A few years ago, I took a class called Shamanism and the Spirit of Place.  During the class, we were told to journey to a local place that drew our attention, ask the spirits of the place if we could enter, and ask for the spirits to provide information as they saw fit.  I picked Lake Monona as my place.  I found myself wandering the shore and saw a mother bear and her child, two wolves running around, and overhead, an eagle was circling in what appeared to be a tornado of energy.  I asked if I could enter their land.  They said yes and urged me to stand in a particular spot.  They then showed me that there is an energetic “body” around Madison, where native mounds were built many years ago both as family/tribal markers and meeting points, and also as markers of sacred energy points.  The mounds were all linked and built to connect the people into a larger sacred tribe.  I was told to visit all of the mound groups, ideally in one day if I could do so.  This would bring me knowledge of the rhythms of the land and the land’s energy body.  

About a year later, I was walking around Lake Monona and found an interesting Ho Chunk totem pole.  On it was a human face, two bears, wolves and at the top an eagle.  Two mounds exist there, and a giant stone rests right in the spot I had seen during my journey, where I was told to stand.  Before my journey, I had never visited this spot.  I found this interesting and have been reflecting on this since.

Fast forward to today.   Wedding plans require me to carve a cannupa for the wedding ceremony. While engaged in doing this, I remembered tales of “marathon monks” in Japan who run a marathon or more a day for over 100 days. See this link for more information about these amazing meditators: http://www.runpunxsyrun.org/marathonmonks.html

Thinking about these monks and my visions and dreams, I decided I would test myself, my meditative abilities, keep current with my “black belt mind”, and in turn, introduce my new pipe to its home and the spirits of the land. I decided to follow the course (with a few alterations) that I had seen in my vision years earlier. I believed my recent triathlon training provided a sufficient physical base to approach this challenge without difficulty. I was wrong, but not tragically so.

I started from my home yesterday around 9am, running through my neighborhood toward Milwaukee Street and East Washington. I carried a small pack with a few granola bars and about 16 oz. of water. I also carried my pipe bundle–my pipe, sage, cedar, tobacco, copal. My first stop was to be the Eagle mound at Mendota Mental Health Center, one of the largest native mounds in the world, a full 440 feet in length. It was about 6 miles to this point. I ran smoothly past Warner Park, trying to step gently so little pressure was put on my knees and ankles. At Mendota Mental Health Center, it was a quick minute jog toward the lake to get to the Eagle Mound. As I approached, I saw a small hawk (Cooper’s hawk?) out of the corner of my eye watching me. I slowed and turned my attention to it, and it then quickly flew into the dark of the forest near the mound. This brought to mind my spiritual journey, the hawk representing my spirit, showing itself for a moment, only to disappear into the depths of my mind as I approached. An ongoing peacemaking/prayer process is required to tease it out, define it clearly.

I approached the mound, asking for permission to enter. Okay. Onto the mound. I unwrapped my bundle and offered a prayer to all 7 directions, asked for a blessing for my life, my family, my community, and for an empowerment blessing for my pipe. Quiet all around. I wrapped the bundle and left quickly, aware that I had a long way to travel. I ran toward Hwy M on the outskirts of Madison. I wanted to arrive at Governor Nelson Park, to honor the Panther (or as the case may be, the Squirrel) mound there. This was the 11 mile point. Once at Hwy M, my legs were starting to get really sore and tense, ankles were feeling beaten. I walked for a few minutes to relax my legs. Take a few minutes for self-care. This was one of the primary teachings of the day–spirit care and compassion towards the self leads to inner nourishment and an increasing ability and energy to provide positively for others. I made it to Governor Nelson (I think I it was around 10:45am) then sat and stretched my legs. I unwrapped my bundle and offered prayers again, and gave thanks for the my physical health. I stayed for a few minutes, the prairie was exquisite. Few visit this place, and I saw no others around. I started towards Middleton.

