Long ago, in a time that is occurring simultaneously with our time right now, I stood on a bluff overlooking a shallow valley. Looking down into that valley, I saw a large grouping of tents. Though there was much flapping, the tents stood firmly against the desert wind, which was brisk, but not strong enough to cause a sand storm. The wind blew the smell of camels up to the bluff where I was standing. I moved my focus from the valley below me to the azure sky above. I said a little prayer then looked back down at the valley.

 

To my amazement, the city of tents had disappeared and I was looking at a different encampment altogether. There were still tents, but they were different kinds of tents. They were conical and they were emblazoned with art work. Instead of camels, I smelled horses and the smell of buffalo meat cooking. Instead of a desert valley, I was looking down onto a vast sea of grass cut through by a small river, along which sat the encampment of teepees. I felt that the people down in both encampments were the same people, but in different bodies and lives. I felt my connection to them was the same or very similar in both scenarios.

 

Was I looking into the future or the past? Or was I looking into a whole different world? I felt I was part of both places, but I could not understand how that was possible. There was a sadness I felt towards both encampments of people, but I could not decipher what caused that sadness.

 

I let the sadness envelope me, trying to get to the bottom of it. As the sadness rippled through me, I realized that it was this sadness that both connected me to these people and kept me alienated from them. It was the struggle of these people that caused the sadness. My very deep connection to these people allowed me to feel all their pain and suffering. Although I could empathize with their sadness, I also wanted to be free of it. I yearned for joy, but to experience that joy seemed to be directly related to the level of joy experienced by those people. It seemed I was stuck with these people, yet at the same time I loved them dearly. I felt that my destiny was tied to these people, that my own spiritual evolution was gauged by and dependant upon the spiritual evolution of those people.

 

Feeling my love for those people while being engulfed with the sadness my connection to them brought, tears began welling up in my eyes. My vision blurred from the tears. As the tears streamed down my cheeks and I could focus again, I was alarmed that suddenly I was looking at an entirely different valley yet again! This time it was an otherworldly sight. There were no tents this time, but rather many, many buildings of all shapes and sizes. There were long straight black roads stretching as far as the eye could see, and there were fast-moving self-propelled vehicles moving along these roads. There were mechanical vehicles in the air and big painted signs everywhere. The entire valley was covered by a huge city and the noise created by all the people and machines was deafening. I had never heard a place that was so loud. How did these people ever pray to Mother Earth with all this noise?

 

I could feel that some of my people were down in this futuristic city, but I could also feel that they were no longer connected and were mixed in with many, many other people. The sadness I felt coming from the people had intensified, but like a faint smell being carried in the wind, I also felt an underlying hope. There was a new sense of frustration, however, that I also felt coming from this new scene. Feeling and trying to interpret this frustration, I realized that it came from an inability to connect with those people. Although I could still feel and sense their sadness and pain, I seemed utterly unable to influence them in any way. I was cut off from them. Although my destiny was still tied to theirs, I felt powerless to influence their destiny--and hence my own. Not only did the sadness continue, but now I also felt dread and fear. A shudder ran through my body.

 

Was I looking into the future? Were my people and I doomed? Would we all drift apart, pursuing our evolvement alone? Would the pain and suffering ever be overcome? Where did all these scenarios lead to? With another shudder running through my body, coupled with an especially strong gust of wind, my focus changed again. Yet another valley scene began coming into focus. Before this new scene could develop, though, I was brought out of my reverie by a man who walked up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turned to see the face of a dear friend. Apprehension bordering on fear colored my friend's expression as he told me that the camels were ready and that it was time to go. I nodded to him, then turned to look at the valley one more time. It was the same desert valley with tents that I had originally seen--the one in which I had been living in in that current life. I turned to follow my friend to the camels knowing that I would see that valley again, but not knowing if I would see it again in that life.

 

Part Two

 

I had done my sweat lodge at sunrise, and had spent most of the morning sitting at the edge of the bluff overlooking the prairie below. I was praying for a vision to come, but none had come. I was trying to still myself but became distracted by some boys counting coup down below. Did they not know that this was a sacred bluff, not to be used for childish games? I became angry, but when I turned to look at the boys I instead saw something very different. I turned my head and looked right into my vision.

 

I was suddenly in a strange land that had no grass. I was wearing a large dress of cloth and cloth on my hair. I was standing with some other men who were also wearing the same type of clothing, and they had hair on their faces. There were strange looking horses with big lips and huge humps on their backs. As I looked straight ahead I saw a band of men running toward me, long swords in their hands. They were yelling and were obviously coming towards me. All the men around me ran away, but my friend and I stood and faced the oncoming warriors. I quickly realized that my friend and I were no match for the twenty or so men quickly approaching us, and we could not outrun all of them. And then they were upon us and they killed my friend and I, stabbing us countless times.

