Part Two: The Spark of Curiosity

Chapter 23: The Coyote

Moments before her appearance in the yard, a pair of moccasins had calmly strolled upon the soil at Wahkeena. After they parked in the distant lot, his grandson ambled down that long driveway to say hello to an old friend. But this wise old fellow had many local inhabitants to greet along the way.

His walk was as gentle as a dove, careful as a fox, and silent as a breeze. Each step was a prayer, and he could feel the joy from the Earth, so pleased with his return.

The man who hovered above those moccasins was Tom Wolf, 83 years of age, and ready for his next adventure.

He did not know why he’d been called back after such a short time spent with his family. Nevertheless, he had to follow his inner wisdom. Clearly this was where he was meant to be at that moment.

Placidly, he sauntered past the queen snake, who was sunning herself on the rocks next to the pond. Beneath his feet the gravel barely moved, and he did not disturb her slumber. In another glance, he sent a silent greeting to the painted turtle poking its head out of the pond water. Then he nodded to the green frog, and the lily pad it sat on.

The old man noted the new efforts to clog the culvert. Grinning, he could imagine the beavers’ mischief and determination in their nocturnal endeavors. Likewise, he charted the mouse highways in the weeds on the west side of the driveway, near the marsh. Oh! One had been snatched by an owl early that morning. By the size of the talons that hit the ground, it was either great-horned, or barred. He knew of a nesting pair of great-horned owls up in a rock crevasse to the north, and that felt right to him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to really examine the tracks… his heart urged him to move on.

Proceeding toward the lodge, the man sent his goodwill toward the cattails standing proudly along the edge of the pond. At various times in his life, he had used every part of that noble plant. He’d eaten the roots, corms, undeveloped heads, as well as the pollen, during different seasons. He’d made fire tinder with the downy seed heads. With the dried leaves he’d woven baskets, and thatched a shelter. He had much respect for his brothers, the cattails.

Slowing his stride even further, he examined the goose scat on the graveled path. By now he could barely tell them apart, but something told him that this belonged to one of the nearly-grown goslings.

Up ahead, he could hear his grandson conversing with someone, but couldn’t see them behind the foliage. Unconcerned, he knew the humans weren’t going anywhere; he would have plenty of time to socialize over a good meal. He wasn’t finished with his silent reunion, so he went back to cherishing the land.

By that point he’d reached the entrance of the path which led to the cabins, on the left. The rain from last night had washed away the background commotion, so he could only track that day’s activities. Stopping his stride altogether, he stood to read the volumes held in the soil.

There was an elderly couple that walked together. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he remembered them as the birdwatchers from West Virginia. Then there was the young girl who liked wildflowers, and her father was with her also.

The other family he couldn’t quite place. A man, woman, and a young boy. The woman was always carrying a load. The man was about 150 pounds… left-handed… Ah – it was Terry – he saw him in the flesh, walking away toward the restroom. With a smirk, he turned his attention back to the ground.

That’s when he saw it.

Feline; direct registration, and no claws. Too large to be a housecat. It was definitely a bobcat. His heart fluttered in his chest, and he dropped to his knees in excitement. He’d never seen a bobcat in the area before!

He picked a leaf out of the nearest track, dropped his face down to the level of the ground, and inspected it like a detective. Adult female. New to the area, so she was alert but not skittish. Cautious, but not insecure. She was alone and had no offspring with her.

The mysterious cat had slinked through the grass on the right side of the driveway, coming surprisingly close to the yard. The ancient tracker scuttled around her trail like a bloodhound on a scent, but careful not to disturb the impressions. Proceeding, he wondered what had pushed her out of her home territory at that age.

And then it was gone. The next track was completely obscured by a human footprint; an adult female.

At first he was disappointed by the loss of that delicious narrative as it was just unfolding. However, this new track held its own idiosyncrasies. He did not recognize the maker of this track at all. She was apparently alone, and her shoes did not belong to her. Interesting.

About twelve inches later was another bobcat track. He examined it hungrily, and was amazed to find the next one again was perfectly covered over by this mystery woman.

She walked as if on a mission; sure of herself, but not overly confident. New to the area, not very aware, and… feeling out of place.

For the second time in five minutes, the old man’s heart skipped a beat. With deep concentration, he gently brushed a hand over this footprint. Yes, something had pushed her out of her home territory, as well. It was all right there; secrets held within the tracks.

And there she was.

She’d just rushed to the end of the sidewalk, and peered in the opposite direction. She didn’t look as he’d expected her to, but that was of no consequence to him. It was her. He was sure of it.

Chapter 28: Wisdom at the Spring

The word coma would be a suitable choice to describe Katrina’s sleep that night. When she finally stirred and stretched, still cozy in her bed, she felt deliciously refreshed. Her phone was not, however. Poking it insistently, it never came to life, and she had no bedside clock in that big, vacant room.

Strangely, she discovered it was still dark as she looked around. She’d never had the habit of getting up before dawn, especially on a day off. Yet her sleep cycle was complete and she was ready for… something. After pulling on her least-worn change of clothes, she quietly stepped out of the bedroom.

Tentatively, she glanced at Daniel’s door, wondering if he was awake yet. It was closed, so she crept downstairs to see if he was there. He wasn’t in the kitchen, and she wasn’t exactly disappointed about it, either. However, she didn’t know how to make coffee with his machine. So… what to do?

The feeling inside her was a little uneasy, but not anxious. It was nagging, but not specific. It felt like she was forgetting something, but she couldn’t imagine what it could be. She was on vacation; there were no responsibilities here.

Since she had to wait for Daniel anyway, she wondered if there was anything outside she hadn’t explored yet. Excitedly, she remembered the spring everybody was talking about. With that thought, the feeling in her chest gave way to relief. The dewy grass dampened her toes as she made her way toward the north woods. Her wet sandals didn’t affect her eager morning mood… but her disposition changed the instant she hit the tree line.

The mist lingered around the trunks of the trees, snaking between the ferns and rhododendrons. The air was so still it felt like walking into a lonely cathedral. As she tiptoed along the path, the feeling became stronger. It was an eerie sensation; like being watched - from everywhere. But it wasn’t menacing. There was something almost sacred about it. Deliberately, she breathed and surrendered to the feeling.

By reaching out with her senses, she could smell the Earth, the fungus, and the moss. The cool fog raised goose bumps, yet it felt refreshing against her skin. Just as the mellow radiance began to rise in the East, she could see droplets of water gathering on a single oak leaf. It was subtly exquisite; she was captivated by the ambiance. Looking closely, she noticed the thick, shiny robustness of the leaf. She observed its veins, and the insect eggs that formed a series of galls underneath. Such personality. And in that tiny drop of water, she saw the reflection of everything… including herself.

