Duty to God: Legend of the Sioux Brave

Imagine with me many years past, particularly the years of the great Sioux Nation.


As young Sioux brave came of age, which was only a few years older than many of you, it was custom for a ceremony to take place to honor the passage from boy to manhood. However, before the celebration was to take place the young boys were to give evidence of a stout heart.

It was on dark nights that an aspiring warrior would be guided by his patient father into the living forest. When in isolation the boy’s eyes were covered with cloth. He was left only with the sounds of the night ringing in his ears: the snapping of branches under a bear’s soft paw, the rubbing of antler on a tree, or the wind whispering willows. There he stood alone proving his manhood by removing the veil only after the morning sun was felt on his face.

When at last the warmth rest on his cheeks, the relieved man removes the cover only to discover a loving father who all night was at his side.

Gabriel's Victory

This is an experience I recently had. It reminded me of a short story one of my friends wrote. So yes, Shaun,  I borrowed concepts from your vignette.

The air bites my ear as the cold steel of the enemy comes within inches of a fatal blow. I crouch and place my shield above my head. The enemy’s blade crashes down on my wooden shield as my sword sweeps below the splintered wood seeking to take out his legs. The blade cuts nothing but the light air. Unsuccessful, I release my knees springing forward, my shield still in position; I circle around to his backside, lunging for his arm, our blades meet with an ear-piercing clash. I recoil my arm and lash out again this time targeting his leg. With a thump, my blade meets, now, his shield and sinks deep into the wood. He raises my sword high above my head and I watch the bright steel swoop down from high in the air like a bird of prey approaching a kill. I give a cry of agony when his weapon nearly severs my leg below the knee. My balance, offset I tumble to the ground. I roll onto my back. Quickly following comes, a Crack! Splinters pelt my face and I look up at the enemy from behind the remaining half of my shield. I roll again avoiding another blow. Looking up, I see in the settling dust a glimmer of light. My sword now lies several feet from me. Clumsily, I pull my self towards it. At last grasping it I turn a last time and catch my foes mighty blow inches above my face. With the ring of the clash still resonating in my ears I give a kick with my still whole leg into the abdomen of my opponent. He falls back. Thinking he is unaware I raise my blade to smite his exposed neck. While my weapon moves down in attack an unexpected swing of his sword discontinues my blow. The steel makes no clank, and for a moment I am confused. I then hear a crash, and a plop behind me and I realize my sword is gone and my hand taken from me. The enemy stands. I lay unarmed in his shadow. My eyes remain open as I feel the cold steel slide across my tender neck. The last thing I see is the sky above me. I am dead.


“Hey! Get up! You’re not really dead Uncle Wesley.”

I turn my head towards the insistent five-year-old standing above me in his Boston Red Sox t-shirt.

“It’s not a real sword.” He says. “See, it’s bendy.” And with that he demonstrates the flexibility of his cardboard sword wrapped in duct tape.

“Oh, you’re right.” I reply. “I guess we should start over then.”

“Yeah! He he he.”

Exploration of Short Story Writing

Here is a fun story I wrote which I was exploring the change of tense.

La Cueva

The dim light gives a faint outline to a four-foot stretch of uneven cave floor before him. After venturing for two hours through a cold, damp cave, Adrian walks on in fatigue, undisturbed that the dim light does not match the high oil level in his lamp. The rugged terrain at his feet, once of no notice too his strong legs, is now an endless boulder field that lies before him. His feet fumble on the wet ground, his hands collect filth each time he reaches for the mud-soiled cave walls, and he feels as though he were a marble on the deck of a sailing ship, tossed to and fro. Thoughts dance in his mind as he tries to rationalize his actions. The deeper he goes, the deeper his contempt for that stupid grin.




They had been in Peru for a week participating in study abroad. On the trip was Adrian, his two friends, and unfortunately his stepbrother Corbin. Everyone on the trip was studying Spanish except for Corbin. The only reason he was able to tag along was because their parents have been trying for three years to force a relationship between the two. This was their last desperate attempt. Their mission was to provide a bonding experience. Adrian deemed it a failure from the start.