 

I stumbled and fell to the ground, shattering my vision. I did not even realize that I had been walking. I turned to see that I was at least fifty paces from where I had been sitting. I did not even remember walking that distance. I turned around and around to get my bearing on the bluff and to make sure that I had fully returned from my vision. Everything seemed normal. But the boys playing were no longer anywhere to be seen.

 

Frightened by my vision, I began walking. I followed the bluff line for some distance as I replayed the vision in my head. Who were those people? Since they had hair on their faces, were they related to the white man? Did they come from the same land? But in the vision, I was one of them, too! And why did they kill me if I was one of them? And who was that friend? Questions buzzed around me like flies, and I could not answer them nor could I shoo them off. When I got to a point where I could see the encampment of teepees down by the river, I stopped. I was a little dizzy, and as I steadied myself, I focused on the teepees and my people. I could faintly hear dogs barking and children screaming. Looking like ants, the people walked about the encampment tending to chores. I could see plumes of smoke coming from several campfires. The tribe's horses were even nearer to me and I could hear and smell them. It was a peaceful scene, and I felt good that my wife and daughter were down there in the safety and comfort of the tribe. The people of my tribe I loved very much, even if they did manage to annoy me at times. I felt the pledge that I took to always help my people. It seemed to burn in my chest. And now confusion seemed to burn in my head as I tried to understand what my vision had to do with helping my people.

 

Suddenly, I felt the vision coming on again. A tingle raced through my body and I suddenly felt as light as air. I had to blink my eyes, for my village was no longer there. Instead, I was looking at a different encampment of strange-looking square teepees that sat upon a landscape of sand. It felt like the same land in which I had been killed by the band of assassins. Strangely, I got the same impression that my wife and daughter were down there in the comfort and safety of those other people of the square teepees. I suddenly realized that they did not yet know that I had been killed. Tears began flowing down my face as I lamented my separation from them. I knelt down and cried, overcome by wave after wave of sorrow.

 

Taking a deep breath, I felt compelled to look at the encampment of square teepees again, but when I looked up, I was shocked to see that it was no longer there. In its place was an incredible scene from some other world. I was looking out over a valley that had more people than I had ever seen before. The people were living in very large square buildings, some of which were far taller than the trees. Instead of riding horses, these people rode in strange-looking wagons without horses--and at great speed. They rode their wagons upon large and long black roads. There was a deafening noise from all these wagons, as well as from horrible monsters in the sky. All the people were moving so frantically through their lives and seemed unaware of most everything around them. I felt a little sick from the medicine that I felt from this frightening place. And then I felt as though my wife and daughter were also in this crazy land, and I was filled with dread and fear. How would I ever find them among so many people?

 

It was the fear that took me out of this last vision. Was this the future my family and my people had to look forward to? I was horrified. This did not seem like a loving and peaceful life for my family and my people. Was a life lived in harmony with Mother Earth not to be had in the future? Was there no hope? I cried for another vision to come and show me a better future, but it did not come. I prayed to the spirits to show me that my people would not perish, but they remained silent. I sank to the ground, overcome by sadness. Closing my eyes, I slowly gave in to sleep. I began dreaming of a different place. The feelings I got from this place were ones of pure joy. I was just starting to focus in on this heavenly place when I was jarred from my sleep by a hand on my shoulder. I quickly woke up, looking into the eyes of a fellow warrior. He was my dear friend and I smiled, but then I noticed a look of terror on his face, and I sat up. My friend told me that I had better come quickly, for my brother had just been found murdered. As my friend said this, a sharp pain erupted in my gut, as though I had been stabbed with a knife.

 

Part Three

 

"What the hell am I doing in California?"

 

That is what I asked myself as I looked out my apartment window at the San Fernando Valley. The sky was practically orange from smog. The Hollywood Hills were only a half mile from my place, yet I could barely see them through the smog. The air was also filled, as always, with noise: Traffic noise, dogs barking, people yelling, the occasional gunshot, and the omnipresent buzzing of police helicopters. I looked out over an endless sea of ugly square buildings and billboards and business signs; signs advertising pawn shops, burger joints, car upholstery, banks, porno shops, liquor stores, and gas stations. I gazed at a forest of television antennae atop all those square buildings. I saw people walking the streets. They were in a hurry and oblivious to all around them. No one interacted; they just walked past each other, hurrying to their appointments, which, judging by their expressions, they were not very eager to keep. Looking out over the valley, I saw squalor, pestilence, defeat, ennui, and suicide. I saw cancer, rage, revolution, murder, and rape. I saw millions of lemmings plunging over the cliffs.

