New Mexico Navajo Indian Medicine Man Might Have Foretold John Wright Creating Piggybankblog Nearly Thirty Years Ago
Put mouse below to play intro music.
Navajo Indian Might Have Foretold John Wright Creating Piggybankblog Nearly Thirty Years Ago
August 1st, 2012
Written by John Wright
In 1988 I moved from San Jose, California (where I was born and raised) to New Mexico with my best friend from high school. I was eighteen in 1988 attending a high school graduation party when I made the split second decision to move. The event is still so clear in my mind. I can remember standing in one spot at the party staring into each one of my high school friends’ eyes individually one by one. I could see all the excitement and optimism in their eyes but I could see something else too. I could see the fear in their eyes. Then I noticed my best friend sitting on the ground across the room with his back against the wall and away from everyone else at the party. This particular best high school friend was actually born on the same day in the same year and in the same hospital within the same few hours I was born on March 26th, 1970. I walked over to where he was sitting because he looked sad and I could sense something was wrong. I immediately sat down directly right next to him and put one arm over his shoulder and asked what was wrong. His answer and my reply would change the entire course of my life.
John Wright: “Hey! What’s the matter!? Why do you look sad!?”
High School Friend: “I am sad because I am moving with my family to New Mexico in two weeks and I am going to miss everyone. We are moving to New Mexico because my mom has family there I have never met and she wants to be close to her mother. She is from a really small town in New Mexico called“Abiquiú”. It’s a small town. It’s nothing like the Bay Area. I am scared because I have lived in California all my life and I don’t think I can do it. Tears started running down his face as he slowly looked over at me. I don’t know anyone there. It is going to be so different. It would be different if I was not going to New Mexico alone but ….. Wait a minute! John! You should go with us! It would be perfect for you since you don’t have a home or a family ever since you ran away from home when we were fifteen! My family would love you! You would have a family that loved you! We could get an apartment two hours away in Albuquerque! John let’s do it! You want to move to New Mexico with me and my family?”
John Wright: “I don’t see why not. I’m going to be miserable now that I am an adult and cannot have as much fun. I guess I could be just as miserable in New Mexico. Yeah — okay — I will move to New Mexico with you.“
High School Friend: “Seriously! You would do that for me!? John! You would do that for me!?”
John Wright: “Yeah. I would do that for you. There is only one thing. You have to promise not to be sad anymore and have fun with the rest of us at the party.”
High School Friend: “I promise. However — John — before we go back into the party I have to say something to you. I am so sorry I used to come home late from parties and find you sleeping on the cold ground outside waiting for me to come home when you had nowhere to go when you ran away from home. I know you had a hard life when you were growing up and I am sorry. I would always feel bad because you looked so cold and hungry. I feel ashamed. I should have come home early every night just to make sure you were not sleeping on the ground waiting for me to come home. This is especially considering what you are willing to do for me right now. John — do you forgive me?”
John Wright: “I forgive you. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. That’s because there was no way you could have known what night I would come to your house. I have a question though.”
High School Friend: “What?”
John Wright: “Is New Mexico a country or a state.”
High School Friend (laughing and crying): “It’s a state.”
John Wright: “Okay. I just thought I should ask.”
The next thing you know– BAM — two weeks later — I was in the back of a pickup truck getting drunk with my friend — heading to New Mexico with his family.
New Mexico was really different than the San Francisco Bay Area. I was not accustomed to the traditions and superstitions of the New Mexico people because New Mexico had a large Spanish Catholic and Navaho Indian population. The first thing I noticed was the other teenage boys my age did not seem to like people who came from California. I am guessing it was because all the teenage girls in New Mexico did like the teenage boys who came from California. I was unsure if that was the reason though and one day I decided to ask someone at a New Mexico party. The person I decided to ask was a twenty five year old Navajo young man. I can say “young man” now because I am in my forties writing this story but he seemed much older to me at the age of eighteen.
John Wright: “Hey! I have a question for you. I figure you are the perfect person to answer this question since I notice you keep glaring at me. How come New Mexico guys do not seem to like guys from California?”
Navajo Man: “That’s because you are a white boy with blue eyes! That’s why! The white man took our land from us! That’s another reason why! Why don’t we like guys from California? That’s because you spoiled white boys in California just smoke pot and have orgies and drink martinis in your hot tubs day and night! That’s why!”
John Wright: “That is absolutely not true! I have never had a martini in my life!”
Navajo Man: “You are pretty cool and funny for a white boy! I don’t know why but I like you! You might be one of the coolest white boys I have ever met! One of the funniest too! I have a question for you though! I have seen you at a few parties! How come you never seem afraid of anyone? Who are you? What’s your name — white boy!?”
John Wright: “Apparently my name is ‘White Boy” — according to you! The reason I am not afraid is because the day I was born the rain came down and they knew there was trouble in my hometown my little brother from another motha! Ha! Ha! Ha! I’m just kidding! My name is John. It’s nice to meet you! What’s your name!?”
Navajo Man: “Check this little white boy out! I like you white boy! I like you because you are not afraid of anyone and you are funny! My name is Daryl. That’s my white boy name. I actually live in the apartment right next door with my wife and kids. Maybe I will come hang out with you over at your apartment sometimes. Would that be alright with you?”
John Wright: “Sure! Stop by whenever you want!”
The Navajo Indian friend named “Daryl” started visiting me several times a week because our apartments were literally connected together and in the same complex. Native Americans in the United States have historically been known to abuse alcohol and Daryl was no exception to the rule. He had a very serious drinking problem. It was the same routine every single day during the entire year I knew him. He would visit me in the morning sober and visit me in the evening drunk. Then sometimes he would disappear for weeks during drinking binges. It was during the sober visits he shared with me what it was like growing up on an Indian reservation and taught me about the Navajo Indian culture. I was absolutely fascinated because I was known for having an usual interest in the Indian culture since a very young age. He was equally interested in me sharing with him what it was like growing up in northern California because Daryl had never been outside New Mexico. He was also very interested in the intense Christian spiritual beliefs I shared with him. The friendship was never a super close friendship but nevertheless it was a friendship where we connected somehow on a spiritual level. During one sober unannounced visit Daryl noticed some journals I had sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
Daryl: “What is this sitting on the coffee table?”
John Wright: “It’s my journal.”
Daryl: “What’s a journal?”
John Wright: “It’s sort of a diary for a man. I have been keeping a journal since the age of twelve for no apparent reason. It’s sort of an obsession. I cannot really explain the reason I do it. I just do it.”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “Wait a minute! You write? You never told me you write!”
John Wright: “I didn’t think it was important.”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “How often do you write?”
John Wright: “I write something every single day.”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “You do !? What do you write about”! ?
John Wright: “I write whatever is on my mind on any particular day. Sometimes I write whatever is going on historically in the world and sometimes I write about spiritual things.”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “Do you ever write about me!?”
John Wright: “I write about you if you stop by like you did now. I will probably even write this conversation down you and I are having. Why? What’s the big deal? Haven’t you ever met someone who writes?”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “I can’t believe I have finally met you! I was told I would meet you one day and now you are standing right in front of me! I can’t believe we have been talking this whole time and it was you the whole time!”
John Wright: “What are you talking about?”
Daryl (Intense Stare): “Listen — John — don’t go anywhere! I will be right back! I am going to bring back the Indian Medicine Man from our tribe to meet you! Give me about thirty minutes! Please don’t go anywhere!”
Then he immediately stood up from the couch and walked very quickly out the door and shut the door behind him. Thirty minutes later Daryl returned with an older gentleman in his sixties with long gray hair in a ponytail. I motioned for Daryl and the older gentleman to have a seat on the couch in the living room. Daryl and the older gentlemen both sat down side by side on the same couch. The older gentleman was staring at me in a way to suggest he was examining me very closely. It sort of made me uncomfortable. However — Daryl — on the other hand — was staring at me with a look of excitement and anticipation suggesting Daryl was waiting for some kind of confirmation. I eventually sat down on a couch opposite them and waited for someone to give me an explanation.
John Wright: “Can someone please tell me what is going on?”
Navajo Medicine Man: “There is a reason your friend Daryl has brought me here to meet you. I am a Navaho Indian Medicine Man. I am the Medicine Man for our tribe. In our culture the Medicine Man gives a fifteen year old boy in our tribe a reading for his life and future. I am the one who gave your friend Daryl a reading when he turned fifteen. I told Daryl one day he would meet a young white man with blue eyes who would write something very important people would read in the future.”
This is when the Navaho Indian Medicine Man began to tell me a story in very colorful detail about the event that this young white man would write about in the future.
Navajo Medicine Man: “In the day of the great storm there shall be many mighty ships. There will also be the Chiefs inside these ships who drive them. These ships have been built for storms but this storm is an unusually strong one. They will realize that this storm shall be worse than the other storms previous. During this time the angry waves of the sea shall consume both the large and small vessel but there shall be many that will remain. Some ships will sink during the day of the Great Storm. Other ships will be damaged but still floating. The Chiefs of the remaining ships shall become tired — confused — scared and exhausted. That’s because they are ships with no set course. They will not know where to turn for safety and shall want to give up at some point but just before they do they shall see a small pinpoint of light off in the distance. Then while fighting the angry sea they will turn their mighty ships towards that small light. “
The Navajo Indian Medicine Man paused at this point as though he knew I would ask him what the light was the ships were heading towards.
John Wright: “What is the light they are heading towards?”
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.”
John Wright: “A pen with no ink? How can someone write with a pen that has no ink? It does not really matter though. I am not a very good writer. That is why I am confident you have the wrong person.”
Navajo Medicine Man: “It is not what you write they shall follow. It is your hope.”
At one point my friend Daryl looked away from the Indian Medicine Man and stood up from where he was sitting on the couch. He stood there for a few seconds staring at me. I do not think he blinked even one time. Then he slowly walked towards me until he was standing right in front of me. At one point he used the back of his hand to rub my face while he just stared at me.
Daryl: “Will you write about me?”
John Wright: “Listen — Daryl — I’m – I’m — I’m not…… yeah. You bet pal.”
I could see in his eyes he needed to believe I was this person. I did not have the heart to tell him I was not.
The story ends with the Navajo Medicine Man eventually leaving about an hour after he arrived. I remember him walking away with his back to me. Then at one point he turned around and started walking back towards me until he was directly in front of me again. This is when he reached his hand forward and began gently patting the side of my face.
Navajo Medicine Man: “Clever boy. Clever boy. Clever boy.”
The Navajo Indian Medicine Man walked away from me until I could not see him anymore. It would be the last time I would ever see him. I also never saw my friend Daryl again after I moved back to California in 1989.
Twenty two years later in May of 2010 I started a blog after one of the greatest economic and mortgage collapses since the Great Depression hit our nation. I named the blog “Piggybankblog”. It was not until six months after starting my blog that I remembered the New Mexico Navaho Indian Medicine Man and the New Mexico Great Grandmother story. I immediately pulled my hands off the keyboard and put one hand on my mouth as I remembered both stories. I just sat there staring at the computer screen as the tears rolled down my face.
Therefore — Laddies and Gentleman of the Court of Public Opinion — it appears the creation of Piggybankblog.com has truly been a Field of Dreams story for me.
There you go Daryl. I wrote about you. Therefore I have fulfilled my promise to you nearly twenty years later.
- Part III of Three Part John Wright Jesus Dream Series
- New Mexico Great Grandmother Angel Story
- John’s Daily Blog
- Other articles John Wright has written
My name is John Wright.AND I AM FIGHTING BACK!
All Rise! .The Honorable Judge Wright has left The Court of Public Opinion!
Your donation makes a difference in my life.
PRIVACY NOTICE: Warning – any person and/or institution and/or Agent and/or Agency of any governmental structure including but not limited to the United States Federal Government also using or monitoring/using this website or any of its associated websites, you do NOT have my permission to utilize any of my profile information nor any of the content contained herein including, but not limited to my photos, and/or the comments made about my photos or any other “picture” art posted on my profile.
You are hereby notified that you are strictly prohibited from disclosing, copying, distributing, disseminating, or taking any other action against me with regard to this profile and the contents herein. The foregoing prohibitions also apply to your employee , agent , student or any personnel under your direction or control.
The contents of this profile are private and legally privileged and confidential information, and the violation of my personal privacy is punishable by law. UCC 1-103 1-308 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED WITHOUT PREJUDICE
Leave a Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.