The Navajo Indian Medicine Man Prophesy of “The Day of The Great Storm” Over 20 Years Ago To John Wright. It Is A Message Of Hope!
Since May of 2010
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“In the day of the Great Storm it is not what you write that they shall follow. It is your hope.”
Written by John Wright
This blog has been written to remind you that faith the size of a mustard seed shall indeed remove mountains from their place. Yet when I was younger I was a realist – and that meant if you would have told me that there was this thing called fate – I probably would not have believed you. This is even though I had been exposed to many different religions and cultures that would teach me that everyone had a purpose in life. Then something happened to me that would change the rest of my life. It would be something that I could no longer deny but only confess — which is that sometimes when you believe the impossible — the incredible comes true.
The greatest teacher I would end up having in my life was my Oma (Grandmother in German). My Oma was a German citizen back during the Nazi times under the dictatorship of Adolf Hitler. Oma would always tell me the stories of when she was a teenager running around Germany during days of war. I remember one story in particular where she would describe the fear she felt when bombs would drop down from the sky towards her from the hundreds of allied planes. I would always marvel over the fact that if one of those bombs hit her — I would not be here to even write this story for you. Yet I remember the story as if it was yesterday. This is because Oma explained to me that she did not know if she should run forward because she was afraid she would run into one. She did not know if she should fun backwards because she would run into it still. Yet she feared that if she stood right in the same place it might run into her. That is when she explained that it felt as if there were steal pins running through her arms and legs to the point she could not move in any direction.
Oma: “And you know what kid? Those bombs landed everywhere except where I was standing. That is when I realized that I had a purpose in life. So I looked up at God and asked him what he wanted me to do next.”
I was Intrigued. So I asked Oma what she learned our purpose was. Her response was simple but powerful like always.
Oma: “Amazingly enough kid — it is not all that complicated really. We are here to help someone else. You are here to put yourself in a position to help someone else. The problem in the world today is that too many people only want to concentrate on helping themselves and not others.”
I was only fourteen years old when I had this conversation with my Oma. She passed away suddenly in my arms in 2003. I remember I cried my eyes out that day like I was ten years old all over again. This is because I realized that I had just lost my greatest Guru in my life. God rest her soul — but we shall meet again someday.
However, my true spiritual journey started when I had left home at the age of fifteen years old. Yet I would not experience the more spiritual sides of life until I had moved from San Jose California to Albuquerque New Mexico at the age of 18 years old. I had decided to move to New Mexico with another 18 year old friend from high school. This is because my friend had family there that he had never met — and his family said they could help us start out if we moved there. It sounded like a good idea because we both needed to get away from all the bad influences we had back in California. We seemed to be having too much fun – if you know what I mean? So off we were to a distant land far from the life I knew in California.
Now this was the kind of move that was an extraordinary journey for a California kid. This I am sure you can imagine if you have ever been to the remote parts of New Mexico. You see I was not accustomed to the superstitions of the New Mexico people. This is because New Mexico had a large but mostly Catholic and Navajo Indian population – which had a completely different way of thinking than we did in California. I am guessing that one of the reasons might have been because I noticed they all seemed much more spiritual. They seemed to take it much more seriouisly. It might have been because they were very poor where I went to in New Mexico.
The first thing I realized when I arrived in New Mexico was that the guys my age all hated California guys. I just figured it was because all the New Mexico girls loved California guys — but I would find it was much more complex than that. You see — one day out of curiosity I asked one of the New Mexico guys named “Daryl” why they seem to hate California guys so much. He said that it was because all the California teens smoke pot - have orgies –and drink martinis in their hot tubs all day and night. I think he was implying that we were spoiled. I just started laughing when he said it but Daryl just glared at me while I laughed. Then he asked me what was so funny. That is when I told him that I had never had a martini in my life. There was this long pause. Then he just started laughing with a big smile on his face. That is because he thought it was funny that the only thing I denied was that I had never had a martini before. That’s the thing — I have always had the ability to make people laugh during tense situations. Needless to say, this is the day that me and the Navajo Indian guy Daryl became friends. I could have never known back then how much of a major part he would end up playing in my life and my future. (The picture on upper right is where I was at in Abiquiu New Mexico. It is the same exact view I would see when I was 18 and living there.)
Daryl was 25 years old and married with kids at the time I was 18 years old living in New Mexico. He seemed so much older to me back then — but now I realize he was just a baby himself. It was cool because him and his wife lived with their children right next door to me in our apartment complex. However, this meant that I could hear Daryl and his wife arguing all the time, which I should mention he never dared yelled back. I am guessing that it always had to do with the fact that Daryl would stay out late drinking the night before. I am sure his wife did not appreciate being left home alone with the kids all the time while he was drinking. That was another thing about the Navajo’s back then – all the ones that I knew seemed to have a drinking problem. I was told this was because they were a repressed people who had not always been afforded the opportunities that white people had. They seem to lack hope for their future. It was sort of sad.
One day Daryl came over after fighting with his wife. I let him in – and as usual — he went over and sat on the couch that had the coffee table in front of it. I immediately went over and picked up a stack of daily journals that I had sitting on the coffee table in front of him to put them away. That is when Daryl asked me what the 2 feet high stack of paper I had just picked up was. I told him that it was my journal. Daryl had a limited education because he grew up on an Indian reservation. That is why I had to explain to him that it was sort of like a diary for men. Right when I said that — Daryl stood straight up with his eyes wide opened look and looked at me with excitement when he asked, “YOU WRITE?” He then asked me how often I write. I was perplexed by his excitement — but I answered with the fact that I write every single day. He then got even more excited. Then he asked me what I write about. I told him that I write about whatever happens in my day.
Daryl: “Do you ever write about me?”
John Wright: “If you stop by like you did now — I guess I write about you.”
