions cease,
in this way your understanding will increase,
in doing this, his thoughts will be drawn,
and your misjudging the other will be gone,
then he will accept you, and you both will know,
that you accept him – only then – will love grow.”

Next Post;    S3:E5      A Story About Sharing

The Dehkhoda S3:E3 The Pilgrims ask the Dehkhoda to Resolve their Doubts


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The trembling questers stared out across the plain;
The grass seemed as endless, endless; as their pain.
But in the Dehkhoda’s heart self-confidence,
certified him to speak to this unique conference –
their worry did not alarm him nor the high –
flock of circling buzzards in the bright sky.
What other wagon train leader could bear,
The worrisome difficulties; all in his care?
The anxious pilgrims appealed to the guide,
“You must get us to our goal.” they cried,
“We have no leader, we have no king –
you appear to know most everything,
you have crossed this prairie; therefore you know,
whether to the north or south or straight we go;
you have seen bears and buffalo along the way,
we will follow your lead, anywhere you say,
lead us safely to those far lands we seek,
as we are unexperienced; our spirits weak,
give us courage, enlighten our hearts,
before this wagon train, again departs,
your courage is not the thing we doubt,
it is the unknown that this is about,
daylight is disappearing, soon there will be no light,
help us through uncertainty, it is our dark night;
give us directions and we will commit –
our sinew and muscle, all we have, to it.”
The Dehkhoda spoke, and the pilgrim herds,
considered each and every one of his words;
all of them gathered to understand his mind,
gathered by nations, clarifying for their kind.
The German and the Frenchman voiced complaint,
their crowds grew smaller, their words grew faint –
the crowds applauded the Dehkhoda; an opportune state,
where neither fear nor anarchy – could easily predominate.
As the Dehkhoda spoke; he verbally drew,
a great path forward; undoubtedly true.
One asked: “How is it that you surpass us in –
this quest, requiring courage; what is our sin? –
we are alone and so are you — but you receive –
courage and heart, while we can only grieve.”

Next Post;    S3:E4   The Dehkhoda Teaches Them About “Understanding”

The Dehkhoda S3:E2 The Pilgrims Fear the Emptiness of the Prairieland; The Dehkhoda tells them about Sacagawea


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The Dehkhoda had been given leadership; renowned –
the pilgrims (with great reverence) had gathered round,
hundreds convened then; right there,
breathing in the healthy prairie air.
however, upon hearing their first loon,
someone emitted a wail; ‘certain doom’,
dread spread among them as they feared,
the barrenness that had appeared,
not unlike a herd of buffalo; a clustered crowd,
formed a protective circle as they cried aloud,
it would break your heart; this apprehensive song –
their fears countless – away from home too long,
an incalculable distance before their eyes,
nothing familiar that they would recognize,
only emptiness had greeted them where,
they thought in fear of unknown; despair,

“The impending trip is lifeless, empty — why?”
to which Dehkhoda gave this rather odd reply:
“This story about a queen – not a king –
it is a history of this emptiness – I bring.”

——– One moonlit night,
Sacagawea was attracted by a sight,
which appeared so clearly as if it were day,
over rivers and swamps she made her way,
found herself on a cliff where she saw more,
incalculable empty space than she hoped for,
she dared walk no farther – clearly aware,
she would then fall to her death, in despair.
Sacagawea stared out at that great immensity,
knowing that to widely roam was her propensity,
a call for help, ——– “Great Spirit,” she cried,
“Your verdant palace summons me far and wide –
where are the white men who should be taught? –
there is not one to be found; I feel distraught.”
A voice called out “You must admit,
that these white men may not be fit,
to hear the hooting and howls through the night,
they may not last; darkness ‘til dawn’s bright light,
You must show them the way through your home,
along the rivers and mountains; their new throne.”

Next Post;    S3:E3     The Pilgrims ask the Dehkhoda to Resolve their Doubts

The Dehkhoda S3:E1 The Pilgrims Reaffirm Their Leader


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The immigrant’s hearts were all afire,
to travel forward, their deep desire,
the lectures of the Dehkhoda had given them heart;
however, some remained reluctant from the start.
They argued amongst themselves; indeed –
“We must settle this.” they finally agreed.
The worriers said, “Who can guide us, who –
is able to deliver us to our dreams so true?
Those who were sure of Dehkhoda’s ability,
said “Dehkhoda guides us well, as you can see,
whatever he has advised along the way,
he has done well so far – this we say.
Over these grassy plains our daily ride –
has been sure and even, no need to hide,
Dehkhoda finds us a place to rest in the shade,
his advice has been excellent and we obeyed.”
Other names were raised, who could they trust?
They decided a vote would be proper and just,
a winning lottery must be the final decide –
which immigrant should be their guide.
They gathered to discuss, animosity aside,
a vote was taken, the Dehkhoda won,
they were bound together – everyone.
They agreed to follow him and would sacrifice,
themselves as a group – if that was the price;
the wagon train moved forward on these words,
and that finally settled the immigrant herds.


