Mighty Little Tree and Raspberry Bush
by Wakingspirit.com ©
Mike had a strange feeling when he woke this morning. Throughout the night he was overwhelmed with images of bright blinding lights and swirling sharp colours slicing through his dreams like tornados ripping up the landscape – disturbing visions were being violently tossed around which made no sense to him. Without knowing what this was, he was alarmed and felt a pending doom.
Mike lived on the last street in a small town – 1,000 people according to the sign coming into town which hadn’t changed in five years. He lived in the last house on a dead end street, beyond that was endless scrub and forest. It was a simple log cabin he built with his wife almost 20 years ago. His wife Ginger died last year at the age 45-years-old. Ginger was a chef at a B&B and made jams and pies that were sold at the local grocery store – her raspberry pies were famous and flew off the shelves. Mike made a living fixing broken things. He also made way more money selling his hand crafted fly fishing lures which fishermen all over the county were knocking down his door to buy. He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge this as his main means of earning a living – he was passionate about it, but it was too artsy. He preferred to be known for fixing bent piston rods and giving old run down motors and engines a rebirth. Other than losing Ginger, he was living an ideal life – after all he loved this corner of the Earth and his work, and he managed to keep life simple with just the right amount of the essential good ingredients to be a satisfied man.
Only Ginger knew that Mike had the spiritual gift of ‘Nature Vision’ – at least that’s what she called it. If it wasn’t for Ginger he would have swept the gift under his mental carpet and ignored it. Ginger moved to the town after finishing chef school in the city. She was quickly drawn to Mike and she saw his inner gift on their first date. A year later, over preparing their wedding she did some digging into Mike’s family tree. She uncovered that his grandmother was pure Blackfoot…Grandma looked Spanish and his grandparents played it up that way. When it came out of the bag Mike enjoyed the new status it gave him with the townsfolk - it gave him a passport to be mysterious. Before this he was always seen as different - people appreciated him but labelled him as weird and quirky...now he was cool.
The town was once home to families making a living logging or mining – those days were long gone. Now the town’s livelihood relied on tourism and hunting and fishing camps. The town consisted of new age types running B&Bs, politically correct retirees or long standing homestead families involved in the trades, or running camps or retail stores.
Ginger did everything to tap the mystical side and release it in Mike. His gift would give him signs of where the fish were hiding along a riverbank, where to set traps, when to look to the sky and catch an eagle about to swoop down on its prey or how much firewood he should chop for the upcoming winter and so on. Mike wasn’t overly impressed with his gift. His gift didn’t give him heads up that Ginger was sick - it didn’t sense the cancer that had taken root in her breast. It never spoke in a clear language or sent such great images to him as it did last night, and this was the first time it ever rattled his nerves.
Ginger was diagnosed with terminal cancer - all she had was a small lump, she wasn’t even feeling sick – but the tests indicated it was very aggressive and she would be sick soon enough. While she was still feeling well she tried to complete as much of her to-do list as possible, mostly items for Mike’s sake. She made Mike a dream catcher – this was number one on the list. She said the dream-catcher would keep the two of them connected after she died. She hung it in the bedroom by the window – she died 10 months later. The night she died Mike took it down and put it into her dresser drawer.
A year had gone by and for some unknown reason he felt compelled to hang it back up last night. He was sure the dream catcher had something to do with his powerful images. In his dream and even after he woke, he sensed a worrisome shift in the ‘Great Balance of Life’ – a phrase Ginger coined. It was too soon to define it or determine what impact it would have, but he knew a big event was coming – some kind of catastrophe…he also knew this was bigger than him… the entire town would be engulfed in it.
Mike had a premonition as to what he had to do to unearth the meaning of his dream and explore this disruption in the Great Balance of Life. He jumped in his pickup truck and drove into town. First, he went to the local grocery store.
‘Hey Mike, do you think it will be a good July for our local raspberries,’ asked John Hicks, the grocery store owner, as Mike brought his things up to the counter.
Mike scratched his whiskered chin, reached into his cart and piled his groceries and supplies on the conveyor belt. He seemed to be trying to speak some words, but he was just chewing a big wad of bubble gum.
‘How’s Nelly,’ Mike finally asked. ‘Is she getting more deer ticks than last year.’ Nelly was John’s 5 year-old chocolate lab.
‘I’d say about double the amount,’ John replied.
