It's been a very long time since I last posted a blog, and this one is way overdue. So with my apologies for the delay, I will start........

I belong to MySpace, and followed a link to his MySpace page. He had left a comment about a video, and I let him know that he might find my MySpace page of interest. I shortly received a 'friend request' from him, and welcomed him to my page. We were soon instant messaging, but the time differences between us were sometimes a burden.

He told me that he had read some of my earliest blogs on MySpace, and I mentioned to him that I posted more often on this site. He has an avid interest in the Native American cultures, and told me that he thoroughly enjoyed reading the blogs because they gave him a better insight into the lives of the Native people.

We have talked of his life, and of mine. We have discussed the disappointments each of us has faced, and I assure him that life will get better. He is a very sensitive person, and I am very comfortable talking with him about everything and anything. He calls me monthly, and we can easily spend an hour talking and laughing. I enjoy these conversations immensely, and think that he does also.

About a year into our friendship, he told me that he was planning a trip to my part of the world. We had great fun making these plans, and then a problem arose that was beyond my fixing. We had planned to tour the Navajo reservation, but my recent hospitalization put a real damper on that. I was to be confined to my home, and there was absolutely no way that I could physically make the trip. Plans were changed, and he and his lady would still make the trip, and do the touring on their own. I suggested several stopping places and 'must sees', and the routes that would take them to all these places. I did get to visit with them on their arrival in Arizona, and then again just before they left for home. What neither of them realizes is that while I was not with them physically, my heart was with them and I got to see all of those wonderful things through their eyes.

I know that I have really 'edited' this blog, but I am getting tired and want to get this posted. And so, young brother, this is for you. Thank you for your friendship and the laughter.

By the way, Three Crows Walking, while I am teaching you, you have to understand that you already have it in you. I'm just reminding you of things that you already know. My love to you, and to Val.

A Special Gift

Our paths are different yet parallel, and so are our lives. She is younger than me, perhaps as much as 15 years. She is tall and slender, as is her twin flame. She first came into the shop several years ago, as part of a three-some. Now they are a two-some, happy in each other.

Her path is very spiritual, as is mine. Sometimes she walks with me on mine; other times I walk on hers. In either event, we walk together as one. She will very often feel my physical pain. She knows when I am in any sort of danger, and can usually warn me in time. We are each other's 'sounding board' for any dilemma that confronts us. We protect each other with 'gifts'. Our gifts to each other are different from what you would expect. Feathers, animal bones, stones, animal teeth, herbs. Things that protect each of us from whatever we are facing at the time.

We have known each other many times, in many ways, in many lifetimes. We are comfortable being in each other's company - whether in person, on the phone, or in dreams and the spiritual realm in which we live.

Our personal lives are so much the same that it is sometimes scary. We have both been through abusive relationships, family difficulties, and the loss of loved ones. She can hear my Bear. I know this because she has told me many things that only he and I would know. We have few common friends, and none of them knew Bear.

Does it bother either of us that we have such a close bond? Absolutely not. We both know that we were supposed to find each other in this lifetime, and that we will be protecting and helping each other when we pass into the next.

Little Brother

For the life of me, I cannot remember how long it has been since I met him. I know it's more than seven years, maybe ten. He came into the shop looking for a gift for his wife, and that's how long it has been. We became friends right from the start, and although during that time we were a continent apart, we never lost any part of that friendship. My life is good that way -- when I make a true friend, neither time nor distance diminishes the friendship.

He is my other 'shoulder to cry on'. He was there through most of my marriage; he was there when my son-in-law left my daughter and my grandchild just before Christmas a few years ago. He has laughed with me, and he has cried with me. I, in turn, am there for him when his spirits are low and he needs to be reminded of how life is in the world in which he and I live.

He worries about my health -- probably more than I do. He does his best to keep me on the straight and very narrow path to a better and healthier lifestyle. He has seen first-hand what happens to people with my maladies, and he doesn't want me to suffer through the rest of my life. And for that I have bestowed the name 'Little Brother' upon him. Actually, every time I think of him a voice in my head says 'Little Brother', so in actuality I am not giving him the name -- it's coming from Bear. But he will recognize himself here.

He is not yet a healer, but is well on his way to becoming one of the best. I'm sure that he doesn't realize this yet and this paragraph will be quite a revelation to him. He will now understand his affinity to the Native people, and his strong desire to help all those who need him, including me.

I am honored to call him 'friend' and, now, Little Brother.

Kay

Her face is shattered, as is her spirit. She is the victim of many years of domestic abuse. She comes to me for help, since she knows that I have gone through the same. But it is her soul that I worry about. She talks of giving up, of doing the unthinkable. She feels that she is so worthless that even her sons want nothing to do with her.

I've known her for about six years, and have seen the damages that, all too often, have been done to her. A black eye here and there, two broken arms. The police don't like to 'meddle' in domestic cases, and the shelters are full. She has few friends, and they don't like to get involved. A phone call to a friend helps. I tell her that I am calling in favors. The friend finds that a space has just opened at one of the shelters, and I send Kay to her.

She comes in again about six months later. She is much better, she tells me. The time she has spent at the shelter has given her a new lease on life. She has found an apartment, gotten a job, and is learning how to do for herself.

The next time I see her is about four months later. She again has a blackened eye, and her wrist is in a cast. When I ask what happened, she tells me that she returned to her husband. She spent the previous night in the emergency room, having her wrist x-rayed, and resting from his onslaught. When I call the shelter, they tell me that she left of her own accord. A month later I learn that she is dead -- at her husband's hands.

She was not young, nor was she old. Forty-five at most. She had been a vibrant woman when I first met her, and I had seen that woman become broken and despondent. Sadly, I knew exactly what she went through, and her thoughts could have been mine -- at another time. Gratefully, I knew when to get out, and I learned how to deal with what life threw in my path. Perhaps she could have learned; I will never know.

Ron

In this time, we have known each other about 7 years, and have seen each other twice. Our bills for telephone calls between us could repay the national debt, and we spend hours and hours chatting on instant messenger. He has been my strength during my darkest hours, and I have protected him during the myriad times he has struggled to remain alive. Our feelings for each other transcend the highest of the high, and the deepest of the deep. And he is the one person on this earth that really knows the 'real me'.

We live in different worlds. He was raised in a very small town in northern New England, while I grew up in New York City. His talents in the physic world are truly incredible. Far different from my world, but very similar in many ways. He will not tell me what will happen in my life, and I respect him for that. He will only say that I shouldn't worry -- I will be fine.

He is an imposing man, somewhere around 6'3" tall, and the only way I could describe him is 'lanky'. Not thin, by any means, but not big either. He gives the impression of being well educated but, in truth, my education was longer than his. He has the 'street smarts' that are needed to get along in this world. His sound of his voice can be very soothing, and he is a very private person. Yet he has shared with me some of his very personal secrets. Those secrets will not be repeated here since they are his secrets and are not for me to divulge. Suffice it to say that he is the person that he is because of things that he has done, or lived through. He has come to terms with himself, and keeps me on the 'straight and narrow' as I follow the path I have chosen. As you will recall, I mentioned him previously in my blogs. He is the one who showed me the paths I could choose from, and regressed me so that I could find my past.

He is one of my 'shoulders to cry on', and always shows me the brighter side of what is happening. He makes me laugh at times when I do not feel like laughing. I once asked him why he did that. Simply put, he loves the sound of my laughter.

Our conversations touch on many, many subjects. And we teach each other and learn from one another. I am his 'sweetness'; he is my 'sweet'. I am so grateful for him -- for his presence in my life, for his understanding, for his kindness, for his respect, and for his love.

Mwah, Ron.