 

"What the hell was I doing in California?"

 

The Olympic Torch had passed by the apartment building earlier in the day, but I did not bother to go down and watch. It was 1984 and Southern California's stress meter had been turned up a few notches with the Olympics going on. Looking out over the valley, I could feel the intense and chaotic energy. With a grunt of disgust, I turned away from the window and looked in at my apartment. I had been living there about nine months, and I had been living in California for a total of twelve months. My attention was drawn to my desk, atop which sat my electric typewriter and my current manuscript. The manuscript was a full inch thick, but incomplete, as was everything in my life at the time. It was a good manuscript, though; my best yet. It was really flowing there for a while until it dried up. I had not worked on it in a few weeks. A feeling of frustration began rising to the surface, but I quickly diverted my attention to the kitchen. There on the kitchen table sat a cutting board, a knife, a package of stew beef, a package of pork chops, an onion, and some garlic. A smile erupted on my face, for I was reminded that I had reason to celebrate.

 

I walked to the kitchen table and sat down. Just that morning I had made airline reservations for a flight out of California the next week. I was finally leaving. When I first arrived in California, I was not sure if I would be there a week, a month, a year, or a lifetime. I never felt at home there, and every day I was there seemed temporary. Even though my manuscript was not finished, I was finished with California, and had been chomping at the bit to leave for a couple of months. Looking at the food spread before me, it sank in that it was finally time for me to move on. It was time to celebrate with good food, and then proceed onwards, trying to catch up to my destiny.....and to HER.

 

I picked up the knife to begin chopping things up for my secret recipe Czechoslovakian Gulasch--with me a traditional celebratory meal--but I put it right back down. I decided to put cooking off for a few more minutes. I got up and walked back over to my apartment window that looked out over the San Fernando Valley.

 

It had been almost two years since SHE dumped me. Since then, I had had several visions of her, showing me that we had been together in other lives before. And then there was that vision I had while I was in Palm Springs. I was sitting on a park bench when I was overcome with the smell of pine trees. As though being hit by a wave, my entire consciousness shifted, and I was no longer looking out over a park. Instead, I was in a different place: a beautiful mountain valley sitting before a massive snow-capped peak. I could see myself standing there in the middle of a pasture surrounded by pine trees. SHE was standing there beside me, AND THERE WAS A BABY IN HER ARMS! We seemed deliriously happy and very much in love with each other and the child. I could sense that it was a girl, although I could not see her face. I could sense that that mountain valley was our home, and that it was the home we had been looking for, for many lifetimes. The vision was very intense, but it was also very short.

 

I could still see the vision with almost as much clarity as when I first saw it back in Palm Springs. As it faded from my consciousness, I became aware again of the San Fernando Valley, spread out before me like some science fiction movie. As a police siren wailed in the distance, I realized that I was currently in the wrong valley. I needed to be in that valley of my vision, with HER and the baby. But how do I do that when I haven't even talked to HER in almost two years? And a baby! Was my vision just some fantasy, and not a real future? The probabilities of it coming true were remote. I wiped my face with my hand, as if to wipe away all the questions. I took a deep breath and knowing that I had taken the first step in my journey to that mountain valley, I smiled. Yes, I was getting the hell out of California!

 

I took one more glance at the San Fernando Valley then returned to the kitchen table. It was time to cook. Breaking bread to celebrate something is a ritual that I enjoy. Cooking is a joy for me, as is eating. As I cut into an onion, I remembered that time I cooked my Czechoslovakian Gulasch for HER. It was back in that tiny garage apartment in Texas. It was the first time I ever prepared a candlelight dinner for HER. It was also the first time we ever.....

 

Just then, I was jolted out of my thoughts by the realization that I had just cut my finger with the knife! A flash of pain raced up my arm, and as I looked down at my hand and saw it covered in blood, I immediately grew faint. I did not move for a moment as I felt the power of the knife blade tearing through my consciousness. With the cutting of my finger, I felt the pain of other knives and swords stabbing me in other worlds, in other times. I felt the death brought upon me in other lives by blades. A horrible explosion of fear coursed through my body, and I realized that I was suddenly trembling. I raced over to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. Rinsing off my hand, the white porcelain sink was instantly red. Once rinsed, I could see that the cut was not too severe, but I sure did bleed a lot. I applied pressure to the cut while keeping it under the cold running water. I tried to calm myself. I slowed my breathing and then looked back over at the kitchen table. Another wave of fear returned as my eyes connected with the blood and onion splattered blade of the kitchen knife. I realized that death was ever ready to cut short my dreams and my destiny. I realized that death is what happens when you're not living life. With a start, I realized that to choose life over death, I had to direct my life toward that mountain valley of my vision.