Driving along Hwy M at 55mph for years led to a deceptive understanding of how long this road actually is. I remembered the Holy Wisdom Monastery being much closer to Gov. Nelson park. This was through the 1 mile per minute mental filter. I slowly made my way along, noticing the quickly moving cars. At this point the journey became explicitly visionary. I began to pray for wisdom, knowledge, and asked specifically about how the vision from years earlier related to this day’s journey. I could see the Eagle in the Eagle Mound, I could see the Bear in the Bear Mounds I visited just a few days earlier near Vilas Zoo, but what of the wolves? I could recall no wolf or dog mounds in the area. As this thought passed through my mind, I looked to my right and noted that a wolf was driving the car headed toward me! I shook my head and laughed at myself. Seeing what I wanted to see? Was that real? Hell if I know. That’s what I saw. A moment later, directly above, a red-tailed hawk appeared and drifted into the distance in front of me, toward Middleton. I do not consider this a coincidence. Again, the work of spirit. Life or death, no joking around here. This was an incredibly moving moment and brings me to tears right now.

Onward, note that I was running counter-clockwise around the lake. Were you to run around Lake Mendota, I would recommend against this. This is suitably symbolic according to the logic of my journey–seeing the inner workings of the body of the land during a day when it is working most efficiently and busily leads to an overwhelming number of perceptions. It’s a truly daunting perceptual task. Filtering is necessary, and I’m telling a story, fiction, in describing this to you. More on that recognition later. It is as close to the inner truth of the thing as I can get. Inadequate, self-important pumping up, power and wisdom seeking for reasons beyond me. Someone told me that was a way so I followed it. I told myself this. Incomprehensible past this point. Parts of this journey and my explanation of them you just will not be able to understand. Language eludes. As Cristi and I like to joke “it’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an incomprehensibility wrapped in a riddle wrapped in toilet paper and flushed down the toilet.” In that joke lies salvation I’m pretty sure.

I continued on to Allen Blvd, getting away from the quiet of the outskirts of town. I passed my old home, formerly called Sunrise Heights now Outlook Pointe (nice “e” added to the end there). I made note of the raspberry lemonade being offered by McDonalds and thought of water. I drank some and thought I’d stop soon to get some Gatorade. I ran up the big hill on Allen toward University Avenue and stopped at the little Chinese/Korean (???) owned gas station/convenience store near Imperial Palace. I was internally warm at this point, and my legs were aching. I bought a Gatorade and a Twix bar, went outside, and sat for a few minutes to devour each. Sugar was good. I asked a fellow for the time–11:40am. Less than 3 hours for 16 miles or so. Good. I drank the Gatorade too quickly, and sat near a glass fronted office building with incredibly atrocious feng shui. Boxes upon boxes and the people inside were like giants roaming the boxes, feeling self-important like me. And the ego asserts itself and must be promptly crushed. That self is desirous, greedy for perception, explanation, “knowledge”, perception upon perception to give me an educated edge over the other. On fire. Sick of fire. Toward water.

A small path runs along the side of University Avenue. I continued to run, slowly. My legs were aching. I remembered the fellow I saw the other day at the store–crippled since birth, hard to walk, spinal deformities, yet good spirited, positive, no problems, a helper. I prayed for him, for his family, for good spirits in painful times, for strength to overcome obstacles, to bring a smile when there were tears. Strangely, coincidentally with this thought, a small cardinal, symbol of new life, springtime, new modes of thinking, tweeted loudly right above my head. Aho. Then, below, a small ant dragging along a beetle. Hard hard work. Bringing plenty to the community. Carrying the weight of the world and more, but it’s of no matter to him. Really fast moving here internally. My breath was incredibly relaxed.

I stopped for a moment here to stretch again. I wasn’t entirely conscious of my surroundings and was pretty absorbed in the pain present in my knees and ankles. After stretching for a moment I looked up to see a grove of cedar trees only a few feet in front of me. I know why I stopped. I grabbed some cedar and inhaled deeply to refresh my mind. I see why this medicine is used for purification at sun dance. I remembered all the work my daughter had done at sun dance. This will be her 6th year dancing, helping others, helping them pray, supporting in the best way she knows, from sunrise to sunset, in what is sometimes 100 (110 one year) degree heat. She is the best, bringing the purifying medicine. Thanks, good memories here.