From day one Corbin had been a nuisance, completely dependant on Adrian and his friends for communication. By day six, Adrian had run out of patience, and did not want the final week’s fun to be wasted babysitting. In disgust Adrian stared at the miserable grin on Corbin’s face.

While riding on the bus their instructor was enlightening them with the rich history of the surrounding Peruvian mountains. Their destination was a small village just a few miles away from sacred Incan caves, in which they planned to take a guided tour on the day following. While Adrian’s teacher warned them not to enter any of the caves alone, for fear of disturbing any on going study, the locals riding the bus, very seriously warned them not to disturb the caves for fear of death. They told of ancient Incan blood spilt deep within the caves to satisfy the Goddess Earth. When white men came, the sacrifices ceased, yet Mother Earth still thirsted for blood; and so it goes that intruders would be made living sacrifices by the spirits. Adrian’s eyes stirred with awful delight when the cave of Luz Muerta was mentioned. “It’ll wipe the smirk right off his face.” He thought. Just then, an old Peruvian man, who seemed to pick up on Adrian’s countenance, warned him in a soft Spanish voice not to enter “La Cueva de Luz Muerta”, the cave of dead light.

“Not even the guides dare enter Senor.” Said the old man.

Before Adrian could respond Corbin loudly interrupted.

“What’d he just say, what’s he saying? Why is he talking to you like that?”

Turning away from the man, Adrian smiled and quickly began to fill Corbin’s mind with the superstitions regarding Luz Muerta, adding much emphasis to the terrible descriptions of the cave.

Within fifteen minutes after arriving in the village Adrian and his friends led Corbin up the narrow, overgrown trail to Luz Muerta. Soon they had persuaded Corbin to enter the cave with nothing but an oil lamp taken from the village. He was frightened, but continued on, not willing to admit his concerns in the midst of his peers. When his footsteps could no longer be heard the three remaining at the mouth of the cave tore off down the hill, away from the darkness.

Back in the village they retired for the night, proud of their cruel accomplishment, fully anticipating the visual image of Corbin cowering in his bed the next day. In the morning, however, they found Corbin’s bed unexpectedly empty. He had not returned during the night.

“Don’t worry”, said his still jovial friend, “everything’s fine. He is just messing with you.”

At hearing this Adrian’s fears were temporarily relieved. Yet, when all that could be found of Corbin was the still warm, unbroken lamp sitting upright on the cold stone floor of the cave, his heart began pumping at overwhelming speeds. “How could Corbin have been stupid enough to keep going?” he thought. Begrudgingly, Adrian lit the lamp and left his somber friends behind in a desperate attempt to find his dim-witted stepbrother, dreading the possibility of having to tell his parents that Corbin had gone missing in Peru.



The light is now noticeably dimmer. Over the course of another two hours Adrian relived each moment that led to this, paying no attention to the nearly empty lamp. The flame flutters as it struggles to stay lit. Superstitions flood his mind. Adrian turns to run knowing the lamp will not stay lit long enough for his escape. With strength in his legs leaving, the darkness of the cave advancing, and the light from his lamp ever fading, he carries on. It’s thick, the darkness, like humid fumes clouding his eyes, filling his nose, drowning his lungs. Blackness pulls from every direction. His eyes cling to the orange coal on the end of the wick, knowing it is the last light he will ever see. Torturous pain seizes his body; it is as though rodents are eating him from the inside out. Darkness tears into him as the cave continues to erase his existence, his body and soul vanishing into the thick blackness. As quickly as the last ember fades away, so does Adrian. The only trace of his existence is the still warm, unbroken lamp sitting up right on the cold stone floor of the cave.