By the time she reached the fork in the path and she could just see over the hilltop, each step was being carefully placed. She made no sound. She barely breathed. This turned out to be fortunate, because in a few more steps she noticed she wasn’t the only person in the forest. When she saw Tom she stopped suddenly, feeling as if she was interrupting something. In the middle of a broad clearing, he sat with his eyes closed.

Trying to make herself diminutive, she looked for a place to wait and observe, so she wouldn’t startle him. Glancing to the right of the trail, she saw a squishy pad of moss just behind a giant tree. There she stationed herself, missing all the crackly sticks and crinkly brown leaves that would give her away.

She intended to greet him as soon as he… woke up. Until then, her eyes began to wander. First to the giant rock formation behind him; it was a prominent layer of sandstone that had erupted from the ground, and the soil washed away to form this broad covey. At its tallest point it was just large enough for a person to stand under. The upper face of the rock wall was laced with a relief pattern, like Braille hieroglyphs. This strange honeycomb configuration left darkened streaks that ran down the stone’s surface. There was something different about that deposit; it clearly wasn’t soft stone like the rest.

Just beyond her focus, she knew there was something else tucked away within the cave. She couldn’t define it yet, but it seemed like a pile of rocks from that distance. On the east side of the trail there was a quaint little water garden, lined with rocks and lilies. Even from her hiding place, she could count at least four frogs scattered around its edges. That must have been the spring water… although it wasn’t quite as interesting as everyone made it sound.

Then there was Tom, still seated there, facing the rising sun, with his back to the cave. He sat completely still, as if waiting for something. Katrina didn’t know how long he would be like that, so she considered making her escape instead of disturbing him.

Except… slowly… he began to move. Just as the sun breached the horizon and half the sky was luminescent, Tom unfolded his right hand. Sweeping it out about one inch from the soil, he made an arch around him. His movements were soft enough to have been petting a bunny. Then he made some kind of downward ‘trickle’ gesture with the fingers of both hands. Starting on his left this time, they flowed clear over to his right, which happened to be the side where Katrina was crouched.

When he turned toward her, she could see that he was whispering something very quietly. Continuing his pantomime, Katrina got the impression that he must have been telling a story about something. Apparently it was a love story; he was so passionate when he began to reach, cradle, and slither his hands with each new sentence.

Slowly he unfolded his legs from beneath him and planted his feet upon the soil. With more fluidity than she probably could have displayed, Tom surged upward with his hands outstretched. For a moment he simply stood there, stretching toward the treetops. He even swayed a bit, as if in a breeze.

With more gestures she could not interpret, he embodied sincerity and reverence like she’d never known. Eventually he began reaching for the four horizons. He began with the East, longingly, as if reaching for a lover’s hand. As he turned gracefully toward the South, she shrunk behind the old tree, so she wouldn’t be caught watching. However, his eyes were closed and he never seemed to notice her there. Again he swiveled, toward the cave to the West this time, and then beckoned to the North. Although she could not hear his words, she watched him speak to each direction, with more emotion than she could comprehend.

Facing East again, he raised his hand up toward the sky. With elegant, sweeping motions, he then lightly brushed his forehead, gathered both hands at his heart, and again he reached upward. As he raised up, he opened his eyes. This confirmed there were tears moistening his cheeks.

Looking spent of energy and emotion, he collapsed to his knees and placed his forehead against the Earth. There he lay for a moment, still whispering. Finally he righted himself, giving just enough distance to bring his hand to his chest, and then caress the soil once again. His movement was as tender and gentle as if stroking a sleeping child.

Finally, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked right at Katrina.

“You can come out now, Katrina. You weren’t bothering me.”

“Oh!” Stunned and sheepish, she tried to emerge from her haven without looking like some kind of cat burglar. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“You did disturb the blue jay when you came to the edge of the woods. The grey squirrel batted its tail and chose a different tree after you slowed down. But here in the pond, the frogs were uninterested.”

“Wow.” Katrina had no idea what to say about that. Part of her assumed he may have been making up a frilly story. But that cynical theory didn’t feel like it held much water. “Really? How—”

“I listen to the voices of Nature the way some people listen to their mp3s,” he grinned. “My form of ‘entertainment’ has its roots all the way back to the beginning.”

“Oh.” Again, she was surprised with the depth of his reply, and she knew better than to discredit him this time.

“Welcome to the Eternal Spring,” he nodded. “You may take a moment to look around.”

As she approached the middle of the trail clearing, she again had that jittery feeling. Truth be told, she almost felt nervous, as if she was being scrutinized; by more than just the old man.

Obligingly, she centered her focus back on the enormous rock outcrop. Deeply tucked under the low ceiling, there was a manmade water catchment; like a wishing well. This drew her toward it, and her apprehension dissolved.

Deep within that crevasse, it was noticeably cooler and quieter than out on the trail. The wall of the basin was about three feet tall, made from more local sandstone, and the water within was completely clear. Leaning over the edge, she could see straight to the bottom, and all details of the rocks precisely.

Somewhere near the back, coming from a crack in the stone ceiling, there was a slow trickle, which stirred the surface of the water. Besides those concentric rings rippling out across the water, she would have seen a mirror image of herself.

Altogether, it was stunning. She removed herself from the cave, and came back to him.

“Beautiful.”

“Yes,” he affirmed, watching her closely.

“So… that’s pretty incredible… I’ve never seen anybody pray like that.”

“I am giving thanks.”

That was where she hit the wall of mediocrity. She’d assumed he was performing some sort of ancient ritual or ceremony, such was his adoration. Also, she wasn’t sure exactly what ‘giving thanks’ meant in this context. She knew about Thanksgiving, but that was when people prayed… and then ate. This didn’t seem to fit into that box, either.

“What’s the difference?” she wondered, dumbly.

Patiently, Tom shook his head. “I was giving thanks to the Creator. With passion. I was feeling my connection to all of nature. Giving thanks for <i>everything</i>. Because… without all this, I couldn’t exist.”

“Oh,” she whispered, looking around. “Yeah,” she frowned, trying to follow.

“Once you understand the Earth, you’ll know how to be truly thankful. To understand nature is to know all of life.”

“Oh, yeah?” Although her words came in a challenging tone, she was genuinely interested to hear his words on the subject. “That would be cool, if that sort of knowledge would help me understand the rest of life,” she commented, skeptically. Then she casually began to observe the clearing again.

Tom appeared as if he considered this for a moment, but he ultimately shook his head.

