by J. J. Park
THE MAGIC FLUTE
THE
MAGIC FLUTE
MAGICAL JOURNEY SPIRITUAL AWAKENING
J.J. PARK
Copyright © 2018, 2020, J.J. Park
All Rights Reserved. This book or any version thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SQUIRREL PUBLISHING
Paperback ISBN Number: 9798592052491
First edition 2021
Table of Contents
1 DYAMI’S WORLD
VISION QUEST
2 APACHE INDIAN LIFE: TIMES GONE BY
SUN GOD AND MYTHICAL HORSES
GOPAN’S VISION
TRADITION AND THE CHANGING WORLD
3 ASTRONOMY CLASS
DREAM ABOUT ALIENS
4 COSMOS: THE CREATOR’S ATELIER
5 AGORA AND OLYMPIA
COMMUNAL CEREMONY
6 THE NILE AND EGYPTIAN FARMER
APACHE THANKSGIVING
7 MASQUERADE AND REVOLUTION
8 WAR
BLOWN OUT OF TIME
APACHE CHRISTMAS
9 THREE VISIONS
Vision I: THE SLAVE TRADING
Vision II: TRAIN RIDE TO AUSCHWITZ
Vision III: HELL
HEROES IN HELL
SELF EXAMINATION
10 GROWING UP
THE PASSING OF AN ERA
11 THE TASTE OF REALITY
12 CHALLENGE
CATHARSIS
NEW FRIENDS
WINTER RECESS
13 ANOTHER CHAPTER
CHANGES
LIFE ALTERING EVENT
14 DIVINE ABODE
FLOWERS, BUTTERFLIES, BIRDS
FUTURE
ENDNOTES
DEDICATION
TO
MY GRANDMOTHER IN HEAVEN
1
DYAMI’S WORLD
Dyami was on the way to the lake through a narrow trail hidden under the overgrown grass, barely discernible. The path was a shortcut created by many years of passing human feet and animal paws. He had a fishing rod in hand.
It was a warm summer afternoon, and life had slowed down; nonetheless refreshed and energized by a dive in the waterfall, Dyami (Eagle) was eager to test the new reel. Tall reeds and the heat were no match for his enthusiasm.
The rod was a gift from his father for helping out with a community project. Fishing became one of his favorite activities over the years ever since he, at seven, watched his father catch a trout and taught him how to use various fishing tackles, baits, baiting, and casting.
The cottonwood and pine tree canopy protected the forest from the summer sun. Squirrels scuttled for acorns, and birds chirped and flew.
As he navigated the overrun track, he caught a glimpse of a cat fleeing through the dense trees from the corner of his eyes. It had speckles on its fur and a long tail. He immediately thought of ocelot.
“Look, Look,” he cried out, then felt foolish, realizing that he was alone. His fishing buddy Gopan (Protection) had chores to do for his father.
Two adolescents were born a few weeks apart. Their family lived in proximity to each other, and their two mothers shared their upbringing. In the process, they became like brothers, partaking in all activities, bonding deeply, almost inseparable, now grown up to healthy and wholesome adolescents, owing to their mothers.
In the summer, the two explored the wood whenever possible. They felt at home in it while meandering, looking, and exploring new parts. They sometimes discovered a plant they had never seen before among the abundant vegetation growing in every corner.
When berries were in season, they picked them for their mothers. Dyami’s doting mother, Ekta, who had a dramatic flair, often called them “children of the woodland.”
They found an ancient oak tree whose curved branches spread high and wide in different directions during such wanderings. It must have lived centuries, at least 700 years, they speculated.
Dyami loved the oak’s expansive and noble nature. How much it may have witnessed as it stood there in silence. What phenomena! What spectacles! What wonders!
The oak opened up the natural world to Dyami. He often visited the oak; leaning against its sturdy trunk, he glimpsed into the life of the forest. Orioles sang, and the woodpecker hammered in the thicket. Squirrels looked for nuts in his hands then scampered away disappointed; a rabbit hopped through the bushes and stopped to munch on grasses.
He once saw a red fox in the undergrowth looking for prey, and he could almost see the same rabbit running for life with the fox on its tail. The wood was a fertile ground for the imagination. It wasn’t too difficult to picture a sleek wildcat stalking a rodent under a bush and an elk and deer passing, unaware of his presence under the oak.
Dyami arrived at the lake’s edge under the willow tree, where he often saw schools of trout swimming.
A light breeze stirred the air, and a butterfly fluttered across the nodding yucca flowers along the lake’s border. The intensity of the sun had diminished to a tolerable level.
He flicked the rod into the clear water.
The cool breeze carried the blending scents of jojoba, sage, lavender, and sweetgrass. A dragonfly flew by, riding on the light warm air. It was one of those still summer days when the world seemed at peace.
After a short wait, Dyami felt a tug; it was a baby trout wiggling to get free. He released it as his father taught him. His father, Nantan (Spokesman), was an avid conservationist.
He cast the line back with a new bait and waited.
Dyami was a bright and thoughtful adolescent. He was one of the most promising students in his high school on the reservation. His family expected a lot from him, their only son.