Prerequisite to Graduation: No Regrets

           When graduation comes seniors have mastered the game of high school. They have learned how to survive and get acceptable grades. Yet, grades do not always reflect the intellectual performance of a student. Many times they are a record of how well a student can manipulate the system. So, a message must be passed on to the next crowd of students that will leave high school: find what is really valuable to education and take advantage of it while it is still available.         

Mark Twain once said, “I’ve never let school interfere with my education.” Instead of mastering the “game” of school, seniors must allow their mind’s to be challenged, they must find out how to grow and mature socially, and prepare themselves for the future. Many seniors who have failed to follow these guidelines are soon going to find themselves in the real world, stuck with the secure mentality that existed in high school.

            At Davis High School, Kelly Oram, an Art History teacher challenged his students to quit playing the “game.” Out of all the accomplishments he desired for his students, he most longed for them to have a passion for learning. Grades do not matter. If a student discovers why it is important to collect all of the knowledge he can from this world, then good grades will come as an added bonus. This is an illustration of the in depth learning that takes place in colleges and universities. If a senior who is preparing to graduate has learned how to eat and digest knowledge he will be successful in furthering his education; he will know how to make his mark in the world.

            Often, college provides opportunities for redemption for those who wasted away in high school classrooms, but regret does not flee so easily from those who wasted time in the social realm of education. No opportunities will come to take back a hurtful comment tossed in the face of a fellow student, or to include the previously excluded. There are lessons to be learned when reaching out to the socially awkward, or the neglected. Be the friend to those who have none. Where one stood within the social hierarchy is not something worth putting on a resume. Take risks, what feelings of admiration or sympathy left bridled in high school will always linger, so learn to talk to everyone, befriend everyone, and uplift everyone. Build friendships that will last.

            Now, in regards to the future, thousands of dollars of scholarship money are left unused each year. Every student has the opportunities they desire to advance in their education. However, if they are not proactive in achieving the scholarships they don’t deserve them. Go get the scholarships early, take the ACT early and plan for college early. Many students, because of procrastination, find themselves at the bottom of the waiting list for scholarships. Make goals reality. Starting off college with confusion and stress is like waking up on the wrong side of the bed; it seems as though the whole day is full of misfortune. Be proactive in achieving your success.

            Before graduation learn to succeed in something other than the “game.” High school will never be missed, but it can be regretted. There will be greater times ahead, but take advantage of the opportunities that are not offered in any other place except for high school. The real world will kick in and through struggles true happiness will be found. Yet, there is neither the time nor the means to participate in the activities once offered. When raising a family daily sports or music practice, organized debate, and dramatic productions will come second in priority. So, take advantage of those passions before new passions push the old away.

My Buddies

Me

Dad

Mom

Grandma and Grandpa

"Of Climbing" Adaption Exercise: Based off from Francis Bacon's "Of Studies"

Here is the original by Francis Bacon. I was working to achieve better structure, organization and parallel

syntax in my writing. My adaptation takes a subject I am familar with and inserts it into Bacon's formatted essay.

"Of Studies"

        Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring;[1] for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in judgment. For expert men can execute but learned men are fittest to judge or censure. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules is the humor[2] of a scholar.

            They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience.

            Crafty men[3] condemn them; simple men admire[4] them, and wise men use the m: For they teach not their own use” but that is a wisdom without them[5] and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict; nor to believe and take for granted; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: That is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few are to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Reading maketh a full man; conference[6] a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit,[7] and if he read little , he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty;[8] the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.

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[1] Privacy and leisure

[2] whim/eccentricity

[3] men who work physically at a task

[4] achaic for “marvel at”

[5] separate from them; outside them

[6] conversation

[7] ability to think fast

[8] imaginative

Below is my adaptation of the piece. Have a look; I am open to suggestions.

“Of Climbing”

           

Climbing delivers a challenge, an adrenaline rush, and satisfaction. Its chief use for challenge is in problem solving and strength; for adrenaline rush, is in the fall to the draw[1]; and for satisfaction, is in biner kissing[2]. For professionals can stick it[3] but the novice is best left to use jugs[4] and top ropes[5]. Too spend too much time ascending is persistence; to use it too much for boasting is disrespect; to compare physical power is the downfall of the mentally strong.