John gave up expecting a response about the raspberries. Mike was renowned for being somewhat off and awkward where it came to regular chats, but that didn’t stop the townsfolk from talking to him, everyone valued his insight on nature and his uncanny knowledge of how the seasons impact the crops and make the fish and animals behave – he clearly was the best hunter and fisherman around…and he could just touch an engine and know what’s wrong with it. Frank Shaw the owner of the small local ski hill would have Mike do the annual overhaul on the ski-lift and always ask him how much snow he expected over winter -Frank would plan ahead by Mike’s report. Many others tapped Mike’s special insights this way.
John started bagging the groceries. ‘How’s that dehumidifier I fixed for you?’ asked Mike.
‘It’s working great, but I can’t believe it,’ said John, ‘there’s been hardly any humidity over the past months – dry as a bone – I haven’t had to empty it for 8 weeks.’
Mike nodded. He took his bags and went outside.
‘John,' Mike turned around from the sidewalk and said, "there sure are more wasps than usual buzzing around your garbage bins.’ Mike laughed and added, ‘are you throwing away honey.’
Mike shot over to the hardware store and picked up some supplies. He drove home and dropped off the groceries and supplies and then went for a drive around the valley. He wanted to see if he could observe or feel anything unusual – any signs to help make sense of his dream.
He fumbled around in the glove compartment for his sunglasses, a CD dropped out - it was a CD of various musicians Ginger downloaded. Mike had never seen it before. It was labeled ‘Raspberry Moon Music.’ He put it in the CD player. Johnny Cash came on singing ‘Burning Ring of Fire.’ Mike smiled and a tear rolled down his cheek as he started belting out…
‘I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.’
He drove and stopped at some of his favourite sites – places he had a special connection with. He had shared these locations with Ginger and explained what it was that drew him to the trees or rocks or water.
Mike thought back to his first meeting with his Great Uncle - a prominent Blackfoot Chief…Ginger arranged it. His name was Mountain Big Bear. After an hour of sitting and talking on the front porch at Mike and Ginger’s cabin, Mountain said, ‘I can salvage you from the years of miseducation you’ve had at a White Man’s school.’
‘I didn’t really pay attention to any of those teachers,’ Mike said and laughed.
‘Your teachers have mouths and no ears – how can they expect you to listen when they don’t…that’s why there is hope for you,’ said Mountain with a big grin.
Mountain then told the story of when he attended White Man’s school on the reservation…it was grade 8 and the students had to write a short story and read it out loud every week in class. Mountain’s best friend Tommy Howling Wolf had the best stories, after a few months the teacher realized that Tommy could not read or write and he was making up the stories and telling them from memory. The teacher put Tommy out in the hallway on a chair wearing a dunce cap for an entire week - Tommy had the biggest and happiest grin stretching across his face as his fellow students passed by. The teachers couldn’t understand why and some of them were very irritated by Tommy's display.
‘We never did tell the teachers that in our culture we acknowledge pride and greatness in a person by donning them with headwear,' said Mountain with a great laugh, adding, 'Tommy thought he was being honoured.’
'My father laughed with joy when I told him this...and he said to me, "the one who tell the stories rule the world",' said Mountain.
Mountain told Ginger that the Blackfoot believe everyone is born with instinctive traits gifted to us by nature and this can vary between persons, but other than this hard wiring, newborns are mostly a blank slate. This is good because the community has a creative hand in helping each person fill the blank slate while guiding them toward the positive side of their destiny. Without this guidance sometimes a person can embrace the negative side of their totem and their destiny can be gloomy and destructive.
Each person is a work-of-art the community has a hand in – for example, if destiny sets out a child's colours as blue and green and their totem is an otter the community does not try to make them red and brown or a fox. The effort that goes into creating this work-of-art requires keen observation and compassion from the community, but most of all a sincere two-way connectedness must be created between everyone involved. Raising a child requires close attention to details to see the colours, hear the rhythms and determine the totems that moves the child - guided by this insight the nurturing comes from parents, elders, siblings, friends and even strangers – no one person raises a child.
‘The creation of life only begins with child birth,’ Mountain said with conviction. ‘It is in the ongoing celebration of shaping and sculpting this life where everyone grows and learns the life lessons needed to fulfill their purpose - it leads us to the paths we must choose on our journey...and every journey should end with virtue and enlightenment.’
'But, how do you know you've reached a state of enlightenment,' asked Mike.
'Mike when you were born you cried...and the world rejoiced,' replied Mountain, 'if you live your life that so when you die the world cries...and you rejoice - then you've been on the right path.'