Naturally, he felt the pressure. It increasingly burdened him as he thought about going to college in just two years. He didn’t want to leave his loving home and friendly community.
Through the media, he heard much about racism and discrimination outside the reservation. His Grandfather Kuruk (Bear) and elder Taza (chief) often recited the historical account of “white intruders” brutal practices.
After hearing Dyami’s concerns, his Grandfather suggested a vision quest on his 16th birthday as a rite of passage. Traditionally, the participating adolescent carried out four raids with grown men to prove his manhood.
This tradition was obsolete now; his Grandfather believed that a vision quest could replace the rite of passage to help Dyami resolve conflicts and find a direction.
The fishing line remained loose. The sun had moved toward the west, and it was time to return home. Dyami reeled the line in and walked back to the village situated near the pine forest.
Once a grassland and wildflowers, it now had scattered low mounds, clumps of mugworts, and sagebrush thriving among modest houses.
When he reached his home, he directly went to the small grassy field where his horse, Lato, waited for a ride. He saw him grazing.
Lato, a year-old Cayuse Indian pony, was his father’s birthday gift when he reached five. It had a light brown body and black tail. Lato’s gentle temper made it easy to train him, and once Lato was well broke, Dyami rode him daily. During this time, he learned the general care of the horse-feeding, grooming-a task he took seriously.
Later, Dyami took Lato to the derby when the community got together to have horse races and socialize. Kuruk and Taza, occasionally soused with Tiswin on these occasions, exchanged banter with other older men.
At one of these races, Lato ran like a champion, winning a tro
phy for Dyami. One can only imagine the pride Dyami has for his horse, Lato.
It was too late to go for a ride. Dyami walked into the house from the back kitchen door, and the cooking aroma immediately tickled his nose. His sister, Chenoa (Dove), was helping their mother.
“It smells good. What’s for dinner?” Dyami asked.
“Oh, good. You came home just in time for dinner,” Dyami’s mother said.
Then he heard his father reading the Apache Junction and Gold Canyon News aloud to his Grandfather in the living room.
“They proceeded with running oil in the Dakota Access Pipeline underneath Lake Oahe,” said his father.
“It’s as if they never heard our concerns!” his Grandfather commented.
“Can we do something about it?” Dyami asked the two older men, joining them in the living room.
“There will be protests and court appeals,” his father said.
“Will that help?”
“I wouldn’t count on that. We live under an oppressive law written by whites for whites,” Kuruk said resentfully.
Kuruk never forgot his father, Mangas (Chief), recounting atrocities committed by white settlers against his people. It was an expected response whenever an occasion arose. Nantan had become used to his father’s laments over the years.
“By the way, I met Gopan’s father today. Gopan will be having the rite of passage soon,” Nantan quickly changed the subject.
“I know. Gopan told me,” Dyami answered.
“What about you? Let’s plan yours. Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” his Grandfather said.
“Yes, it’s time. Let’s do that,” Dyami’s father joined in.
Nantan was one of the people who had become successful in the community. He worked as a scientist for the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).
During his formative years, he witnessed many people in his community suffer from diseases related to environmental pollution. It gave him an incentive to study environmental science and choose a career in the field. He believed, as a scientist at EPA, he could effectively address the air and water contamination in his community as elsewhere.
He and his wife, Ekta (Unity), raised Dyami and Chenoa following traditional customs by organizing their life around nature and Apache tradition. At the same time, they were mindful of the changing time and the challenges awaiting two children outside the reservation.
They tried to give them the most current and relevant education to live competently in contemporary society. Nantan believed higher education would help the two overcome difficulties lying ahead as it had for him.
Dyami nodded his head in agreement and returned to the kitchen.
“I am so proud of you,” his mother said, having heard their discussion about his vision quest.
“Are you ready?” Chenoa joined in recalling her coming of age ceremony not too long ago.
“I went through the sunrise ceremony. It couldn’t be more difficult than that!” Chenoa boasted.
According to the Apache custom, she danced for four days to show that she was ready and worthy to become a mature Apache woman.
The ceremony was a re-enactment of the White Painted Woman, a symbolic mythical figure of healing and spirituality. It connected participants with their spiritual heritage.
Chenoa recalled her transcendental vision on the distant seashore during giving and receiving blessings at the end of the ceremony.
On the darkening seashore, a woman danced and sang,
trailing the white gossamer garment on the sandy shore.
A male singer accompanied with a drum and chanting.
The setting sun dyed the seawater in orange and blue.
The dancer was a shaman invoking spirits to heal and comfort people who perished in the sea. A long twisted white gossamer drape lay between the sandy shore and sea, symbolizing a bridge between two worlds: land and sea, living and dead.
The dancing figure on darkening lonely seashore and otherworldly vocal sounds were eerily moving. Chenoa felt connected with the dancing woman and the healing spirit.
Dyami remembered it all well as if it had been his own: he had helped the groundsman erect a teepee, pile up dried pine logs for the bonfire, and build a small arbor for cooking.
He recalled how Chenoa, two years younger than he, endured the most arduous coming of age ritual. Chenoa’s strength and endurance reassured Dyami to go forward with confidence for his vision quest.
The next day, Dyami and his father followed Kuruk into the teepee in the backyard to plan the vision quest. The family kept a teepee to commemorate their ancestral tradition. In it, they talked and planned family and community affairs just as their ancestors had.
They agreed to have the vision quest on Dyami’s 16th birthday, coming in a few days. His Grandfather offered the agave flute, a hand down from his Great-Grandfather, for his vision quest. The flute was a valued item, and it presumably had magical power. It was a great honor to have his Grandfather’s trust.
The following day, they built a sweat lodge with pliant willow saplings near a creek. It was a small domed structure covered with a buffalo hide. Dyami would be sweating out impurities in it to be ready for the vision quest. They also made a fire pit nearby to heat rocks.
The night before, the family gathered in the lodge and prayed to the Great Spirit, Ussen, for spiritual direction.
VISION QUEST
On the morning of the vision quest, Dyami woke up to the cooing of a mourning dove. He lay still, feeling peaceful, but soon the thought of the vision quest came. He rose and went outside.
His Grandfather was waiting in the yard. The morning air was refreshing, and the eastern sky blushed at the rising sun.
“There you are. Did you have a good rest?” Grandfather asked.
“Yes. I slept well.”
“Your father is at the creek heating rocks.”
They walked to the creek in silence. When they arrived, the rocks were ready. Dyami and his father carried them to the lodge and mounted them in the center pit. Sage leaves on the floor diffused a pleasant aroma throughout the sweat lodge.
When his father placed cedar leaves on hot stones, blended scents of sage and cedar soothed and calmed Dyami’s nerve.
His elders performed the smudging ceremony fanning the cedar scented smoke toward him. When his father threw cold water on the heated stones, instantly hot steam arose.
They left Dyami to sweat out impurities and absorb the herbs’ healing properties. Dyami stayed in the hut until he could no longer bear the heat.
When he came out, his father and Grandfather led him to the stream for a cleansing bath. The cold water stimulated and exhilarated him.
“How are you feeling?“ his father asked when he came out of the water.
“Great,” Dyami said, feeling ready for the challenge, the vision quest.
They walked to the old oak, where Dyami would spend three days fasting in prayer and meditation. There was a small brook nearby, and its gentle flow was calming and restful. It was a perfect spot to begin the vision quest.
His father gave him a blanket and a few water bottles, but Dyami knew where he could find the natural mountain water. His Grandfather gave him the agave flute as promised.
“Be attentive to movements and the behavior of animals. They can lead and help you in certain situations. We do not know why and how this happens. We believe it’s the workings of the supernatural, Great Spirit,” Grandfather said as he was leaving.
His Grandfather’s words stayed with Dyami, and he would come to share its truth with Gopan in the coming days.
It was midday when the two men left Dyami. He sat leaning on the oak. He could see blue sky through a small clearing among branches. A squirrel scurried by. Dyami’s thoughts went back to his home and daily events there. It should be lunchtime by now.
The cleansing sweat he had made him hungry, and his mouth watered at the thought of his mother’s delicious bread. He drank the water his father left for
him.
He called to mind the purpose of the vision quest. The unsettling thought of leaving home and facing prejudice and misunderstanding outside the reservation troubled him still more. He heard enough about his people suffering at the hands of white colonizers. He needed reassurance of his heritage.
The image of Apache warriors naturally came to his mind. His grandfather had told him about their bravery and impressive hunting skills. Kuruk described how the wind and the sun rocked and warmed babies hung on tree branches.
Dyami could visualize Geronimo1 and other Apache warriors in their infancy and their legendary bravery and strength forming early on.
It was exciting to imagine his ancestor’s daring courage and their life of freedom lived between the Rocky Mountains and the Mississippi River. He wondered if he could experience the same.
He listened to the rustling leaves and the murmuring stream nearby and let his thoughts float. As his senses and perceptions sharpened, he felt an uncanny kinship with his surroundings. The life of woods seemed to absorb him.
A chorus of birds filled the air. Carried away by the moment, he played the flute and began to drift like pollen in the air.
2
APACHE INDIAN LIFE: TIMES GONE BY
It was a crisp autumn afternoon. Dyami found himself among a group of men, stooping behind a boxwood shrub, keeping eyes on deers grazing bluegrass. As he had wished, he was back in time when his ancestors roamed plains.
The herd continued to nibble, and the men stayed in position. They were waiting for the wind to change its direction.
Their livelihood depended on land and animals: they followed buffalo herds for food and sun for warmth. In the vast prairie’s bountiful nature between the Rocky Mountains and the Mississippi River, they were rich, possessing nothing.
On another occasion, Dyami was among experienced hunters, planning the buffalo hunting. Many animals were on the Apache Indian menu, but their mainstay was buffalo meat, and buffalo hunting was a vital ongoing tribal activity.
They debated the hunting method between “buffalo jump” and “buffalo pound.” The first led buffaloes to a cliff and drove them to jump off it, and the latter corralled the herd to the pound. Considering the terrain, all agreed on “buffalo jump.”
