Miffs No More @ Hopi Lodge- by Jah-Ví Da P. aka "SJS", ©2019
I'm going to the Hopi medicine man to be cured of my life dysfunction... "You seem like the type who would miff a golden opportunity," he said. "Well, that is why I'm here baba, what do you think?," I said. "Are you African American?", he asked. "No, I am FBA-Indigenous Freedmen" I replied, "I'm of the men of my broken and desecrated tribe who should yet reproduce the finest people in the world..." "Hmmm..." the weathered herbalist had seen dust devils for days, no stranger to redirecting a sun demon's energy. He rubbed his reddish Sedona clay toned chin of sweat, then threw porcupine grease on the fire. "I can fish a part of your heart out the well of vanity, and douse it with flames of renew and vigor." Will it burn in me now, like a river of Phoenix? "The Southwest sun shines down, smiles and frowns... then brutalizes All, no matter what color or race of man. Ye shall be gold, platinum and bejeweled of heart. The feet of the Most Ancient Wakanda and holiest must rest upon your burnished bronze breastplate. In other words, (he paused to scatter some earth & spice medicine over my future, symbolically sprinkling a mix of dirt, brown sugar, cinnamon, mace and ginger powder to each of the 4 directional winds)... "In other words You must submit to a master, to become a master-healer".... I exited the wick sweat lodge in the desert, feeling a little queasy from the Peyote tea we drank earlier, yet a bit refreshed by the outback's baking afternoon air. A wash basin to clean off puke, a bowl of blueberries, strawberry fig newtons, Dr. Sebi Alkaline Water and an orange mango Body Armor drink were on a table set for my recovery. There had been a 12 hour food fast as well, since I wanted the smoke to banish bad luck from me, chiefly. Looking down at my vomit-cleaned palms, my left hand spoke back magic up to me and said: "Beware of thy neighbor"... My right hand championed peace, proclaiming by waving at my face wildly: "We're all in this together!"