'But, there is a way to know before you die,' said Mountain, 'it is when the singing and music keeps playing in your soul and your heart long after the Drum Circle falls silent,' replied Mountain as he lightly tapped his chest.
Ginger was glad to hear that according to Mountain, Mike was still a blank slate after all these years of exposure to the White Man’s ways and could be taught Native ways.
‘Mike’s inner visions and gift are like a strong magnet pulling him in,’ Mountain said. ‘This has kept Mike on his own track and saved him from the magnetism that tricks and draws many seekers of truth away from the spheres of their spiritual roots to the cultural practices and philosophies at the core of the White Man’s Universe – they make it hard to resist, but his personal convictions are unyielding and have taken him down a different path – that’s why he lives on the outskirts of town...and that’s why he married a beautiful mystic.’
Ginger lit up with joy upon hearing this and gave Mountain a big hug and whispered something in his ear. Then Mountain looked at Mike and said, 'When a river flows out to the ocean its many currents do not cease, they continue to surge as endless waves within the oneness of the ocean.'
Mike was perplexed and asked Ginger what she said, but she kept it a secret. It was not until twenty-three years later over her last few days of life when she was bedridden at home that she felt compelled to tell Mike what she said that day…I said ‘I know my time will be short on this Earth, but before I leave I want Mike to firmly believe in the Spirit World – show Mike how to connect – teach him your ways.’
Mike thought back to Mountain's remark about the river at that time and knew that much of what Mountain said was not for the Mike at that place and time, but for a place and time years into the future...long after Mountain's death his words were educating the future Mike.
**************************************************
On his quest to get to the bottom of his crazy dream Mike went to his absolute favourite place. He drove up an abandoned logging road - the road ended halfway up a mountain. Mike then hiked about 20 minutes up a rocky path to a flat smooth rock ledge looking over the valley. The path was not apparent, even to Mike's keen vision...it was invisible until someone pointed it out, then it stood out like steps leading up to a great cathedral. It was Mountain who first showed Mike this hidden path and the magical place it led to – a sacred and private perch overlooking the valley. It was on one of Mountain’s early visits to Ginger and Mike’s cabin that he took Mike up there – Mike was shocked no one in town knew about it.
Looking out over the land below, Mountain told Mike the story about creation. How in the beginning, the Creator floated on a log with four animals - the animals were: fish, frog, lizard, and turtle. The Creator sent all of them into the deep water one after another. The first three had gone down and returned with nothing. The turtle went down and retrieved mud from the bottom. The turtle gave the mud to the Creator, in whose hands the mud was moulded to create the Earth. From the Creator’s hands the Earth rolled out and over time it has grown to what it is today. Next the Creator made woman and then man and then other creatures and objects to nurture and live in harmony with the people. Over the years to come Mountain told Mike many more Blackfoot stories like how the moon and sun came to be and their extraordinary relationship of love and betrayal and their endless pursuit of revenge.
On this first visit to the ledge, Mountain and Mike sat crossed-legged on the flat stone gazing out across the expanse.
‘That is a mighty little tree,’ said Mountain pointing to a small Redwood tree perched on the edge.
‘That tree is as old as the tallest 400 foot Redwood trees back deep in the forest - almost 500-years old.' Mountain looked over his shoulder toward the heart of the forest then his eyes fell back on the little Redwood tree.
'Being exposed to all the elements and with little soil to fasten on to, this tree will never get any taller than twenty-five feet.' Mountain swept his hand across the vista and said, 'Although it is little it has even a better view of the world than its brothers who live deep in the forest. And although its roots do not run deep, they run far and wide and stretch out over a much greater expanse and varied terrain than its brothers.'
‘It reminds me of you,' Mountain laughed and said.
'I’ve been thinking of a good Blackfoot name for you…"Mighty Little Tree,” that suits you perfectly,’ declared Mountain.
‘Another important consideration,' Mountain went on to explain, 'is that this small Redwood clinging to the ledge does not share in the understory of the forest – as do the huckleberry, hemlock, rhododendrons, sword ferns and other such things living in unison with the trees and thriving under the dense canopy of the Redwood forest – this small tree is apart from all that – it is isolated from its brothers - you too are separate and not part of the White Man’s or the Native’s world – you are not rooted deeply in either world.’
