I watched “The Blind Side” at the movie theater tonight. Just down the road. The film is about a young, black man in high school named Big Mike. Tall and enormous, the character is based off of a true story about Michael Oher, who became a 2009 champion college football player with incredible prospects for an NFL position. Big Mike is from the projects of Memphis, Tennessee, where he was taken at age 7 from his mother, who was a lifelong crack addict with numerous illegitimate children in foster care or out on the streets. Mike, having nowhere to live, was taken in by a white, all-American, go-getter family after being enrolled at a private prep school. The family introduces him to football, embraces him, and eventually legally adopts him as kin. The story evokes emotion by witnessing the transformation that occurs when one receives support, encouragement, and invested interest from family or those who show unconditional love. At the end of the film, they show the real Michael Oher and his family, bringing the story to a close that moves it into a place of greater reality.
The story reminded me of the young Navajo man named Chris, whom I met on the res in Kayenta Arizona. He has a demon by his side. I could feel that shadow nearby. Rolland’s niece had a baby. At three months, Rolland found this child in her home, alone, swimming in his own urine and feces, starving to death, crying, while the mother lay drinking in the next room, flirting with a gang of men. When Rolland declared he was going to take the baby from her, she responded, happy to relinquish responsibility, “You want him? Here, have him.” Taken to the hospital, doctors said he would not have survived the night. This baby is Chris, now 23 years old, who grew up feeling unwanted, ashamed, angry and sad. He became a troublesome kid, drinking excessively, rebelling authority, and became heavily involved in drugs. He moved to Las Vegas, Nevada after high school, worked as a bouncer, and attended culinary school. Now he has moved to Grand Junction, Colorado and works in a diner. He no longer uses drugs and drinks more moderately. As he arrived for an unexpected, one day, Thanksgiving visit, Rolland, staring at the television, lights up when Chris walks in. Chris told me he was a really bad kid and was kicked out of the house at age 16, where he crashed at various friends houses for the next two years. He has not been home to see his family in over a year. The night he arrived, I sat with him by the fire. I was messing around on guitar. I did not care whether he liked me or not. I was busy with guitar. But he came over to me, and I was very kind with him. He began to open up and tell me his feelings. I listened and watched the fire. He showed me respect and a wounded spirit.
The next day Chris came with me to Monument Valley. I felt his need for healing and he was asking for it. People just need love and guidance. To feel good about themselves. To forgive. And choose to part from the demons they have created and allowed to win their minds. I babied Chris, reminded him of how far he has come. He said he doesn’t like coming home because they all tell stories about all the bad things he did. I told him that he has been away and is different now. As he agreed, I continued, that they cannot keep you in a box if you don’t put yourself in it. Don’t worry about them. Sometimes you have to be the bigger man and not to take them so seriously. Then by being so mature about it, they will see how you have changed. Tell them it hurts your feelings. Communicate. He is afraid to relate to his Dad, Rolland, because Chris thinks he is going to say the wrong thing and create conflict. Without the need to rebel, Chris is just like a young damaged child, feeling abandoned and afraid. I explained how much Rolland loves him. It was if he never heard it before. I told him how Lita said, “Oh, Chris has always been Rolland’s favorite. He raised him since he was a baby.” Chris was surprised to hear this. I mustered all the motivation I had in my bones and told Chris about all the unlimited possibilities that he has. He can make anything happen with the clarity of true passion and inspiration behind him. I suggested he begin thinking of ways to help other troubled Navajo kids, empathizing through the personal struggles he overcame. I urged him to have a heart to heart with Rolland and Lita, and not to be afraid to share his true feelings. I helped him begin to express what he felt, which I transposed for him. He is sorry for causing so much heart-ache growing up, and that he really cares about them. Wants to make them proud of him. We sat for a long time up on the canyon, holding ourselves up on the steep slope. I taught him how Mother Nature is always caring for us, that we can give all ourselves to her. We arose, walked and talked some more about family issues and life path inspiration. I pointed out a big black bird above flying with an alkl white bird about the same size. They flew together vey close for quite some time and then parted ways. The black one flew West, the white one - East.
The Back and White birds high above, flying together.
Then I felt the wind needing a new direction and said to him, “Hey!! Lets cook dinner for Rolland, Lita and the family! We can invite everybody!” I could feel him begin to feel some creativity, gratitude and the desire to share his gifts with his loved ones. It was a plan. He stuck right by me all afternoon. On the way home, he showed me a beautiful necklace that Rolland had just given him. I gently made him put it on, and he seemed honored. Just before he left that night, I gave him two big hugs and told him he is doing so good. To keep doing good. He held me like a young boy needing his mama. So I treated him that way and he has begun to heal. I handed him a rock from Monument Valley, closed his hand around it. I said, “Don’t forget what we talked about up there, ok?” Rolland watched. He felt loved. Rolland and I sat alone in silence. He with the tv, me with the fire. He reflected aloud that he forgot to ask Chris to call him when he got in. Later, into the night Chris texted me that he made it safe in case I was wondering. And he wished me well on my travels. Just like a small child, I felt him looking up to me. So I texted back and asked him if he might call Rolland and tell him he is safe. The next morning, Rolland announces with pride that Chris called and got home safe. I smiled and prayed with every fiber of myself that their relationship would mature and become beautiful.
So I sit and think about all the children who feel rejected and uncared for. I think about all the grown men and women still aching like a young boy and girl. I think about the power that one person with inspiration has, and like a fire keeper, can light a match that moves between the hearts of the people. One carrier alights the next until the creativity builds and the box of suppression that not only one man, but the entire Dine Nation feel as a rigid, projected memory of defeat. Chris changed my life. He brought tears to my eyes. He made me realize that I may have changed his life too. I remember how easy it was to love him, share with him, teach him, empower him, guide him. I don’t understand why we don’t all bring some of our fire to the Dine Nation and let them teach us about heart. I think about all the men and women of the world who have forgotten how to find inspiration. I leave the reservation, and I leave the weight, crushing my dreams, behind. But as I emerge, with the greatest sincerity, I will be back, and next time with a bonfire along with me.
