Karuk Journey In

Bud Johnson the tribal chairman. We greeted nervously, smiles a little phony.

Ron Reed, fishing guide, seven children, performs tribe’s sacred ceremony.

We got in the RV in a little rain, headed out slowly, Bud sat in the co-pilot chair.

Bud never seeing his river from this height and I on my first trip could just stare.

Rain started falling on the windshield, cleaning it better then any Windex.

We looked out over new spring greens colors in a moistened green complex.

The moss glistened, mica sparkled shredded black slate in splendorous tout.

On we moved, first tourist RV to travel this section of a California’s scenic route.

No traffic, so moved slowly, spending more time on each soul filling scene.

Around a curve, more beauty, splendor of this revealing land in a flowing dream.

This land of many rivers, crystal sparkles and hues of white/blue, white/blue…

To the Klamath, feed streams, feathering, slithering, sauntering, down they flew.

On we went, God spit on the rock, to glisten it, to bring out the true color.

Bud looking, telling stories, showing old homestead, old school up a holler.

Sacred hilltops pointing, sharing wisdom’s memories, recalling nostalgic places.

Looking at green mountains with wisp clouds drifting, displaying ancient faces.

Snow in the top of far hills against fad green, my eyes seeing green brighten.

Far mountain transcends into layered views of hills, to the river my eyes hasten.

Around curve we came upon the Center of the Universe’s quietly distilled feeling.

Contrasted with the curling furry, narrow spewed torrent water, exalting, reeling.

Thrusting by the injuries of man and time, which ferments this wondrous place.

Giving emotional thrusts of power and energy as blue, green, white, waters race.

It stilled my soul, as I first looked at this sight, feeling a terribly angry place.

A story unfolded of murder, death, merciless hatred, injuring a most holy space.

Tears came to my eyes and sorrow so deep as I felt a profound sense of grief.

Sorrow filled my being, glimpsed death’s blood flowing on the river so brief.

I asked from my heart,

One word, no more,

Forgive?.?.?

How could the death I felt,

The deep, deep sorrow I felt,

Forgive?.?.?

Water in my eyes glistened,

I felt a little different then,

The pressure lessened.

Your OK, I heard a voice,

And this can never be forgone,

Never be man’s choice.

Intelligent beings felled,

Gives such power of negative,

And not easily dispelled.

We shared love, we moved on, thanking Ron for sharing in his heart’s eloquence.

Sharing of deep feeling giving from our hearts and releasing in calm consequence.

Maybe, maybe, I listened, felt, maybe for just a instant, I knew a little sharing.

When soul shares, all men’s spirits are one, each knows how the other is faring.

In those moments, feeling are one. In that moment forgive is not what is needed.

Just being one, just knowing oneness, just allowing the start of healing heeded.

Healing the Center of the Earth has one more new, very minute little seed.

Maybe. I’ll have faith this small seed will start, grow and upon happiness feed.

A secure foundation will grow with others contributing their own loving seeds.

For a life’s moment Ron, Teri and I hugged and satisfied our spiritual needs.

On we went, nature showing more left and right scenes, with dog trees blooming.

Riding on Caltran’s magic black carpet, we’re surrounded by nature’s grooming.

Bud, now comfortably relaxed, continues light and friendly banter like a champ.

Keeping us informed and entertained to the Karuk Center door in Happy Camp.

Roland James April 2, 2001