“Not knowledge. Knowledge is just words and facts; there’s no soul to it. Like the information that spring, summer, autumn, and winter, are just seasons. Seasons are just something that happen <i>out there</i>,” he stabbed the air viciously with both pointed fingers. “But *experience</i> gives you the wisdom that birth occurs in the spring…” Tom extended a loving hand toward the East. “Growth occurs in summer…” He swiveled on his axis to face South now. “In the autumn we prepare for what is to come,” he gestured West, toward the rock face. “Wisdom says: No matter how powerful, everything succumbs to the laws of nature.” With that, he turned northward. “Eventually winter will prevail, and there is beauty there, as well. Purity.”

Katrina stared at him, her mouth resembling the low, open cave behind her.

Very tenderly, he continued, “Knowledge tells you that you will likely fall in love someday. But <i>experience</i> gives you the wisdom of what love is.”

Katrina’s mouth snapped shut, and her eyebrows raised. That part she could understand.

“How can you be truly thankful for something when you’ve had only a superficial knowledge of it? Life… Love… Earth… even God… They are deserving of your <i>experience</i>.”

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded, trying to wrap her brain around it. “Experience,” she repeated.

Tom gazed at her, assessing her level of understanding. He sensed that she was absorbing enough that it would eventually take root. Therefore, he casually turned, and ventured toward that wishing well. Subsequently, he bent and retrieved two large glass jugs, each with an intricate jute carrier woven around them.

After removing this soft basket casing, he delicately submerged the mouth of each bottle under the surface of the cold water. Like a child, he watched the ripples on the surface of the pool. They corresponded with the shape of the bottle’s sides, racing to the edges. Upon reaching their limits they would bounce back, and interact with the new rings being thrown from his disturbance. Then he would play with the surface tension, creating a pattern of flowing peaks as it rapidly poured into the entrance of the container. When he was done, he raised a wet hand to his mouth, and moistened his lips.

After watching all this with fascination, Katrina suddenly realized it was her turn to speak again.

“Well, I’d love to… understand life, like you were saying,” she grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “And learn how to give thanks like that,” she added, trying not to sound self-centered. “That was beautiful.”

“There’s a dance too,” he said, casually. “It can be done during a ceremony, with drumming. It’s breathtaking.”

“Cool,” she grinned. “Could you teach me that?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow.”

For a moment, she imagined herself dancing around a fire, Native American style. When she thought about it, it was the drums that really captured her attention. She could actually hear the <i>boom-boom, boom-boom</i> cadence in her head, like that of a beating heart.

“So… is that water clean enough to drink?”

As he grabbed both jugs by their handles and started toward the lodge, he replied, “Yes. This is where I get all my drinking water. For everything else I just go to the river. It runs near to my home.”

“Oh. Where do you live?” she frowned.

“Just beyond the pond. You were near my home yesterday on your way to the garden.”

Katrina suddenly felt curiosity erupt within her as she tried to imagine his house. “Is that where you’re going now?”

“Soon. Right now we’re going to the lodge. Daniel is looking for you.”

“Oh. Really?” Glancing up, Katrina searched for the end of the trees, and the building beyond. They were well within the woods there, over a little hillock, and about 100 yards away from the house. There was no way he could have known what Daniel was doing just then. However, Katrina decided to keep that skepticism to herself.

When they arrived, though, the screen door flew open and Daniel’s broad smile greeted them.

“Morning, Grandfather. Katrina,” he grinned. “I was wondering where you’d gone. So… you must’ve found the spring. What’d you think?”

Chapter 31: Thanksgiving Perception

Straight away that morning they picked an entire cartload of apples from one single tree that grew next to the garden. As they picked, Daniel told her about how it had been planted by his grandmother, and how she’d died while he was still in the army. Soon before he returned, he learned that she’d willed the property to him; that’s how he came to inherit this beautiful land and livelihood.

After laying the fruit out on tables to ripen in the front porch, they spent the remainder of the day picking pounds of tomatoes, assorted peppers, huge onions and about five heads of garlic. These were also brought in baskets and carts all the way up to the kitchen, where they too were laid out; their integrity examined. If any tomatoes or peppers showed signs of abuse, he took them straight into the kitchen. If they’d been nibbled by a worm, touched by a fungus, or had other damage, they’d need to be handled immediately, before decay set in.

Working quickly, he chopped the usable portions of peppers and the beefy tomatoes. For the smaller ones, he simply cooked them and churned them in the food mill to make a quick sauce. All this went into the fridge until he was ready to make salsa, which probably wouldn’t be until the next day.

Katrina followed his directions and provided an extra set of hands as he executed his master plan. She’d never experienced the garden-to-table transition of food, and she was eager to learn. It also helped to calm her nerves and free her mind after all that’d happened recently. She still wasn’t entirely relaxed around Daniel… she still had anxiety about Trent and Melissa. Yet there was nothing she could do about any of it, so she let time smooth things over.

After all their hard work, Daniel offered her a pair of jeans and a T-shirt he said a woman left behind years ago. He said she could take the night off, and he did the laundry while she showered. By the time she was done he’d retreated to the back porch, where he spent the rest of the evening.

Bored and still a little uneasy in the big house, she crept into that little room adjacent to his office space. She examined all the pictures, pelts, rocks, feathers, flowers, and other specimens that had no place in his display room. Also, there was an overflowing bookshelf, full of references from the dusty and dry, to the beloved and well-worn. She selected a book about the Shawnee tribe, and retired to her bedroom, waiting for nightfall.

When she awoke the next morning, in the stillness before dawn, she held within her the lucid sensation of being <i>alive</i>. As she stretched she was aware of every muscle, and the blood rushing through her. Blinking, she acknowledged her eyelashes and the air moving in her lungs. She had no idea what prompted this new sensitivity, but she liked it.

When her feet hit the thin carpet, she could feel the old floorboards beneath. It was cold on her warm, sleepy feet. Hurriedly, she pulled on the used clothes he’d given her. On her descent down the creaky steps, she walked close to the wall, so as to minimize the noise. In a few short steps, she was outside in the mist. Drunkenly, she soaked in the sights and the fragrance of the cool morning. Then she was on her way.

The dew of the grass saturated her sandals. Little bits of mowed grass clung to her toes. She again paused at the edge of the trees, and slowed her gait. Nevertheless, that blue jay still scolded her. At least this time she was present enough to notice.

She strolled quietly over the bare path, right up to the last rise before the spring. As she’d hoped, he was sitting on the trail waiting for her.

“Good morning,” he murmured, opening his eyes and smiling up at her.

“Good morning,” she whispered. “May I join you?” she asked, politely.

“Of course.”

