Ahead, Behind and Both Sides of the Road

Whether I was driving the Turquoise Trail between Santa Fe and Albuquerque, Interstate 25 from Santa Fe to Albuquerque or Colorado, along any dirt road or highway, my view was invariably the same. Ahead and behind and on both sides of the road as far as the eye could see, my view was the same. Admittedly, in some places there were wide open plains. Sometimes it was a mountain pass, canyon or broad desert vista. That was a matter of mere geography that depended upon where my husband and I were.

Wherever I looked were the spirits of people. In narrow places only a few hundred could be seen at any time. Along the broad plains hundreds of thousands at a time stretched as far as the horizon in every direction. Some were dead hundreds of years. Others had barely gone to the Great Spirit. Among them were those who wore black blanket robes with red or white designs. The rest of the spirits wore red blanket robes with black or white designs.

As I drove towards them, they rose. Wave after wave of Native spirits rose. They raised an arm in salutation, then resumed sitting when I had passed. Even when I was far down the highway I could see them. They continued to face the road from either side. We expect the souls of dead persons to vanish when we have seen them, but this was never the case.

One time a friend was in the car with my husband and me on a day trip to Colorado. For our first hour of travel through the Sangre de Cristo range of the Rockies the spirits were on either side of the road. Once we reached Las Vegas, NM, we left the mountains behind for the wide open plains of Eastern New Mexico.

That was when I saw the spirits of the dead as far as the eye could see. The normal human eye sees ranches with cattle and crops.

On the return trip across the plain I was driving my usual ninety to one hundred miles per hour down the interstate. Our friend in the back nervously asked if I wasn’t worried about the state police pulling me over. No, I assured her, we were safe. I don’t think I told her the spirits told me we were safe. I tried to slow down to eighty miles an hour. It wasn’t easy.

Somewhere on that drive our friend and I discussed the beauty of the wide open range. Those breathtaking views that can make a person’s heart leap.

I asked her if she could see the people sitting in the fields as far as the horizon in their red and black blanket robes.

No, she told me, she could not. She asked me why they were there. Why they stood as we came near, greeting us and remained standing until we were well gone. Why they returned to sitting when we were almost out of sight.

Because of him. I nodded towards my husband. Every time we drive any long distance, he falls asleep. It was no different on this long and exhausting trip. He was in dreamland with no idea we were talking about him. In dreamland he was busy speaking with the spirits of his Native American ancestors.

I told our friend that he is the grandson of a Blackfoot princess. The spirits tell me they are here to greet the son of the great kings.

Our friend was shocked. Her eyes, normally so calm behind her glasses, looked ready to pop out of her head. Her jaw dropped.

What can I say?

I was used to it. I had seen it before on drives around the Deep South. Now I saw it in the Southwest. Spirits that had gathered from all across the Americas came out for him. In the last years of his father’s life, I had seen the Native spirits do the same for my father-in-law.

I was perpetually comforted by how peaceful and warm those spirits were. How they had come to those places for this one reason and, once done, waited patiently to be called again. So unlike spirits of other peoples I have experienced in my travels.

So unlike the spirits of any and every Native tribe who did not follow the Great Spirit’s path in their ancestral spiritualities. That is what the spirits tell me it is called. They tell me that my father-in-law and husband were called to the Great Spirit’s path, as they had been long ago.

Life interfered for a time, as it does for us all. At some point, they turned back to the path. They followed their ancestors along the path to the Great Spirit’s hunting ground.

So the spirits tell me.

All of us are called along the path.

Don’t wait to see spirits. Don’t expect to see them. But don’t be surprised the day you do. Many people wait until they’re dying to see their guardian angels, the souls of family and friends. It takes that long for them to be comfortable enough with themselves before they also become comfortable with the rest of our spirited creation.

Aim towards the open road. Be willing to see the spirits of the ancestors.

Move forward with open eyes and an open heart.