Thursday, December 28, 2006
Location: Pincher Creek, Alberta

I’m back in the world: the world of eating, drinking, sleeping, and comfort. Regardless of individual volition, intuition or personal faith, we all make choices throughout our lives, and much of what I’m doing out here on the road has to do with just that. Choices. Which path do we choose to travel?

In choosing the path of a four-day fast, with no food or water, lasting from the 22nd – the 26th, I was making a clear decision. But first, in order to get out on the land, I had to cross a few hurdles, or rather, I had to question my intentions. Was I fasting out of ego, was the fast ‘all about me’, was it some relentless age-old pattern of self-denial and abuse, was I seeking guidance, or after a mystical experience, why was I running headlong towards hardship and physical suffering?

When I last wrote about fasting I mentioned I was going out to talk to an elder about my intentions. Within a few minutes of arriving at his home, desperate for guidance, I blurted out, “I’m planning to fast over Christmas. I’m leaving everything, food, water, my dog, I intend to go without, and I’m wondering if you have any thoughts?” I laugh now looking back, I was so eager, so naïve, so foolish, walking straight into the sightline of a keen discerning eye.

After speaking for a while, and him explaining the deeper traditional process of fasting, he then replied, “You’re going camping. It will be good for you to do what you’re doing, but don’t be too hard on yourself and take your dog with you.” I had come to him for guidance, but instead had the wind taken out of my sails, or so it seemed.

A few days earlier, I had gone to visit this same elder to ask him to bless some tobacco and sweet grass for me to use as offerings as I traveled. There and then he had told me, “I don’t need to bless this for you. When you make an offering, it comes from you, and it has everything to do with your intentions. Your intentionality, in itself, is the blessing.”

Standing there, the wind taken out of my sails, this conversation resurfaced. Here, I had walked into his home, hauling a load of metaphysical junk, and with a few words it all fell away, like fall leaves, leaving only intentionality. There and then I knew I would go ahead with my process, not under the Blackfoot tradition, but following my own truth and with honest and respectful intentions. The next day, with the help of friends, I was guided to a location down by the Old Man River, on the Piikani Reserve. Traditionally the Blackfoot fast at higher elevations, so for me, this was perfect, a good fit for my humility, water always running to the lowest point, but powerful nonetheless.

I chose to fast for many reasons. And, most of these reasons have to do with my own personal journey, to share in my own time down the road. Learn to be quiet, I’ve been told, in speaking indiscriminately we dilute power, learn to keep your damn mouth shut. This has been a slow road, since I love to share, but I’m learning discretion, and which medicines require more care.

Other, more accessible reasons for the fasting process have to do with this project and my purpose out here on the road.

I’m deeply interested in what we fail to see in our everyday reality; the whispers we often fail to take the time to listen to; our increasing lack of feeling and intuition, the dulling of what is truly real, in the wake of so much that is not. This is what I am seeking, and, I feel, in order to see a broader picture of reality, to step outside, requires a dedicated and honest intention, to slow down, perhaps to an almost pure and complete stop.

…

In returning home to ‘reality’, humbled and somehow more aware, a few times I was asked, “did you have any visions?”

I will not say I experienced visions, but rather, my vision has shifted. The world appears or maybe feels slightly different, I’m not sure. As yet, I am unable to put my finger on it, and like all things it will take some time to digest. A good message in itself, to allow time to do what time does best, travel it’s own course.

peace,
d