As Katrina lowered herself to the Earth next to the ancient man, she wondered if he was done with his morning ritual. She was cautious about speaking at first, but she also couldn’t stand the silence. “So… I’m going to be staying for the week to help Daniel. To help pay for my car, I mean,” she explained, furtively.

“Wonderful,” he nodded, complacently. “You’ll be able to give thanks at the Eternal Spring for a few more days. Good.”

Sitting upon the ground next to him, she tried to put her mind in the place of thanksgiving. She was grateful for Daniel’s generosity, to have a place to stay, and to have her car paid for. She appreciated the old man’s insights and the emotional help he’d given. But all of this kept swirling her thoughts around in a spiral of inquiry.

“Tom?” she began.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering if you could teach me that thanksgiving thing you did yesterday. You looked so peaceful and… happy.”

Tom agreed with her assessment. Glancing over, he declared, “Peace and joy can only be found within oneself; cultivated from a deep appreciation for life.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, excitedly. Now more than ever she needed that kind of tranquility and rapture.

“But I don’t think you’re ready, yet,” he shrugged, turning back to the eastern horizon and closing his eyes dismissively.

Immediately her hopeful smile turned into a confused frown. “Not ready?” she rebuked. “But yesterday you said you’d teach me.”

“I thought about it, but no…” Calmly, he opened his eyes and tried to reason with her compassionately. “You must first be willing to change your perception of life. I sense that you still place an emphasis on unimportant things, yet you have no concept of reality. How can you be thankful if you have no understanding of what’s happening here, in reality?”

“Reality?” she grimaced, feeling thoroughly offended. “Listen…” she began.

“You might even have to change how you perceive yourself… who you choose to be.”

After another blank scowl, she countered, “You can’t <i>choose</i> who you are.”

“Not with that attitude,” he stated, looking at her sideways.

Katrina guffawed, shook her head, and then breathed deeply. “Fine. How do I ‘change my perception?’” she challenged.

Tom seemed to consider this at length, weighing his response. Ultimately, he rose from his seated position and wandered amiably toward the southeast edge of the clearing. “I can’t tell you <i>how</i>; that’s a shift that must come from within.”

Blinking hard, she was able to hide a roll of her eyes. Begrudgingly though, she did follow him to the little pond there.

“But I can give you an example of why you’d want to.”

“Okay…” she bristled.

Deliberately, he lowered himself and he eyed the flora and rocks surrounding the water’s edge. Katrina joined him, stiffly and exasperated.

“You are sitting here, in the flesh, in the now. You have an idea of reality. Right?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, reeling from his suggestion that she may not know what was real.

“Were you aware that yesterday, at about this time, a bobcat drank from this pond?”

Her mind recoiled, wanting to doubt him; to snort her contempt and derision. But as he pointed, her eyes focused on the little depressions in the soil. The Earth near the lip of the pond was moist and soft. Clearly she could see a few small crescents; outlines of digits in the soil. Having glimpsed a million cat prints at her grandparents’ farm, she knew these were the biggest she’d ever seen.

Still disbelieving, she began, “Those could be…”

“If they were made by a member of the dog family, they’d have claw marks. These have none,” he pointed out. “Cats have retractable claws.” Then he held his eyes upon hers, leaving no doubt that the old tracker knew exactly what he was seeing.

Finally, she had to submit to his wisdom. “Bobcat…” she frowned, feeling the hair stand up on her back. “They have kind of a black marking and fluffy fur around their eyes, right?” she remembered, from a dream she’d had recently.

“And a bobtail,” he nodded. “Very good. Where do you think she might be right now?” he wondered, tantalizingly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, feeling her senses come alive in tingling excitement.

“Do I sense fear?”

Despite herself, her lips curled into an unwilling smirk. “Maybe,” she shook her head.

Tom shuffled to his feet once again, to hide his bemused grin. “Tell me,” he began, making his way back to the Eternal Spring under the rock ceiling. “What else are you afraid of?”

Sighing heavily as she followed, she absently pulled her hair band out, and repositioned her ponytail. “Uh… I used to be afraid of snakes, until Daniel…”

“… changed your perception of them?”

Snapping the rubber band, she gave him an unenthused look.

“What else?” he encouraged, as he bent to retrieve one of his glass jugs next to the well.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, looking around blankly. “Death?” She didn’t think that was the kind of thing he was wanting from her, but she said it anyhow.

With the container perched on the rock wall, Tom had been staring lovingly into the clear pool. Her answer did catch his attention, and he wanted to know more.

“Why should such a young lady be afraid of dying?”

Rolling her eyes flippantly, she countered, “Well, I mean, isn’t everybody?”

Tom shook his head, peering at her directly. “Tell me about yourself, Katrina.” Then he invited her over to the sandstone ledge with a pat of his hand.

Reluctantly she moved forward, rehearsing a few lines in her head. Eventually though, she knew she wouldn’t be able to conceal anything from him, so she came out with it.

“My dad died when I was 13. It was a long battle with cancer. It stripped him of his dignity… even his <i>identity</i>, in my mind. He wasn’t the same person when he finally died. And he was so young. Like fifteen years older than I am now…”

“And were you the same person after he died?”

Feeling a lump sting her throat, she simply shook her head and looked away.

“Tell me… what was Katrina Hayes like when she was younger?”

Images flashed before her eyes in quick succession. She could feel the sun on her skin; the grass between her toes; the smell of her grandparents’ mare. With a sniff, she shrugged and swallowed.

“Like a regular kid, I guess.”

Tom allowed her to compose herself before he proceeded. “Well, you do have a good grasp of the value of life. At least you have that going for you. But the young Katrina sounds much different than the one who thought the world was ending just because she lost her belongings.” Then, with the same gratitude and patience as he ate his meals, he slowly submerged the mouth of the glass jug into the cold water.

Katrina threw him a look that warned of her decreasing tolerance.

“Well, I guess I’ve changed.”

Without pausing in his endeavor, he idly stated, “I thought you said you can’t change who you are.”

Pursing her lips, she raised a brow. “Fine. I grew up, then.”

As if he didn’t want to interrupt his silent conversation with the water, Tom finished with the second container before he spoke again.

“You are no longer a child, yet you’re still living a false life, on perceived notions. You haven’t matured enough to be who you truly are.” After slipping the cordage straps around the two half-gallons, he stood before her. His eyes casually brushed past her features and her blond hair. “You feel you have to look a certain way, to chase some illusion of beauty. Or that you must have a certain career, in order to achieve some idea of success. Or marry a certain person in order to be happy.”

Her mouth was still pressed flat, but her eyes wandered as she contemplated his words.