I continued down University toward Hilldale, travelled past it, then found some railroad tracks that I followed for a short way. I jumped onto a wall where to my left was a 30 foot straight fall, and to my right was a 1 foot fall. The wind was gusting powerfully, and my legs were wobbly. I enjoyed the feeling of fear for a few moments, then jumped to my right to get onto a small safe trail. On towards the UW campus. Traveling slowly. I had travelled nearly 20 miles by this point.

My legs were aching. Enough whining. I asked to be able to make it home safely. Okay, onward, toward Bascom Hill and up the stairs (jumped up them really), then to the top of the hill and gave thanks for the downward slope. Past the Humanities building (“debt is too high, tax the rich” was a slogan I recall seeing there on a column), then down the stairs to Library Mall (avoid the in your face preachers there for sure), then started seeing more and more, and to State Street where the people all flowed like a river. Beggars (man in leather jacket shaking his cup “give me something because I’m standing here shaking this cup at you”), students worried about the future, professors worried about the future and tenure and status, providers of food (god bless you), and on, slowly down the street, an artery, the pumping of city life blood, back and forth, giving and receiving, pulsing and retracting. I move on toward the capitol building. Scent of food is strong. Strange couple walking. Man coughs outrageously loud “listen to me you people”, then spits, then walks on with a scared strung out old woman trying to look young in short shorts and makeup covering the years of body abuse. Don’t see that or the guys carrying their possessions on their back. Don’t remember. Push it out. Sing for solidarity, sing against Walker, I see 6 or 7 bored milling about self aggrandizement, “give me your attention so things go my way”.

No attachment, I continue. Fleeting images and stories, people with no names, and every name, and I sit by the state house, an old old native burial ground to see what is there. Men in suits, some look fit, others absorbed in self-importance, the suit is the signal, something important is going on. Looks almost absurd. Conversation, here’s the thing, wait, like, there was that other thing, and he said that she said that it was all confused, convoluted and contradictory and the left became right when up was down so none knew what the hell was what. And that was just the beginning of what I heard there. A swirling vortex where the dead go to rest. And the eagle drove me on.

I got up, ran past the capitol, then on toward Lake Monona and John Nolen Drive. I heard an old man singing pleasantly. My mind was crazy–I thought _he_ was the crazy one for singing. Not good. On toward Jenifer Street, down near Lake Monona, beautiful lake, and I rest my weary legs on a hill, noting that there are thousands of small flying green insects jumping up onto my legs. I continue, ask the time of a passing stranger–1:30pm. Great, I have time to make it home. Legs are not in a good place at this point. Body is screaming. My feet and knees feel swollen and every step is painful. I have to make it home.

And Death at this point decided to visit. I saw my heart stop and my body collapse. Not real. Onward. Past a house under construction. Some “wealthy” person decided to build there, wealth signaled by the distance of pieces of wood from one another, and the relation of those pieces of wood on earth to other pieces of wood/stone on earth. Going under. I’m falling. And that body will move inside and tell his descendants that the emptiness between walls will be a signal to others of strength and vitality and power, and it all comes unravelled. Screaming internally I continue, and I hear the screams and the pain and walk along the lake and come to the mound that motivated the journey. I quickly pray, then walk toward symbolic gravestones, and I am undone as the lies, the system working, the obscene language of wealth and objectification giving rise to the gravestones, and those guys, none of them knew what it was for. And it was for nothing. And the guy in the empty box told the guy in a smaller box with nothing else to do that he should gather and pick up weapons and defend the empty box by invading the homes of the hordes of poor men, women and children living in cardboard box shacks, and the Starbucks latte tv end and I end and I am getting really sick and I’m dying please help and they told them lies and they didn’t die for anything like freedom or my life. And the spirits, the end of the movements of the body of the city have come to this, the graveyard of souls, the dust moving for dust to defend dust and proclaim dust heaven, and the dust is moving slowly from my eyes.

I walked the rest of the way home, puking.

Later, I took my daughter to State Street for kung fu class. After class, walking to our car, a stranger looked at us and said “it sure is a beautiful day to be out walking with your family, don’t you think?” And that was the point of the whole journey for me. Facing suffering, holding the hand of death, smiling, knowing that it surely was a beautiful day to be out walking with my family in Madison. Aho and thanks to the creator for all these gifts and visions.