‘This tree is an important totem for you,’ said Mountain, ‘It will teach you that some people…like you…are meant to stand out and alone from their worlds, but this is not so you can be a loner or a hermit, but rather for you to better see these different worlds and serve your two communities as a guardian.’
Mountain moved closer to Mike and put his arm around his shoulders and said, ‘Our people believe that every individual has an essential purpose to fulfill within the community and when the time is right and as they are called to serve this purpose everyone will see a special spark in this person’s eyes and know to listen and act on his or her leadership – I believe White Men say “your time to shine.”'
‘Well if I’m a guardian…from here I have a great view of the town nestled in the forest down below – it’s very beautiful,’ said Mike.
‘Ha,’ huffed Mountain, then he laughed and added, ‘It may look beautiful, but it was stupid to build the town in that location.’
‘Why?’ asked Mike. ‘Is it sacred land for your people?’
‘Sacred land,’ Mountain said sarcastically. Mountain laughed loudly, it sounded like thunder echoing across the canyon.
‘No, it was where my people buried our sewage and waste for hundreds of years – it was our garbage dump.’ He had a serious face and added, ‘it is stupid to build there because it is vulnerable to attack…it is not safe.’
‘No one’s going to attack it anymore in this day and age,’ Mike said matter-a-factly.
‘I hope you unlearn the smugness of the White Man’s ways,’ Mountain replied. ‘We never feared that someone or tribe would attack us in that location…it was vulnerable to the elements attacking it – not someone…a child could see by the plentiful juniper and sumac growing there that over the centuries this land was repeatedly assaulted by nature.’
‘It astounds me when I see people building permanent homes on flood plains and well known hurricane paths,' Mountain rolled his eyes and went on to explain. 'They don’t understand the signs and ways of nature and the anger nature can unleash – attacking the realm of men who think they are above nature.’ He paused and reflected for a moment, adding, ‘that’s not to say Native people don’t put ourselves in the way of harm from Nature's wrath, but we do so when the benefits outweigh the risks and we do it with great respect and reverence and with our eyes constantly turned toward the sky and ears pressed against the earth.’
‘We are always interpreting the powers wielded by the Great Spirit’ said Mountain. ‘We are humble and do what we must to live in harmony with the elements. We have an appreciation for the awesome power of nature and the Great Spirit – you must know the relationship and cycles between creation and destruction.’
‘This is why I share our stories with you,' said Mountain looking up to the sky as if the Great Spirit was visible. 'There is a time and place to dive into the pool of nature’s warm offerings to reap rewards and a time to read the signs and stay clear or run from its wrath before it can wipe you out.’
'I believe many White Men find our parables and fables foolish,' said Mountain with dismay, looking deeply into Mike’s eyes. 'They fail to see the wisdom in them…in fact, I see that many of them have even turned a blind eye to the insightful fables in their own Bible. I need you to dispense logic and feel these stories in your heart and let them wake in your spirit...then you will learn the lessons in them.’
They fell into silence as they sat overlooking the vista. An eagle flew by with a fish clasped in its talons.
‘Ah, the Great Spirit is offering you a teaching - lesson number one,’ Mountain said. ‘You must learn to see with your inner senses and not just your eyes…reach inside yourself for true vision.’
Mountain pointed to the eagle as it perched on a treetop and picked at its fish meal.
‘The light passing from air to water bends and distorts the image of the fish below the water - this refraction makes it hard for eagles to know exactly where the fish are in the water. Their keen eye sight doesn’t have any adaptations to correct for the refraction, but their inner senses do.’
'The first fish young eagles successfully catch are often dead ones floating right on the surface of the water,' explained Mountain as he put his hands together to symbolize an eagle in flight. 'They miss live prey a lot when they're first learning to fish. Fortunately, with experience they slowly learn how to rely on their inner senses to adjust their angle of attack and correctly swoop in and pick out the fish from the water. With such excellent vision many creatures would be vain and refuse to acknowledge a flaw with their gift – never learning to adjust to its environment like the eagle.’
‘I see many white people gifted with flamboyant speech – a golden tongue – take your politicians, sales people, inspirational speakers and so on…however, most of them are vain and never learn to listen - none of them have ears,’ said Mountain. 'They do not know that listening is the wellspring of good speech.'