“You may be taller now, but you still busy your mind with irrelevant questions, like who set fire to what…”

“Wait –” she started.

“When really that’s not the right question at all.”

Incredulously, she asked, “What’s the right question?”

“Who would want to destroy your life? What would they have to gain? And why does it matter, anyhow?” He filed through these thoughts trivially, as he began to saunter down the trail and towards the house.

“Uh, it matters a lot, to me!” she disputed, trailing him closely.

“Oh,” he responded, pausing a moment to think on this. “I see. So… knowing the truth about one thing would change your perception… about everything? Interesting,” he grinned.

Katrina slowed her pace, holding back just enough to glower at the back of his head.

As if he never noticed her reaction, Tom continued casually. “Did you know there’s a flying squirrel nested up in there?” With his arms full, he simply glanced upward.

“A… <i>flying</i> squirrel?” she scrunched up her face as she eyed a cluster of leaves in a forked limb above his head.

“Yes. I got here before dawn, and I saw him scurry up in there to bed. They’re nocturnal, you know.”

Dubiously, she continued to shake her head, her mouth slacking in disbelief.

“Or… maybe you didn’t know… about flying squirrels. Well, the world truly is changing for you these days, isn’t it? Now <i>that’s</i> something to be thankful for,” he winked. Then he continued his stroll back toward the lodge. “Ridiculously cute little critters, with their big, black eyes and their floppy parachute skin! Could just about make Ebenezer Scrooge giggle like a little girl.”

As they exited the woods she followed a few steps behind, continuing to scrutinize him.

Finally, she spoke her mind. “How did you know about the fire? Did Daniel tell you about that?”

Indifferently, he slowed his pace and retorted, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

Sneering at him skeptically, she shook her head, not knowing what to think.

“Like I said… there are some things you just aren’t ready for. But don’t worry about it right now; I’ll be here when you are.”

Chapter 34: Survival Attitude

Katrina was nervously rinsing the evidence down the sink when Daniel and Jade entered the kitchen. She’d followed all of his instructions using the strainer, the milk jug and the quart jar… but hadn’t realized the need for a funnel until it was too late. She’d spilled about a cup of milk while trying to manually aim for the narrow mouth of the jug. After she’d wiped the bottoms of the containers and applied the lids, she finally noticed the funnel there on the counter, obvious to anyone who’d bothered to look.

“I just think that some flowers next to the walkway would look inviting,” Jade was suggesting, as he trailed behind. “You’re the one who’s always trying to involve women in this outdoorsy thing. It’d be nice to look at something pretty there.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, glancing at Katrina on his way by. “But those plants are there for a reason,” he continued, heading to the fridge for a dozen eggs.

“You mean the weeds? I know they’re… ‘useful’ to you, but can’t you let them grow someplace else? I’d be happy to help you landscape in the springtime,” she offered, sweetly.

“Maybe,” he acquiesced. “Hey, have you guys met?”

“Uh, not officially,” Jade smiled, offering her hand. “I’m Jade.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Katrina.”

“Oh, Katrina,” she nodded, idly. “Haven’t heard that name in a while. Cute. So how do you like it here?”

The reference to her name only took seconds to slip by, but Trina didn’t have an appropriate reply to her question, either.

“Oh, it’s… Nice,” she smiled and bobbed her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s really nice of him to let me stay,” she affirmed, gesturing to Daniel.

“Yeah. That is nice,” she agreed, with a sneer in Daniel’s direction. “Well, it was… great meeting you,” she chuckled, avoiding another use of the word ‘nice.’ “Daniel, just let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay. Here you go,” he said, extending the carton of eggs toward her. They shared a deliberate, cheerful view of each other, and then she nodded at Katrina.

“Later.”

“See ya,” she replied, coolly. “So…” Katrina began, as she carried the milk to the refrigerator. “What now?”

Before they continued with their salsa making, Daniel informed her that he intended to perform some maintenance on the horses’ hooves, and she was welcome to assist. Mostly all she did was watch as he held the animal’s foot between his knees and performed the cleaning, clipping, and filing of the hooves. Like a surgeon’s assistant, it was helpful that she was there to hand him the necessary tools. After he’d finished all eight legs, they each took a brush to sweep across their coats, and another toothy metal tool to untangle their tails.

“Ugh, these burrs are terrible!” she grumbled, having worked on one particular mass of hair-and-Velcro for over five minutes.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You should kill those plants. At least in the pasture.”

“I could do that,” he shook his head. “But burdock is great. Edible… medicinal… Sometimes the goat eats the young leaves. I suspect she needs the nutrients for something. They deserve to live here, just like we do. So I tolerate them, I just take the time to maintain the horses. Like we’re doing right now.”

“I guess I just needed to change my perception of them,” she sulked, still bitter over that morning’s class with Tom.

Wordlessly, Daniel raised a brow to peer over at her. He’d heard that word plenty of times, and knew precisely what lesson she’d begun that day. With a smirk he simply went back to work on Prince’s mane and said nothing.

After lunch they finally got to finish the salsa they’d started the day before. For the rest of the afternoon they blanched all those tomatoes by dipping them in boiling water for three minutes, then shocking them with ice water. This split the skins, making them easier to remove, but didn’t fully cook the fruit. The green peppers were chopped without much trouble, but she wore gloves to de-seed the hot ones. Also, while he was roughly chopping and peeling the tomatoes, she wore a pair of goggles to tolerate slicing all ten fresh onions.

Tomato chunks were allowed to drain in wire strainers, while the seeds and skins were sent through the food mill. The resulting sauce was mixed with vinegar, salt, and seasoning to provide a base for the vegetables. While all that was brought to a simmer and the water bath was just starting to boil, they scurried about locating jars, lids and rings, and sterilizing them. The finished condiment was then ladled into old glass canning jars, with tops secured. Finally they were submerged in the rolling, boiling water of a large enamel canner.

Katrina felt she barely had a moment to breathe before he suggested dinner.

“Something Tex-Mex,” he shrugged, gesturing to the two cups of salsa that hadn’t fit into the quart jars.

Her feet were so sore they were throbbing as she slumped on the stool in the kitchen. She had to admit it sounded good though, and she wanted to taste what they’d created. Sighing, she eased herself off the chair and located a small Zip-Loc bag of frozen ground meat… which she assumed was venison. At this point she didn’t even care.

As she started the defrost cycle, he began mixing up little dough balls for homemade flour tortillas. Then he gently cooked them on a griddle during the time it took her to make the burrito filling and shred the cheese. She was either too astonished, or too tired, to comment on that unexpected slow-food process, but the meal was delectable.

