The Chaco Canyon Tapes - Part 5

The Call of the Owl - Part 5

Beth elaborated a bit more. "A lot of the Native associations in the cities are just urban versions of the Tribal Councils on the reservations. They are all caught up in petty, self-serving politics. Generally speaking, they are not really interested in trying to help someone like my brother unless they can get some sort of political mileage out of it that will enhance their image, power and so on."

She sighed and, then, said: "In addition, Brian has made some statements which have not exactly endeared him to a lot of Native groups. They feel he has turned his back on Native spirituality and become an 'apple' ... you know ... red on the outside, and white on the inside."

The undertow of life was pulling me in a direction with which I wasn't very happy. I was struggling on a number of levels.

While splashing about in my subjective pool, I said: "Maybe this is impolitic of me to mention the obvious, but, Beth, why don't you go and help him? He is your brother, and it is, after all, your vision."

Without skipping a beat or wasting any effort on being annoyed with my petulance, Beth said: "Are you saying you don't believe in the brotherhood and sisterhood of humanity? Is brotherhood and sisterhood only a matter of genetics?"

I began to say: "Well, of course...," but my voice trailed off as I started to consider her question in a more reflective manner. Her comments were both fair and unfair, and this dimension of dualism made them particularly difficult to sort out and deal with.

Beth tried to clarify her request for my assistance. "David, I'm not really asking you to save my brother or raise money for an appeal or break him out of jail. I just would like you to talk with him.

"Quite frankly, I'm as mystified as you must be concerning how you might be able to help Brian. Nevertheless, I'm asking you to listen to your heart and spirit, not just your mind or habits.

"See what happens. Be open to possibilities. Leave room for the unexpected to come into your life."

Before saying more, she gave me a few moments to begin digesting what had been said. When she sensed I was ready, Beth said: "Coming here has not been easy for me. Although you are woven into the fabric of my vision, you are, for the most part, a stranger.

"Yet, out of respect for what I believe is the sacred nature of my vision and because of love and concern for my brother, I have spoken to you about family and personal matters that are very hard to talk about to anyone, let alone a non-Native. I have done this because it is a way for me to try to help my brother in a constructive fashion."

In her own way, Beth actually was calling me to my better self. Yet, I was feeling rather shaky and uncertain about responding to the call.

There was one point about which I was still curious. "How did you locate me, Beth? I mean, how does one go about finding someone who shows up in a vision? The odds on doing that must be a kazillion, or more, to one."

Beth shrugged her shoulders, arched her eyebrows and raised her hands in mock surrender, as if to say it was all a mystery to her. Then, she said: "What I told you earlier, David, is just the way things happened. I was walking by your building. Something drew my attention to the sign about counseling and therapy services.

"For some reason, I felt inclined to, at least, take a look around, so I came into the lobby. The board listing building occupants was, more or less, in front of me, and your name sort of jumped out at me. I guess I was kind of open to the possibilities of the moment."

She had an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, David. There may be much more to this than what I'm saying, but what I'm saying is the only part of the story that I know."

The meeting seemed to have run its course. I wasn't really sure what to do. I needed time to think about things.

"Beth, if it's alright with you, I would like to have some time to go over our discussion. It won't be long, maybe a day or two. I'll let you know at that time what, if anything, I'll be prepared to do. Could you give me a number where I can reach you?"

She pulled out a pen and piece of paper from her bag, jotted something down and pushed the information across the desktop toward me. Beth rose from the chair and offered her hand. As we shook hands, she said: "Well, however it turns out David, I want to thank you for your time."

I acknowledged her thanks with a da nada look, which seemed incongruous with what was going on inside of me, and added: "However it turns out, Beth, there won't be any charge for my services."

She smiled with gratitude, turned and left the office. I was left with my thoughts, feelings and conscience.