'Long ago the government sent a team of politicians, social workers, planners and architects to our Reserve to assess the people’s needs for building new homes,' said Mountain. 'Afterwards, they came back and built a bunch of two and three-bedroom bungalows. A year later the same team came back to the Reserve to see how things were going with the new dwellings – expecting the people to be thankful and appreciative of their new homes. Instead they found the bedrooms and living room walls torn down to create one big open space with the kitchen moved to the centre. The government officials were astonished and upset at what they found.'
'They rushed over to my place and asked why our people did this?'
'You have no ears I told them…I pointed out that they came and asked about our housing needs…I asked them what type of people would put a child in a room alone and separated from the rest of the family…what type of people separate cooking from a living space – why would we divide each other up in this way – we tore down the walls the way loved ones tear down barriers between themselves…to be united and supportive around a common circle of love and caring.'
'Did you not listen when you asked us about the nature of our homes, I asked the leader of the government team?' Mountain scratched his head as if he was still bewildered by their ignorance to that day.
‘I’ve been to Washington...I've seen the so called wise men you elect gather at councils,' Mountain said. 'All they do is yell and scream – witty, sarcastic, rhetoric and pompous remarks – masters of the word, but none of them have ears…they're making sounds for themselves yet are convinced of its edifying properties.'
'I don’t understand why they won’t learn how to adjust their gift for talk with a equal skill to listen,' Mountain said as he tossed his hands high into the air as if surrendering to the Great Spirit. He sighed and added, 'they’d be more successful champions of virtue if they did…it’s very sad.’
‘Imagine if the eagle refused to acknowledge the flaw in its keen vision and did not tap its inner senses to catch fish – it would starve…I think many of your politicians and leaders are malnourished where it comes to knowledge, truth and righteousness.’
'It's better to have less thunder in the mouth and more lightening in the hand,' Mountain said as he held the open palm of his hand.
'Remember, Mike,' concluded Mountain, 'The Great Spirit gave us two ears and only one mouth, so we can talk half as much as we listen.'
Mike was fixed on watching the eagle devour the fish.
‘If you close your eyes for 15 minutes you’ll see better,’ said Mountain, ‘I know you have the gift.’
With his eyes closed, after a few minutes, Mike could sense a deer running through the woods behind them, he felt the vibration of the ants tunnelling in ground, the hairs on his arm felt an eagle misplacing the air as it flew by in silence, his nostrils flared with the scent of a mountain lion and he could hear a bear scratching its back on a maple tree. Mike told his uncle about these sensations.
‘Very good, now open your eyes,’ said Mountain, ‘Can you see the snow covered valley?’ Mike didn’t know what he was talking about - it was July.
‘I see what was there before I closed my eyes,’ Mike said,
‘Too bad,’ Mountain replied, ‘I was hoping your gift would take you beyond the limitation of your five senses and time…maybe someday your inner senses will reveal more.’
**************************************
Mike’s thoughts came back to his current problem. His dream from last night made him think that Mountain was right – his gift was finally waking up from a deep slumber. Ginger’s dream catcher also had something to do with the awaking, as it was made with redwood cones gathered from Mike’s totem tree and other spiritual artefacts she knew were important - she told Mike it would have special powers.
He sat on the ledge crossed-legged just like he would with his uncle. He looked over at his totem tree and was startled at what he saw. A small raspberry bush with over a dozen fully ripened raspberries on the cane had taken hold at the roots of the Redwood tree. It was a rare and beautiful event – it brought him peace and he knew it had a deep meaning.
He closed his eyes. Suddenly, his visions moved into fast forward…moving at a speed he had never experienced. He saw whole herds of deer panicking and running through the forest, packs of wolves fleeing their hunting grounds at full speed, colonies of ants frantically digging deeper, swarms of bees deserting the hive and leaving the valley, and turkey vultures riding impossibly high air currents in anticipation of dinner. Next, the vision collapsed into an explosion of red, yellow and amber and then into blackness…then nothing. He opened his eyes…for a fleeting couple of seconds he saw a devastated valley below of burnt and charred trees enveloped in smoldering ambers and dark smoke, and the town laid in ruins. He shook his head and the valley appeared normal…as it was before.
It was all coming together now. At all his stops along the way he had seen unusual signs – insects, land animals, birds, and fish were all acting differently…almost like winter was drawing near, but even more hyper and frantic. The water levels in the rivers were too low and the pine cones were unraveling and falling apart before their time…this and so many other observations seemed out of sync with the month of July and spelled ‘danger.’ Mike closed his eyes and listened to his inner voices interpretation of the visions - it told him there was a great fire storm coming their way.