By the time they’d washed the dishes and he was putting them away, she was back on her stool, staring blankly at the floor. The day seemed like a blur and she was exhausted to her core, but her belly was full and there was eight quarts of salsa on the counter that weren’t there that morning.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing her glazed expression.

“Yeah,” she croaked, coming back to life. “Just tired.”

Daniel nodded, understandingly. “You going back to the spring then?”

“What?” she frowned.

“Tom does the thanksgiving thing twice a day; sunrise and sunset. It’s about that time.”

“Oh. No, I don’t think I will,” she grumbled.

“Something wrong?” Daniel turned back around to place a glass on a shelf before she could see his grin.

“No…” Katrina shrugged, not knowing how to explain her feelings. “He just… We don’t really have much to talk about, I guess,” she finally rationalized.

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” he peered at her, knowingly.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, feeling defensive and guarded. “He said I wasn’t ready, so…”

“That probably has more to do with him, than you,” Daniel smirked. “In my experience, he has plenty to talk about, if you just show a little interest.”

“I showed interest,” she was quick to point out. “He didn’t want to teach me.”

“Well, he’s not a fortune cookie. He doesn’t just give things away. You have to want it.”

Spontaneously a thought occurred to her, and she blurted it out without thinking. “Did you tell him I was worried about the cause of the fire?”

“No,” he frowned, blankly. “Why?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

Daniel took a deep breath, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, you don’t have to go, but I know he’s made you curious. Anyhow, you’re off the clock. I’m going to take a shower.”

The dismissive way he closed the cupboard and exited the room left her feeling unsatisfied and agitated. She really didn’t want to spend another boring evening in her room, but she didn’t want to go where she was unwelcome, either. Finally she began to imagine herself going to the spring, and demonstrating her own thanksgiving address that would render his unnecessary.

And maybe that’s what he wanted. After all, how can one <i>not</i> be ready to learn gratitude? The more she thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Maybe that was just his way of teaching a young whipper-snapper some diligence and respect. Well, she wasn’t in the mood for an old man’s trickery, but she also needed to exercise her feet before they went numb. So she pointed herself northward, and started walking.

As Daniel had predicted, he sat in the same spot, this time facing west. His eyes were closed, his thin lips were drawn to the corners of his cheeks. He was the picture of contentment.

“Hello,” he greeted her, without moving an extra muscle.

“Hi,” she replied, sitting down next to him.

Katrina took a deep breath and decided to follow through with her plan of rehearsing an improvised, yet heartfelt, thanksgiving address. Maybe then he would recognize that she wasn’t just giving him lip service; she really wanted to be a part of his ancient wisdom.

As her eyes approached the top of the hill to the west however, the air caught in her throat. The broad, musty cave was sprinkled overhead with generations of trees and mature plants. This was topped with a full spectrum of colors, from golden clouds to deep violet atmosphere. A handful of crows crossed the sky, their calls accenting the birdsong which rang out in stereo, all around her. In that moment, a breeze stirred the living leaves and the fallen ones… and it also moved within her.

Before meeting this man and accepting his challenge of thankfulness, she wouldn’t have purposefully encountered an evening like this. She never would have seen this sunset, nor acknowledged its uniqueness from every other sunset ever viewed.

“Some things cannot be conveyed in words,” he spoke. “In order for an expression to be felt by the Great Spirit, you must learn to use your heart instead of lyrics and thoughts. True appreciation isn’t announced in spoken terms, it’s whispered in the language of love.”

As Katrina realized her mouth was slack, she turned from him and gazed back at the image of where the Earth joined sky. His statement fit into a place within her, like a round peg in a round hole. Her brain probably couldn’t have invented that kind of testimony, yet her soul knew it was correct. It just felt right.

After swallowing and taking another sweet, deep breath, she nodded. All thoughts of skepticism and argument died away. Instead, they were replaced by a craving to experience life in the kind of exquisite richness that he obviously felt.

“Why do you always give thanks here?” she murmured.

Patiently, Tom opened his eyes, looked upwards, and smiled. “The Eternal Spring is a sacred place. My ancestors did beautiful things here. And they still like it here. This is a good place to reach them.”

As she pondered this statement, her mind rushed to define and interpret his words. They took an abstract concept of Native Americans, and put it in a real context. They were real people. They were actually right here, once. They had real lives, and did real things. They are his lineage, and they still mattered to him. Maybe they even mattered to her, too.

Her logical brain required that she conjure an image of these people, and it readily produced a clear picture for her. It was of a warrior, with a Mohawk and red paint on his skin. She felt an immediate connection and reverence toward this man in her mind. He didn’t feel like something she’d imagined; he felt like an actual person.

Quietly she cleared her throat and blinked hard to bring herself back to reality.

“Why do you call it the Eternal Spring?”

“As far as I can see, there will always be pure water here. That is very special,” he nodded.

Again, Katrina knew he was telling her something profound, yet she did not feel the magnitude. Ashamed, she had to ask, “Why is that important?”

With a shrug, he said, “It is the blood of the Earth. When we drink, it becomes our blood. It is the substance we need most for life.”

As predicted, she did feel dumb for asking. But as he continued, his answer went from obvious to acute.

“All throughout history, humans have based their lives around a clean source of water. Now we feel all-powerful, like gods, when we force the water from its home in the ground. We can control it, making it run and dance for us. In fountains. Or while we brush our teeth, and gaze at ourselves in the mirror. But I believe this time of taking without asking will come to an end. Someday we will again realize that water is more valuable than gold.”

Bewildered, she considered this.

“I probably won’t be around when that happens,” he continued. “But I love and respect all the water of Earth. And I will teach those who <i>will</i> be around when it happens.”

“Whoa,” she finally uttered. “That’s… pretty scary…”

Casually, he replied, “Not if you’re the one who loves and respects the waters.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, nervously. “I guess not.” In an effort to change the subject, she asked, “Is that the kind of thing you were taught on the reservation?”

With a hearty laugh, he shook his head. “No. Those in power tried to assimilate me. They wanted to make me more like them, and less like me.”

After those few words, Tom fell silent. He pursed his lips and closed his eyelids, breathing deeply. Katrina raised a brow, with the feeling that he was allowing thoughts and emotions to flow through him. Something that had long ago been forgiven now needed no expression of words. Yet the history remained. Finally, he peered over at her again.

“Like you, I needed to unlearn what I had learned. It did not come easily, but what I gained was priceless.”

“What’s that?”

“Freedom. The kind that can only be achieved when one learns the art of living with the Earth. Nothing, and no one, can take that away.”

With her eyes wide, Katrina’s breath held in her chest. She felt a warm shiver of energy which began in her lower back, and flowed up her spine to all her extremities.

“If you exist in a flesh body here on planet Earth, you ought to know how to live as God intended, giving you only a brain, your inner wisdom, and your hands. That should be enough. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she nodded, eagerly. “When I was a little girl, I used to imagine I lived alone in a cave… which was actually an old shed. But I would pick field corn and make a little stash, like I was preparing for the winter. And I would make a little nest in a pile of leaves…”

Tom’s eyes brightened enthusiastically. “Even as a young girl, you already knew the importance of shelter. Beautiful. Children are born with instincts that slowly get hidden by logic and overthinking. It really is a shame.”

“Could you teach me more? I’d love to learn how to make fire, like Daniel did the other day, with just…”

Silently, Tom began to wag his head, and looked away.

That crushing feeling of inadequacy immediately displaced her excitement. “What?” she challenged. “I’m not ready?”

All he did was meet eyes with her.

“You’re kidding, right?” she huffed. “What, do you think I need to have five years of free time to learn how to make a simple fire?”

“It’s not just time you lack. It’s much deeper than that.”

“Then what? What is it?”

“Your <i>perception</i> of survival.”

“Oh, come on!” she hissed, exasperated.

Not to be misunderstood, he continued. “What would you learn from me… how to live, or how to not die?”

Katrina squinted and shook her head. “What’s the difference?”

“The key lies in the hearts and minds of the animals, like the bobcat. Tell me… when it’s dark, cold and rainy, do you think she cries herself to sleep and waits for death to take her?”

“No,” she scoffed. “They’re used to it. They’re out here all the time.”

“So that’s something else we can learn from nature. Their willingness to exist in a way the Creator designed.”

“But they don’t have a choice. They’ve never known anything different.”

“Ah!” Instantly his eyes lit up and he raised a finger. “They don’t have a choice! And you’re suggesting that we <i>do</i> have a choice.”

“Well, yeah…” she frowned.

Tom peered into her eyes, and he may have even been gazing into her soul, watching how this statement trickled down through the layers of understanding.

“We do have a choice,” he reiterated. “We can <i>choose</i> our attitude about our situation.”

That wasn’t where she thought this conversation was headed, but she stayed quiet and let him explain.

“We can choose to have a passion for life. <i>That</i> is the most important survival tool; the desire to keep living.”

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to keep pace with his words.

“Remember… when things are bad, it’s easy to give up. It’s much harder to go on fighting until you realize… in that crucial moment… you don’t know what you’re fighting for, or what you’re fighting against. Is it the Earth, or is it yourself?”

Katrina pursed her mouth and chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. Finally, after feeling as if there was smoke coming out her ears, she could no longer withstand the temptation to laugh. Sheepishly, she hid her face in her hands and giggled, giving up the attempt to comprehend.

At first she felt guilty, as if making fun of him, but soon he joined in her mirth. The lines around his eyes tightened as he revealed a toothy, joyous smile. The merriment surged from her belly when she heard his delightful laughter.

“Yeah… I don’t get it,” she admitted, as she slowed down to breathe. “I guess I’m really not ready.”

Tom wiped his eye and nodded. “You’ll understand when it’s time. Until then, all you need to know about survival is <i>attitude</i>. It’s the difference between a broken Indian, and the spirit of a warrior.”

Katrina sniffed, and listened closely.

“Only one has something to live for, and is willing to die for it.”

Chapter 36: Spirit of Motivation

That evening, after their day of processing and preserving, she again found Tom smiling at the horizon, with his eyes closed. She observed the deep fissures in the skin of his face, his hawk-like nose, and his long, white hair. She noticed the medicine pouch and another sheath that hung around his neck, which appeared to hold a small knife. During the silence and the intense scrutiny, he didn’t seem to mind or even notice she was there.

“How were the apples?” he finally whispered.

After her initial surprise, she responded, “Oh, they were good! Let’s see… we made apple butter… we froze some apple pie filling, and made apple sauce. And then we picked some grapes to juice tomorrow,” she beamed. “It was fun. Exhausting… but fun.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Were you thankful this morning?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I slept in,” she said, sheepishly. “But I came out here. I gave it a try.”

“And what questions do you have now?”

“Well… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I guess I’m just wondering about you.”

“Oh?” he raised a brow. Then he peeked at her through one eyelid.

“Yeah, I’ve told you about myself, but what about you? How did you learn all this stuff?”

With a passive nod, he stated, “I began my journey learning by following my grandfather. He never lived on the reservation, but he would actually sneak in sometimes to visit us.”

“Nice,” she grinned. “So he taught you how to track and read nature and all that. He was like… the real thing, huh?”

“The real thing?” he smirked.

“Yeah, you know,” she shrugged, not sure if he knew the clichés and stereotypes she was thinking about. “Well, people would have you believe certain things…”

“What kinds of things?”

“Things that I probably need to unlearn,” she rolled her eyes. “Stuff in movies… Some of it was actually pretty cool, though…” she continued to try and explain without sounding prejudice. “Or – like in church. They’d have me believe that the native people were… just pagans. And they worshiped the Earth, and they were wrong about God… but I always felt like… maybe they were actually onto something.” Sheepishly, Katrina scrunched up her nose. “Does that make sense?”

Tom pursed his lips as he pondered this statement, and chose his words.

She couldn’t stand the suspense, and rushed to fill the conversational void. “I don’t mean to sound… You know, I’m just trying to…”

“You want to learn,” he nodded. “That’s good.”

Finally she breathed, and smiled. “Yeah.”

Taking a deep breath, he finally found his direction and opened his mouth. “Regardless of their mythology or religion, indigenous people live close to the Earth. They find a way to be human – as flawed as we are – and still generally allow the rest of nature to live and flourish, as God intended. That kind of coexistence, that surrender of control, makes for a better relationship with all of Creation. Then it’s easier to learn the flow of Nature, and where we fit into the grand design.”

As usual, she got much more than she’d expected from that monologue. “So where do we fit in?” she wondered.

“We are the hands of the Creator. Caretakers; the manifestation of love and healing. That’s why it’s so important to live your Vision. You must surrender to the will of the Creator, so you can live <i>with</i> the rest of Creation, and not fight against it.”

Again she was reminded that she hadn’t yet found an adequate purpose with her life, so she continued to probe about his. “So what’s your Vision?”

“I’m living it now,” he grinned. “But first I had to continue the quest of my grandfather. He died when I was ten years old.”

“Aw,” she fussed, drooping her shoulders. “Well what was his Vision, then?”

“To learn,” he told. “One hundred years after Tecumseh, my grandfather was still inspired by his mission to bring together separate tribes for a single cause.”

