Passed Wood Springs

out past summit ont he road west to Ganado there is an old trading
post, Cross Canyon it was called it is just a shell of what once was
there but beyond that there is a road that goes to a place called Wood
Springs, it is in the pines and i am on the road there. travelling a
long ways to get there, it is a windy dirt road, taking my red
cherokee off road over bumpy roads about 4 or 5 miles off the main
highway past the brush oak and red berry bushes which we call
chilchin, there is a shade house packed with the smell of food
cooking, mutton ribs, hot coffee, fry bread and stew. in the way of
things there are many vehicles gathered there, and the night is long.
there will be three large bon fires of cedar lighting the midnight sky
with golden embers taking the chill out of night air. The flickering
light will cast long shadows across the sage.

from the darkness they will emerge, those figures, dietiess, they are,
covered in white paint gathered from White Clay, masked faces and
necks ringed with pine boughs and they will step in time the lead
singer howling out and rotating his arm high and making the hoot
sound, and they will begin, those twelve lined up there and they will
move as one singing and dancing together in the tradition of many
winters. a ways off in the ceremonial hogan, the kindred spirits of
the twin heros will fight off the monsters that come taking and
restoring through prayer and sacrifice the enemy, those monsters that
come to the mind and body causing affliction, with a circle of sand.
he sits there from Ganado, once young and now old, his name is said
quietly and there he takes his songs and recounts the words over and
over praying and telling the same stories again and again. in the
minds of those there and in the midnight sky, the stars tell of the
wars fought for men's hearts against dark forces and the beings of
light dance among the stars. yeehaaah, it is winter and the yei-be-che
is waiting for me as i step into this world far from city lights
shedding the trappings of civilization to the sound of rattles and
ancient calls will take me home and restore my soul. the yei-be-che
lives and this night till morning light i will be tasting cedar smoke,
hot coffee and and smell of traditional food cooked over an evening
fire and hear the chants and songs of my peole. in the distance you
can hear the laughter of children, young and old on this the third
night of nine...so it goes with me tonight, leaving now to be there
after midnight...rustywire