Except from Soul of the Mountain, by Leah Chyten
Except from Soul of the Mountain, by Leah Chyten
Leah Chyten has been a philosopher since youth. Before attending college, she homesteaded in Maine, where she raised animals, vegetables, and children, and compiled a collection of songs, poetry, short stories and a novel. Her second novel was inspired by the painful complexities of the state of Israel. She is a psychotherapist, workshop leader, and spiritual teacher. She facilitates groups that explore all facets of our human experience. Leah currently lives in Portland Maine, and is continually inspired by the ocean.
Her new book, The Soul of the Mountain, tells a tale of a profound journey. Meet Luce, a spunky Manhattan lawyer, her bestie, Suzanne Whitaker, Roy Rogers, the elusive Harley riding Native cowboy, White Owl Hooter, Raven, the Sojan peoples from Middle Earth, an encoded gold nugget, the soul of a sacred mountain in South Dakota, Forest Dwellers, Kris from the Pleiades, Kent and Red, and numerous unusual wisdom keepers. Embedded within the story is the egregious history of Native Americans after their land was stolen, their way of life nearly destroyed. People whose wisdom is now sought because we must radically shift our relationship to our only home, planet earth.
EXCERPT
“I know a woman who wants to meet you, one of my teachers, and a true friend. I’ve known her since I was a boy. Even back then she insisted she was old.”
“How old is she?”
Roy shrugs “She calls herself a bag of bones and loose skin waiting for the right time to cross over.”
“What’s her name?”
“White Owl Hooter. The Hooter part was a coincidence. She shacked up with a British- French- Canadian lad whose last name was Hooter. He didn’t stick around long, but he left his name and a few half-breeds.”
“That’s hysterical. One thing I notice is people here love to laugh.”
“Laughter is good medicine.” Roy hits the brakes and points out the window.
“A coyote just crossed our path. White Owl must have sent him. That little trickster!”
“Are you serious?”
“Serious about what? We just agreed on laughter being good medicine.”
“You don’t mean that White Owl literally directed a coyote to cross our path.”
“I totally mean it.”
“But how?”
“How do you send an email across any distance?”
“Maybe electromagnetic frequency waves?”
“Then why would it surprise you that shamans and healers all over the world tap into those same energetic fields?”
I answer with a shrug.
“Because you see Indigenous people as primitive and incapable of such sophisticated knowledge.”
“I shamefully confess.”
“We knew a lot more than white colonialists understood. We’ve lived for many thousands of years in harmony with the earth, with the sky people, and for the most part, not counting the usual male need to compete with other males, we got along with each other. We still had problems, but our knowledge was far greater than so-called civilized people will accept. I’ve seen shamans make Houdini look like an amateur, some who can change weather, calm a wild animal, send dark spirits back to you-know-where, or cure diseases that white medicine can’t touch. I’ve even witnessed a shaman bring a man back from death, like Jesus, but without the fanfare.“
“You’ve tweaked my interest.”
“More later, but now, hold the grab bar.” Roy cuts a sharp right turn into a field of waist-high grasses. “Not much further.”
“This is a remote place for an elderly woman to live. How does she get supplies?”
“How does anybody get supplies these days? Amazon Prime!”
“You’re joking, right?”
Roy bursts into laughter. “Want to see my badge?”
The truck comes to a halt, sputtering and complaining before Roy kills the ignition. Directly in front of us is a shack trying hard not to collapse. White Owl Hooter appears at the door, waving us inside. She resembles a stick figure with tiny toothpick arms and a bulging belly. She turns to Roy.
“Did you remember milk and corn flakes?”
“Oh geez, slipped my mind.”
“Too bad. I almost made your favorite corn pudding, but it slipped my mind.”
“Just kidding. Course I remembered.”
White Owl waves to me. “Come on in, girl. We got some talking to do.”
The doorway is so low I barely miss hitting my forehead. The scent of sage calls up pleasant memories of Jeffrey back in another life. White Owl pumps a kerosene stove, and the flame whooshes and settles down. She siphons water from a five-gallon container into a saucepan. Roy returns, holding a large red plastic cooler.
“This should hold you for a while. If you need anything give a shout.”
“Don’t need to, Roy. You always know when I need restocking. How do you always show up at the right time to lend a hand?”
“My soft spot for damsels in distress.”
White Owl laughs so hard I’m afraid she’ll have a stroke. “Never been called a damsel before, especially not one in distress.”
“Always a first time, Grandma.”
White Owl turns her gaze toward me. “So, Luce from Manhattan, what brings you way out here?”
Forget small talk. White Owl is diving right in. I follow her lead. “I need to return something accidentally left with me.”
“I thought only the US Mail Service and Police deliver things by accident.”
I shake my head. “You must know Violet?”
“Violet’s no fool. If she delivered you something, it was no accident.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“We don’t ask for most of what life delivers us.”
“True,” I mumble, my face reddening. But I’m here to return the gold nugget she left with me, claiming I was its rightful owner.”
“Owner? Violet would never use that word. What exactly did she say?”
“Right, she said it belongs with me.”
White Owl nods. “Hard for white people to understand. They like to possess things.”
“Why me, White Owl? She came a long way to leave it with me.”
“Maybe she had no choice.” She nods to Roy who sweeps in and delivers a lighted cigarette. “Looks like Raven finally got your attention.”
“Can’t ignore endless, sleepless nights.”
White Owl studies the cigarette, held between thumb and forefinger. “Maybe life is ready to change on you.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy Suze came with me, and this adventure may result in a community college for the rez, but I sure don’t want change imposed on me.”
White Owl puffs hard on the cigarette and exhales directly into my face. Fury wells up at her blatant rudeness.
“What the hell?”
“Cleans out your cobwebs, but you assumed I was being rude. Easy to misunderstand the meaning of things.”
SOUL OF THE MOUNTAIN
“If it weren’t for the pipe, I might have thought it a dream. But whenever I hold the pipe, it all comes back to me, and I know that everything we experienced was real and happened the way we remember. We who were inside the mountain, choose not to speak of it aloud, simply because it is too sacred to share, even with loved ones. Who can truly understand until one has traveled to the unseen worlds, so close and yet invisible to those without sight?”
It began as a vision: a young boy on horseback galloping freely across the prairie, long, black hair unbound. Looking directly at me, he winks, a sign that his story will follow. What unfolded is a profound journey, a story shared now with you. Meet Luce, a spunky Manhattan lawyer, her bestie, Suzanne Whitaker, Roy Rogers, the elusive Harley riding Native cowboy, White Owl Hooter, Raven, the Sojan peoples from Middle Earth, an encoded gold nugget, the soul of a sacred mountain in South Dakota, Forest Dwellers, Kris from the Pleiades, Kent and Red, and numerous unusual wisdom keepers.
Embedded within the story is the egregious history of Native Americans after their land was stolen, their way of life nearly destroyed. People whose wisdom is now sought because we must radically shift our relationship to our only home, planet earth.
BUY HERE
For more information, please visit: https://leahchytenauthor.com./
Category: On Writing
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