He ran back to his truck. He started the engine. The stereo began playing, ‘Bad Moon Rising,’ by CCR…
I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today
He realized the timely relevance of the song and smirked as he quickly drove to Town Hall - the Fire and Police Departments were located there. Mike saw Jim Wilson, the Fire Chief, on the front steps.
‘Hey, Jim can I have a word with you,’ asked Mike.
‘Sure,’ said Jim.
‘Can we get Don…I think we need to include him in this discussion,’ said Mike. Don Black was the Police Chief.
Mike went to high school with both Jim and Don – they all like each other. Mike was hoping that their friendship would help make what he wanted to tell them less difficult than it was going to be.
‘Ok, guys, don’t think I’ve gone crazy here,’ Mike said, ‘but I have very good reasons to believe that our town will be under siege from a wicked forest fire – the perfect fire storm – we need to either evacuate or do something to prevent this or else many people will die.’
Jim and Don respected Mike, but by the look on their faces, Mike could tell they didn’t believe him. He told them about all the signs he saw…animals acting weird, pinecones falling apart, low water levels and so on. As a last resort he told them about his gift and his visions. This was a mistake – it made it worse. Jim and Don knew that Mike was hit pretty hard when Ginger died…he almost had a meltdown. They believe that Mike meant well, but he was still mourning and sad about losing Ginger and thus the terrible visions.
Mike tried to convince them to take action, he said, ‘At least clear cut and control burn some bush to make a containment line around the town – that wouldn’t hurt anything.’ They explained that they didn’t have the time, men or money to do that based on a wild premonition – on top of it Town Council wouldn’t buy it, but they promised to tell the Mayor, Harry Small about Mike's vision. Upon hearing about it Harry said, ‘that’s pure nonsense.’
*********************************************
Back at home, Mike was feeling down that Jim and Don as well as the Mayor would not take him seriously. Oddly, it reminded him of a fable that Mountain told him about the 'Great Bee Hive.'
Thousands of years ago a Great Queen Bee persuaded all the bees across the land to leave their small bee hives and build one giant Beehive - to be called the Great Beehive. She told them that together they’d be stronger and greater. So they built the Great Beehive. It was the size of the moon attached to the branches of four enormous Redwood trees suspended just above the ground. In the beginning the hive was prosperous and the bees in the new colony were content and safe. Then one day a group of foraging bees came back to the hive with news that all the bears sleuths across the land were banding together to ravage the Great Beehive. The bravest of the foraging bees was chosen to deliver the message to the Queen Bee.
On his journey to the centre of the Great Beehive the brave foraging bee encountered the drone bees, nurse bees, feeding bees, fanning bees, water carrier bees, honeycomb building bees, pollen packing bees, mortuary bees and so on. At each pass they would ask the brave foraging bee the purpose of his mission – upon hearing that all the bears of the land had banned together they laughed and dismissed his warning. Knowing time was not on their side, the brave foraging bee was shocked at how long it was taking to pass through all the layers of the Great Beehive to reach the Queen’s inner layer.
Finally the brave foraging bee reached the Queen's attendants. They heard his message and scoffed at him, but they said they would give his message to the Queen Bee. Upon hearing the message the Queen Bee said, ‘All the bears banning together, this could never happen.’
On his way out one of the Queen’s attendant bees told the brave foraging bee that she believed him. She said small beehives allowed us to believe and act upon each individual bee. In our Great Beehive we lost our bond of community…we lost touch with the individual bee and we no longer acted as a collective because the truth is lost in the large and complex layers of the hive – a collective cannot be if it is not in sync with each and every individual. She gathered up two Queen Bee larvae and left with the brave foraging bee.
Along the way out they were joined by a few of each type of bee – enough to start another colony. Minutes after they flew out of the hive all the bears converged on the hive. The bears attacked and destroyed the Great Beehive and the remaining colony of bees all died.
Mountain simply concluded the story by pointing out that if the brave foraging bee had not delivered his message and found a few believers the honey bee would have been gone forever from Earth.
*****************************************************
The next morning Mike knew what he had to do.
He came back into town to fill some gas cans. David Parks the owner of the gas station helped Mike fill them up. Mike told David about his vision. Frank Shaw, the ski hill owner, was filling up his truck and overheard the story.
Later that morning Don was in his police car on the edge of town and saw Mike, David and Frank heading out of town in Mike's pickup truck – the back was loaded up with gear and equipment. Don could hear loud music pouring out of the truck –
‘Hold tight, we're in for nasty weather
There has got to be a way
Burning down the house
Here's your ticket, pack your bags, time for jumpin' overboard
Transportation is here
Close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are
Fightin' fire with fire.’
‘Burning Down the House’ by Talking Heads…that’s the song Don said to himself like he was on a quiz show.
‘Cheeky devils,’ he then he said out loud.
He concluded that Mike and the boys must be delivering items Mike had fixed back to customers or given the song he was playing it may be more likely that they were over reacting to Mike’s fearful premonition and running away to safe ground – Don laughed at the last thought.
******************************************************
It was Tuesday at 3 p.m. a week after Mike came to Town Hall with his wild story. Without warning the skies turned dark and thunder roared throughout the valley and lightning lit up the horizon in all directions. No one had ever seen anything like it – storms always came from one direction – there was no rain, there was just lightning bolts going off in a circle all around the town - like fireworks. Strong winds kicked up dust and objects tossing them around in circles.
Jim was in his office at the Fire Hall - his phone rang. It was Jack Gibbons, the Head of the National Forest Service – he sounded tense. He told Jim that multiple lightening strikes had hit numerous trees surrounding the town…it was not in the forecast…it was a flash storm that just instantaneously came up on the radar and within minutes became all a giant lightening storm…he’d never seen this type of storm – dry air, low humidity, multiple lightening strikes in a five mile wide circle combined with super dehydrated tree crowns and arid land cover – it was a recipe for disaster.
‘The town will be engulfed by the fire before we can get help to you,’ said Jack. ‘And the satellite view is showing that the two roads leading out of town have been totally cut off with burning fallen trees – we dispatched emergency responders but the smoke and fire is too intense – they’d won’t be able to help the town.’
‘You’re on your own,’ Jack said. ‘I suggest you gather the townsfolk and seek refuge in the basement of the Town Hall. You should have some of your men volunteer to stay at street level to keep the water hoses on the parameter of the Town Hall - as long as the water runs...and you should all pray to God.'
‘Don’t under estimate this Jim, it could burn the entire town down and the fire or smoke could kill everyone,’ Jack added in a worried tone.
Within half an hour Jim and Don rounded up the townsfolk. Everyone took shelter in the basement at Town Hall. They lined the window and door seams with wet towels and blankets. Outside the fire and smoke was a like a giant tidal wave - a hundred feet high quickly coming up on them from all directions. They could hear the thunderous hissing and crackling sounds - it was becoming deafening. Families and friends were huddled together in the basement - kids were frantically crying and parents were trying to calm them down. Men working outside could feel the scorching heat on their faces - it was becoming unbearable.
Jim turned to Don and said, ‘I’ve never seen anything this big or menacing…I don’t know if we’ll live through this…you may want to go and be with your wife and kids.’
Don kept at the hose, as did the rest of the crew.
The fire raced closer to the edge of town. A raging wall of fire seemed ready to slam down on them. The heat became intolerable for the crew. The police and firemen had to abandon the hoses and take refuge with the rest of the people in the basement. Everyone began to pray. The basement was as hot as a sauna – everyone was sweating and turning red. Luckily there was no smoke. After a few hours the fire subsided and the temperature dropped back to normal. All this time Jim was on the emergency satellite phone with Jack and other officials from the National Forest Service.
‘Hey Jim,' Jack's voice shouted out of the satellite phone speaker. 'We just did a fly over…you guys are amazing - to be so prepared - wow...whoever thought about cutting a containment line around the town…it’s the only thing that saved you.’
Jim couldn’t believe his ears.
The next day when it was safe, two fire crews went to check the damage and the mysterious containment line that had been cut. The first fire crew saw a body face down on a small rock outcrop - it was covered in gray ashes and almost look like it was part of the rock. They ran over to it.
Jim turned the body over – it was Mike. He wasn’t burned, but he was lifeless. He wasn’t breathing…they took his pulse…he was dead. Jim fought back the tears.
'Mike must have died of smoke fixation,' Jim said to the crew. Jim and three others picked up Mike and carried him to the truck. Shocked and saddened the rest of the crew gather Mike’s chainsaw, axe, shovel and other belongings.
‘I heard Mike warned us about this,’ said one of the crew on the way back to the truck.
There was a commotion further up the mountain - the second crew was coming down and yelling for paramedics. They were descending from a burnt out stone path - the crew members were helping David and Frank hobble over to the paramedics. They were given some oxygen and they caught their breath.
They told the crew that they had spent the last week making the containment line, but the fire was rushing in on them with only a small gap to finish…the smoke was getting unbearable. Mike sent them on a path up the mountain – they had no idea the path was there until Mike pointed it out and told them there was a rock ledge at the end of the path - Mike said it would protect them. Mike would finish the cut. He said he'd be up in no time.
'As we went up the path, I heard Mike singing and then a woman joined in - it was the strangest thing,' exclaimed David.
'I heard it too...they were singing, "Burning ring of Fire"' said Frank. 'We must have been deprived of oxygen and hallucinating.'
'Damn it...Mike never made it,' said David with tears streaming down his cheeks. 'We laid face down on the rock. The ledge offered refuge for us to survive the inferno - just like Mike said it would,' added David.
***********************************************
Back in town people were reeling from the aftermath of the fire and the miracle that Mike, David and Frank pulled off to save them. Hordes of people were placing flowers on Mike's front lawn. Hundreds of admirers were holding a daily ongoing memorial to Mike at Town Hall.
With Ginger gone Mike had nobody to close down his affairs. David and Frank went to Mike’s cabin to help take care of things. Jim and Don were already there to officially deal with Mike's affairs on behalf of the town. On the kitchen table they found an open letter and two envelopes.
Written on the open letter was, ‘Hey, Jim and Don, don’t feel bad about not believing me – it was a farfetched vision – I hope I was wrong - if not I hope the town is safe - Your good buddy Mike.’
One of the envelopes simply had 'My Will' written on the outside. The second envelope was addressed to John Hicks - the store owner.
In his Will Mike gave his property and possessions to the local Blackfoot tribe and asked that his house serve as a Native Cultural Appreciation Centre. Mike asked that the two communities work together and share in the well being of the overall community - listen to the worker bees he added.
David and Frank saw the dream catcher on the kitchen table – Mike had told them about it. They took the dream catcher and hiked back up to the ledge that saved their lives. All around as far as the eye could see the giant redwoods in the forest had been destroyed…only the small redwood on the ledge survived. At the base of the small redwood by the raspberry bush they lay the dream catcher on the ground and began to pile earth, twigs and redwood needles over it.
‘Oh, my God,’ David said.
‘What’s up,’ asked Frank.
‘Look at the cones on the dream catcher…they came from this little redwood,’ replied David. ‘This must have been some kind of sacred place for Mike and Ginger...this is amazing.’
They finished burying the dream catcher and said a pray. They stood on the ledge looking over the valley and up the mountain - they were speechless. They gathered a handful of cones from the small redwood and as they walked back to their truck they scattered the cones throughout the burnt out forest, knowing they would open and take root in the smouldering earth.
The entire town, numerous other local communities and soon the entire country heard about the miracle - how one man gifted with a vision saved over 1,000 people in his home town. Jim and Don along with the mayor arranged a hero’s funeral for Mike. They had to have the service outside the church to accommodate the Blackfoot drum circle and all the out of town people that showed up for the service…along with reporters and trucks from all the big network TV news channels.
The next day David showed up at John Hick's grocery store.
‘Hey John,’ said David, ‘Mike had a letter he wanted to have passed your way.’
Jim had just parked his fire truck in front of the store and rushed in - he wanted to be there to find out what Mike said in the letter.
John opened the letter and read it out loud,
‘Hi John, I wanted to get back to you on your question about how the raspberries would do this season. Well, I thought about is for some time after I left the store.
You told me that Nelly was getting more deer ticks than last year, this means the deer are thriving thus far this season which means that the June supply of strawberries deep in the forest must have been exceptional.
You might remember that you told me your dehumidifier was not filling up as much as usual – that’s a good indication of low humidity in the forest understory yet the spring runoff really soaked the ground.
And as I was leaving your store I noticed that there were more wasps than usual buzzing around your garbage bins – well, that’s a sign that flowers were being widely cross pollinated this spring.
Put this all together my friend – it means a good bounty of raspberries this July…get out there on the day of Raspberry Moon and you won’t be disappointed.
Respectfully Yours,
Mike
P.S. Ginger planted a raspberry bush in our backyard that has become an enormous patch – they don’t need any attention, they take care of themselves – please feel free to pick the berries –anyone can help themselves - make a few pies...enjoy.
And please tell everyone to think of Ginger and me every Raspberry Moon.’