Next Post;    S3:E2       The Pilgrims Fear the Emptiness of the Prairieland;
The Dehkhoda tells them about Sacagawea

The Dehkhoda S2:E14 (Part 13) THE END of the Story; “Crow Chief”


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The old Crow Chief, dejected and weary, in a dark forest, with fog so dreary
cross-legged and contemplating if the apparition was simply lore,
thoughtfully he sat – almost napping, owl’s wings in branches flapping,
the morning sun – night unwrapping, bringing mountains to the fore.
“It is time for the apparition” he uttered, “Appear now – damn it” he swore,
“Only this I ask, and nothing more.”

As he sat watching a dying ember, nowhere near a Crow tribe member,
Chief every day growing more slender, something appeared above the lake’s floor,
walking straighter than an arrow, on the watery path so narrow,
simulacrum of the spirit Song Sparrow, Chief had found his lost Apparition,
with the singular resplendent cognition, whom the angels named Jesus, 
the Son who is androgenesis, this and SOMETHING MORE.

And the quivering of the hemlock’s purple curtain, made the chief suddenly certain,
delighted Chief, filled him with hope he felt before;
He sat there – heart beating, those joyful words repeating,
“This Spiritual Visitor is greeting, this old chief at death’s door.
This morning Visitor is completing, the wish that I had hoped for;
This it is, and nothing more.”

Now the Chief grew stronger; and fearful was he no longer,
“Spirit!” spoke the Chief, “or Prophet, your mercy I implore;
The lake’s waves were slapping, and you have caught me napping,
not so faintly waves came slapping, slapping at the lake’s shore,
many nights I waited for you, waiting at my teepee’s door;
You not there — not there — and nothing more.”

“For many moons peering, long I sat cross legged; fearing,
never doubting, facing accusations, no Crow Chief was accused of before;
my belief in You was unbroken, and my Crow braves gave no token,
harsh words have been spoken, it was said that you were only lore,
but in You I cried out, ‘I believe’ the echoes cried ‘I believe’,
only that, and nothing more.”

“On me all the Crows were turning, with hatred for me burning,
my only friends were these waves slapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ I cried, ‘surely there is something beyond the hemlock lattice;’
let me see it then, and what there at is, and Your Mystery explore,
allow my Crow people to believe and Your Mystery adore;
allow them to believe and nothing more!”

“Let them clean out disbelief and clutter, allow their hearts to flutter,
may the Badland Spirits; evil beliefs – of the ages so long before;
never again a Wolf Spirit be; may my Crow People clearly see,
when I tell the truth of You, walking above the lake’s watery floor,
as they sit, in a truth-circle, outside my teepee’s door
believing – and sitting – nothing more.”

Then the Crow Braves now beguiling, changed his sad face into smiling,
the old Crow Chief could not hide the happy countenance he wore,
the Crow Braves no longer craven, in the Lake Walker found a haven,
grim and ancient spirits forsaken, left to wander on forgotten shore,
what, additionally, could the old Crow Chief have asked for? –
only that; and nothing more.




Next Post;    S3:E1       The Pilgrims Reaffirm Their Leader

The Dehkhoda S2:E13 (Part 12) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition


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Old Crow Chief had chosen his path – drank the wine,
while the crow braves saw his spiritual beliefs decline,
deeply dejected -sadly – they trekked back home,
while allowing their crow chief’s theology to roam.
in the badlands they hid, of the apparition afraid,
believing that the Old Crow Chief had strayed,
after some months they desired rest,
thinking that this apparition was a test,
was this apparition imagined gratefully –
or did the chief believe in it faithfully?
“What should we believe in?” asked they
has our Old Crow Chief has led us astray?”
they smote themselves and cut their hair,
all crying and moaning in great despair;
while wrapping themselves in buffalo cloak,
and sat in a circle, a truth-pipe to smoke,
“How could he abandon the spirits – all three” –
Great White Bear, Peaceful Fawn, Eagle Free –
for this apparition that walked on the lake –
abandoned our ancient spirits for the sake –
of the apparition who appeared quite pale? –
believing in this new spirit will surely fail.”


Next Post;    S2:E14     (Part 13) THE END of the Story; “Crow Chief” 

The Dehkhoda S2:E12 (Part 11) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition


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One brave replied: “Your spirits are poor, and I –
do not accept this apparition – who sits so high;
who appears to you, righteous and innocent –
you have created your own predicament.
I truly wish that if I could accept and take.
for myself this apparition who walks the lake,
however chief, you left us, sad and alone;
why to this lake-walker, have you flown?”
The chief responded; “Fine brave, understand now –
to an exceptional apparition I have given my vow,
when it walked on the water with a divine gait,
it was then, only then, that I decided my fate.
Your harsh rejection will return to haunt you
earth, stars and seasons bring all things anew,
is it impossible to have a new spirit for everyone?
this is a bitter argument, what, here, is to be won?
You act as if my apparition is a spiritual crime,
to me, he who walks on lakes, is clearly sublime,
you and the other braves have departed me – gone,
if only, it was you that the apparition fell upon.
He watches us – you – the other – and I,
it is eerie to know this, you may wish to fly;
however, if you believe – it avoids hell,
the tortures of which I wish not to tell.”
Finally, these pleadings reached the braves heart,
“Oh chief, you are one who knows your own part,”
they said, “But avoid the apparition for a year,
and, we can follow the apparition without fear.”
The Old Crow Chief did not refuse, they found a way,
to accept each other’s beliefs, while continuing to obey,
the callings of the White Bear Spirit while not –
scheming and conniving a horrible theocide plot.
Dear reader, do not imagine the chief would fall;
this is a universal story, which lurks in us all,
rearing its degrading head when we begin,
to avoid recovery’s path — if you think sin –
has a place in your nature, you will not stay
content with others; you are not on the way –
to start our journey – with us – you will find,
that fear is an imaginary joke on the mind –
avoid becoming fearful and then a new you,
will replace the terrified one you once knew,
apprehensive thought is a worry some plight,
it swallows the achievable benefits from sight –
while making mountains of molehills – in your head.
Once more, the Crow Braves returned and said;
‘We leave for our Sacred grounds, but our hearts ache –
to Great White Bear, do you wish us, a message to take?
Should we tell Great White Bear, the apparition you embrace?
Of this, he would surely think of you – as an incredible disgrace.
How, as a great Crow Chief, are we to think of you?
Converted leadership – are we to see the apparition too?
How to face this inconsistency -we –
are seriously considering too flee,
are you so lost in apparitions and prayer? –
for our sacred ground you no longer care?”
The Crow Chief replied: ‘You break my heart! –
Do what you must – run away – flee -depart;
I know that the apparition keeps me alive,
it is now the only way that I am to survive.
There is no way that you could possibly know –
following the path of the apparition, I must go.
When I hear you will leave me it causes pain,
it appears you like saying it – again and again,
you surely know better than foe or than anyone –
that to follow the apparition what must be done –
therefore – until your return I will wait
surrounded by my beliefs and fate.
You must look at the story – whole,
before you can master self-control,
logic and belief are separated by a hair,
that is why humankind falls in despair.
If you believe in something strange, then say
“What two humans believe in the same way?”
In your beliefs you should remain secure,
and leave the vacillations to those unsure.

Next Post;    S2:E13     (Part 12) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition

The Dehkhoda S2:E11 (Part 10) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition


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This understanding of the apparition, only Chief could see,
it was not something the braves understood instinctively –
he wore no holy beads around his neck,
and surely was not an ascetic wreck,
still, they asked; “What do you want, old man? –
old hypocrite of understanding, but only can –
speak of the apparition, but we declare –
will he not show himself, not even a hair,
we are confused, and you must agree –
hating the apparition is blasphemy.
How are we to follow him, like you say?
this has never been the Crow tribe’s way.”
The crow braves were near a waring state,
strife, internally, was that to be their fate?
Of this apparition, they were growing afraid,
and quite concerned that it must be obeyed –
ancient blood still flowed in the old chief’s veins,
surely, these ancestors had conveyed their brains,
was the chief’s body and head to old,
had his reasoning and logic grown cold?
Within each brave the question cried;
“We are confused, old chief, you decide –
is this apparition pure idolatry? –
point the correct direction for me.
On the funeral pyre I would gladly burn,
if this apparition does not love and learn,
that each of understands spirits quite well,
why must we find new meanings that dwell –
must we abandon good fortune and make –
new amulets, for this apparition’s sake?”
They followed the old chief to a Christian mission,
where the old chief made a good act of contrition,
they hid around corners, not showing their face,
afraid of what may happen in this dreadful place –
they possessed their own natural spirits and belief,
the old chief’s actions brought shame and grief.
They said: “This apparition has well betrayed;
all crow brave’s spirits and of the old chief made –
a fool – the unbearable deed has been done,
he has offended the spirits of moon and sun.”
(How many religions must mankind invent –
before we get God’s approval and assent?)
“I now belong to the apparition” chief said,
“Whatever becomes of you is on my head,
I have eaten the host and tasted the wine;
I have accepted the holy apparition as mine!
You may disavow me, forget me, in disgrace,
however, I am not ashamed, will not lose face.
Over the years I defied the desert and dusty road,
and paddled my canoe where raging river flowed,
you all paddled behind me, stroke by stroke,
wearing eagle’s feathers and beaver’s cloak;
and accepted my hunting skills as a great sign,
that I could bring your people food, so divine.
Respect, for only my sake, what this chief has done –
how can you tell me – that we can not be – as one?
Why do you abandon me, and cause me pain;
have I shepherded and guided you in vain?”

Next Post;    S2:E12     (Part 11) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition