| Under the night of the western plains sky, laid out with suns and moons and planets, He and I travel. On the road before us He sees a rattlesnake. And who is He? He is the one who invited me to hell to kill my own rattlesnake and salvage my own rattles. Here and now He is The One I am with. This is how I came to be here in the wild west, through a souvenir rattle tail of a snake, sent across worlds from Him to me. Past many moons and blown by certain winds I came for His rattled medicine. _______________________________________________________________________________ I have been here enough to know sagebrush from fireweed. I have yet to have met a rattlesnake. He introduces me to my first one. It is dead on the road. He hands me His knife. He commands I cut off the rattles. At first I resist, squeamish and afraid, but He commands me and I comply. I have cut up dead meat before, and I will do it again, so I do it now. I leave the body of the dead snake on the road. I carry the rattles from the dead snake away with me as He and I travel on together. Within five minutes time, it as if we are passing the same place though we have kept moving. He sees before us a rattlesnake. This is a LIVE rattlesnake, larger than the corpse we left down the road. It is coiled for self-protection. It's eyes are held on the demons that were us. It's fangs evident...rattles less evident. He commands me coldly "Kill it." I argue heatedly " I cannot, I do not kill things". He commands still "Kill it." I rationalize. I can and do kill things. I have been known to swat a mosquito. I have been known to set predator on prey. I must stop questioning and obey this order from the One who knows the wild west. I have His Sexton's shovel. He is assured. Confident. My fear is not His fear. I find in me the compulsion to chop off this serpent's head. I scream and I stab with the shovel at it's neck, but my heart is not in this and I change force mid swing. The shovel only cuts half into the snake, and not nearly close enough to it's head. I feel the shovel resist in the body of the now fighting for survival, whip loose tail end of the pinned snake. I am lock eyed with the bloody eyes in the head of the rattlesnake I am in a death match with. The Commander guides me to slay the animal. "Raise the shovel and kill it." He orders over and over, but I resist, arguing that if I lift the shovel the snake will strike me before I have a chance to draw back and I strike first. He tells me I can and will kill the snake. "Am I in striking distance?" I cry. "You are wasting time! Raise the shovel and kill it." There is power in passion. It is rational now. I must , without question, kill this snake before it sinks it's teeth and venomizes me. I win the race as I draw back and chop down with only intent to kill. The head of the snake lands a foot from it's body. I scoop this angry head in the shovel and fling it, fangs flying, far away. While the disconnected head fights on for life in the ditch, away, the body twists and swirls, fighting for life on the ground before me. Neither end knows it is dead yet. I am awestruck watching it. I am stunned at what has transpired. From awe, I am drawn to action by His command. "Take your rattles." Again I protest. He holds out his knife and I take it and I pick up the powerful headless writhing snake with even more powerful resolve. I hack and saw the rattles off the tail. I know exacltly where to cut. _____________________________________________________________________________ He and I travel on, and though he chastises me sternly for not killing this snake in the first blow, I know that He is secretly pleased with me. I carry the rattles. He tells that the snake, was large, but likely the most docile rattler he'd met out of hundreds. I say "Even a docile rattlesnake is a fearful thing to kill." Most suprising to me was that this terrifyingly intense situation I had experienced had not disturbed my overall peace. Though His call upon me to slay the viper had been forceful, the decision to act was mine. I had killed again, and I did not disturb my self. Herein the surprise: I felt proud. My rattles were immediate treasure in respect of my violence and reverence. Mother Earth can be gentle or she can be violent, both are in her nature and if you truly love her, you accept both as part of her, for over all, she is good. Who shall judge her or me? I will not always obey His command. No. I have free will and there are times when I can and cannot be willed. I am no more nor less than He in willpower. But: In the living hell of the wild west night I am likely to heed His dark call. I am amans libertine and I am Mother Earth. I |
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| What follows from here are my pages, built to amuse me and a few others. This is what happens when I am given crayons, scissors, paper , a pencil and a bunch of photos. The only promise I can make is that no matter which way you go from here, we will cross paths again. All I ask of you is to sign the guestbook at some point in your travels. I like to know who has visited. |