“Yeah! I read about that the other night… he was a Shawnee, right?”

Tom affirmed, with a gentle smile. “So am I. But we are of the Wolf clan.”

“Oh…” This was new information to her, as she realized she’d never even asked about his specific heritage.

“Tecumseh did well in uniting some tribes in the region, but he was not able to complete his Vision before he fell. The white man was already pouring into the continent when my grandfather was born. But he was still driven to bring together the collective wisdom of the First Nations peoples for a single cause… Freedom.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her eyes wide like a preschooler listening to a fairytale.

“In Oklahoma there are many different tribes, and he would find elders who were willing to share their wisdom with him. But he journeyed much farther in his quest for knowledge. He traveled north, east, south, and west; always following his inner wisdom, and the direction of the Creator. During his quest, his understanding deepened. Though we humans all come from different cultures and religions, we are all one people.”

Katrina leaned toward him, hanging on his words. As fast as he was speaking, her brain rushed to compute, interpret, and compare his teachings to what she’d been taught.

“We all need certain physical requirements to survive. Our energy comes from the same cosmos. Our bodies come from the same Earth and water. We breathe the same air. We all seek one single truth. And no matter what race or creed, there is only one Source. That Creator loves all of Creation. It has no concern over which religion we were taught, or how we understand that which cannot be fully understood.”

“Whoa.”

“That’s why it is called the Great Mystery. It’s not our job to try and figure it out; just listen and obey.”

After Katrina absorbed that precious nugget, she took a deep breath and surrendered to the next itching inquiry. “So… I know this is probably a stupid question… but what religion are you, then?”

With a patient smile, Tom closed his eyes. “I am soul, flesh, and spirit. I am everything, and sometimes I am nothing.”

Katrina shook her head and furrowed her brow. “Is that some kind of riddle?”

“It will stop being a riddle when you understand. The true seeker of wisdom… the true shaman… must transcend their own religion and dogma… prejudices, and false perceptions… in order to find truth.”

Pursing her lips, she accepted that for now. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff. You learned all of that before you were ten?”

“No,” he tilted his head in confusion. “Why do you think that?”

“Because you said you learned it from your grandfather…”

“Ah, yes, he died when I was ten. When I was eleven though, I almost died. The rheumatic fever did take the life of my sister. As I struggled to survive, I became… more than I am. I met with my grandfather once again, and I was able to comprehend many concepts that I couldn’t have otherwise known. But most importantly, I came back with the passion to keep learning after I recovered.”

After a few blinks, Katrina had interpreted enough of those phrases to clarify what he’d actually said.

“So here I am,” he continued, with a certain inner glow. “Continuing his Vision.”

“Wow. That’s beautiful. Yeah… it seems so simple. Freedom and enlightenment. It does seem like something God would want us to know. It’s so easy if we just stop complicating…”

“I didn’t say it was easy,” he peered at her sideways.

“Oh,” she withdrew. “But still… This is the kind of thing we need to hear. You should be shouting this stuff from the rooftops, man.”

“His Vision was to learn. Mine is to teach. It will be another’s Vision to spread the wisdom, like the light from the rising sun.”

With that, Grandfather’s mouth stretched into a thin smile and his eyes stared straight into her. This left her with an uneasy feeling, so she rushed to speak, to relieve the tension.

“Actually I’m surprised you’re telling me all this. Aren’t you afraid I’m not ready yet?”

“You’re not,” he shrugged. “I’m only telling you that which you already know, deep down inside. That’s why it seems so simple. The real wisdom will come from the world of nature and spirit… and from within you. But you must be willing to do the work.”

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes.

Tolerantly, he explained. “You can only walk on the Earth in front of you. Like stepping on stones, crossing a stream. You can’t jump straight to the other side; you’ll simply get swept away. You must get to know each step before you can move on. And you can’t just <i>imagine</i> what each step will teach you… you have to actually take the step. Be there. Experience it. Then you will understand.”

“Okay,” she grumbled. “But how am I supposed to learn from nature and…”

“I think you already know that, as well,” he leered. “The spirit communicates through visions, signs, symbols, feelings… and dreams.”

Immediately her cynicism fell away and she met his eyes again.

“And it will convey concepts straight into your heart, better than any teacher or mentor can.”

“So…” Katrina wanted to be positive she understood what he was saying, without revealing some of her most childish fantasies. “… You’re saying I can learn from my dreams?”

“Not every dream is meaningful,” he pointed out. “But if the spirit cannot reach you by other methods while you’re awake – if you’re not paying attention to the other visions, signs, symbols and feelings – then he might try to reach you through a dream.”

“Hmm.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she took a deep breath and tried to stifle the chills that just went down her back. “You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to this stuff…”

“That’s the beauty of it. It will only come when you’re ready. Enlightenment grows and builds, like sand pouring into an hourglass. But you must start at the beginning, and you must make the climb yourself. This isn’t something that can be done in a couple of days.”

She palpated this new information in her mind and heart, like a tub of Play-Doh. Finally, when she was able to form it into feasible characteristics, she carried on.

“Just out of curiosity… how long would it take…?”

“How long does what take?”

“Well… to learn about spirit… things.”

She was relieved to see a smirk creep across his face before he turned back toward the horizon, which was now grey-to-deep-blue. Tom sighed before choosing his words.

“That’s not the right question.”

“Yeah, I know,” she murmured.

“What’s most important is your motivation.”

Katrina had no response to this; she simply stared at him and waited.

“When you become aware of the spirit reality, it becomes more aware of you. When you truly recognize that ‘with God all things are possible,’ you must be ready to shoulder that responsibility <i>wisely</i>. You must already know yourself, know your weakness, your tendencies, and be ready for the demons that will come with this gift of knowledge.”

“Demons?” she reacted.

Tom revealed the palm of his hand, and calmly moved it through the space between them. After he’d soothed her mind somewhat, he continued. “What is your agenda, Katrina? What’s your motivation for wanting to know the way of the spirit? If it is self-serving, then you’re a danger to yourself, and to others. So… what is your motivation?”

“Oh…” Feeling guilty, and a little nervous, she bit her lip and told the truth. “So I can be with my dad again,” she whispered.

Slowly he nodded, as if he’d just been checking. Then, in his gentlest voice, he told her, “Your father is still here in spirit. Love will always bond you to him. But he exists in a realm where there are no lies; no secrets. Only truth in concepts. That wisdom will be given to you when you’re ready.”

“But I’m leaving! When will I–?”

“Soon,” he interrupted, raising his hand again. “But the journey is yours, not mine. It’s there to be discovered, you only have to open yourself to it.”