Daryl: “I will be right back! Don’t go anywhere! I will be back in thirty minutes.”
At that point I just stood there with my journal in my hands staring at him almost running out the front door. I just shrugged my shoulders while thinking about how different the New Mexico people were compared to the people I knew in California. Then I just went and put my journal away.
About thirty minutes later I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it up I could see Daryl had brought back with him an older American Navajo Indian man. He looked like he was about 50 years old. The older man asked me if he could come in and talk to me with Daryl for a bit. Well – by this time – I was totally intrigued with what this was all about. That is why I invited them in and offered them something to drink as they sat on the couch. At first they both just sat there and staring at me for an intense two or three minutes. It was almost like they were examining me or something — which by the way – made me feel really uncomfortable.
Navajo Medicine Man: “John — I am the Medicine Man for our tribe. In our culture I give a boy in our tribe a reading for his life when he turns 15 years of age. I am the one that gave Daryl the reading when he was 15 years old. The reason I am here is because I told Daryl that one day he would meet a young white man with blue eyes — and that this white man would write something in the future that would influence many.”
John Wright: “Let me guess – because I am a white man with blue eyes who keeps a journal — you think I am that man, right?”
Navajo Medicine Man: “I do not know yet. That is why I am here.”
This is when the Medicine Man began to tell me a story in very colorful detail about the event that this person would write about in the future.
“In the day of the great storm there shall be many mighty ships. There will be the Chiefs who drive them too. These ships have been built for storms — but this storm shall be an unusually strong one — and they will realize that this storm shall be worse than the storms previous. During this time the angry waves of the sea shall toss them and turn them day and night. The angry waves will consume both the large and the small vessel to the point that some of them will sink. And yet there shall be many that will remain damaged but floating. Each Chief of the remaining ships shall become tired and confused and scared and exhausted. This is because they are ships with no set course. That is why they will not know where to turn for safety during the day of the Great Storm. They shall want to give up at some point — and yet – just before they do – they shall see a small pinpoint of light off in the distance. Then while fighting the angry sea they shall turn their mighty ships towards that small light.”
That is when the Medicine Man stopped talking. He then turned and looked at me but remained silent. I did not understand the meaning of the vision he had just told me. So I was curious to what that light was these ships were heading towards. That is when I asked the Medicine Man what the light was.
Navajo Medicine Man: “In the day of the great storm you shall write with a pen that has no ink. Whatever you shall write will be that light.”
Well nobody had a computer in 1988. This is why I remember thinking to myself how it could be possible for someone to write wtih a pen with no ink. Yet I explained to the Medicine Man that I was not a very good writer. That is why I knew it could not be me.
Navajo Medicine Man: “In the day of the Great Storm it is not what you write that they shall follow. It is your hope.
It was at this time that I thought I would crack a joke. I told him that maybe if he would have given Daryl a “writing” lesson instead of a “reading” lesson — maybe the fact that I keep a journal would not be so amazing to him. I started to laugh at my own joke — but he just looked away from me and towards Daryl very slowly.
Navajo Medicine Man: “It is him. That is the thing about this individual in the vision. He has a unique sense of humor that will help people during the day of the great storm.”
Daryl looked away from him and stood up. He just stood their staring at me. Then he slowly walked towards me and rubbed the back of his hand on my face while he slowly tilted his head looking into my eyes without blinking. It was almost as if he was seeing someone that he had been waiting to meet since he was 15 years old.
Daryl: “Will you write about me?”
Well I was so overwhelmed by this experience that I did not know what to say to him. The truth was that I did not really believe in anything they were saying. I was just being polite by listening to all of it.
John Wright: “Listen Daryl — I’m – I’m — I’m not……You bet pal.”
I simply did not have the heart to tell him because I could see in his eyes he needed to believe that I was this person.
The Navajo Medicine Man eventually left — but before he did — he stopped outside the door and turned around and looked at me from outside the door of my apartment. He slowly walked up to me — lightly patted my face with his hands as he smiled while he said ……. “Clever boy.” I did not know what he meant by this. However, after he said it, he then turned around and walked away from me for the last time.
I have never seen the Navajo Medicine Man ever again.
The ships in the youtube below were sent to me from all of you here at Piggybankblog to represent your personal struggle with all this.
It has been nearly 23 years since I have last seen you. Where have the years gone my old friend? Yet time and distance shall not stop me from writing in spirit to you right now. That is why I pray this blog entry will help me locate you after all these years.
Daryl, when I first started my journey with this blog, I was much like the farmer in that movie “Field of Dreams”. This is because I too heard a voice that whispered into my ear one day that said, “if you build it they will come.” In a like manner, my feelings with building this blog are much the same as the character in this movie after he built a baseball field in the middle of his corn field — but simply because he just believed.
Ironically, the man in the movie named “Ray” would also be under threat of foreclosure like most of us.
I remember what the Medicine Man said to us that day. He said that what would happen in the fuure would be the result of the curse that the Indian put on the white man’s government. He said that it was because your people had their land stolen from the white man’s governments with a lie. I can now truly say that we all know the fear and sadness that you and your people must have felt in that day that our government betrayed your people. That is because they might have also betrayed us now too. Yet I hope the prayers of your people will show more mercy to us than we might have shown to your people in that day.
I look forward to the day that you and me shall meet again. This is because in that day we shall go fishing — and when we do — we shall talk about the more simpler things in life like we used to. Yet for now — it is my sincerest hope that your ship is upon calm waters during the days that I write to you from.
I have kept my promise that I had made to you so many years ago. This is because I have indeed written about you during the days of “The Great Storm” with my pen that has no ink.
Your friend always,
My name is John Wright AND I AM FIGHTING BACK!
All Rise! The Honorable Judge Wright has left The Courtroom of Public Opinion!
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