            They perfect the technique, and are perfected by the rock.

            Lazy men condemn them; broken[6] men envy them, and mathematicians their equal: For they stand not close to the rock but examine the whole equation; but that is an elevation without them and above them, won by technique. Lead[7] not to gamble; nor to pose and demonstrate bravery; but to build and explore. Some climbs are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: That is, some climbs are to be gazed at; others are to be attempted and completed if needs be; and some few are to be completed studiously and repeated until the point of mastery. Leading maketh a conqueror; top roping a settler; and free soloing[8] a dead man. And therefore if a man free solos, he need fear death; if he top ropes, he need have knowledge of security; and if he leads, he need have much fear of death, enough to wisely protect his life. Mountaineering makes men victorious; mothers cringe; the form artistic; safety priority; nature religious; isolation and solitude able to contend.

---

[1] Draw (quickdraw): two carabineers connected by webbing meant for clipping rope to bolted anchors on a fixed route

[2] Biner Kissing: kissing the carabineers at the top of a climb

[3] Stick it: refers to the act of moving to a new hold and using all your energy to stay at that level

[4] Jugs: large holds that are easy to hang on to

[5] Top Rope: is a climb with the rope already anchored to the top of a route with a belayer at the bottom

[6] Broken: injured, disabled

[7] Lead: lead climbing is climbing with the rope and clipping the rope to bolts with quickdraws as you go

[8] Free soloing: climbing without any gear or protection

From This to That

My Sketch prior to my completed composition below

More Work

Camera in North Fork


Sunglasses Reflecting Sunset on Fox Creek Pass

Samples of recent Art Work

Pre Completion Backpack


A Reward After 8 Miles

The Opportunities of Challenge

Oh the Places You'll Go Writing Contest

Education is my mountain. I must focus my attention to the giant that towers above me and move it piece by piece. I will Move it, and then rebuild it behind me, to be a monument of my accomplishment. I will face obstacles, but with open arms. For challenges come paired with opportunity. This mount will be one of isolation and time management.

As adulthood approaches, time begins to race like a runner breaking into a sprint just before the finish. As I talk to my friends it seems soon they will no longer be at my side. They too, are off on their own adventures. Watching them go is an unwelcomed change. Past experiences bonded me with those that I love. I’m most fortunate to have them. It is they who told me of the opportunity I now have to find new friends whose paths are parallel to mine, and prove myself independent.

During my efforts the temptation will come to be like a drooping flower waiting for a storm to bring the rain. Unlike the flower however, I cannot sit and wait for things to happen. The waiting room is not for me. Decisions don’t get made, papers don’t get written or projects completed by waiting for the opportune moment. I have to make those moments come to me. My energy may lack and I may slow down, but stopping is waiting, and waiting I won’t. Not while the opportunity to go and do is mine.

I will demonstrate what is important to me by the work that I do and the actions I take. With the help of my friends assuredly I’ll move this great mount, but in the times when I’m without I will carry on in my quest. Time waits for no one, it has been proven true, but in moving my mountain I can find opportunities too.

Dear Yellowstone

Dear Yellowstone,

I write to you on matters concerning the recent decision by the Concession Management Division of Yellowstone National Park to limit the use of the park by units coming out of Camp Loll, a Boy Scout Camp of the Trapper Trails Counsel. These matters have an important impact on me because the decision affects my place of summer employment. The area where Camp Loll is located is a place that I consider home, not just a seasonal place of employment. I take great pride in that part of the wilderness. Along with the camp, the trails and areas that venture into Yellowstone National Park also hold a special place in my heart. I consider them home and take great pride in protecting and preserving those treasures for future generations. That is a wonderful gift that you and the other national park services give to all Americans. You provide us with access to the great treasures of the world. Everyone in the United States should be able to consider it home.

Camp Loll and Yellowstone have always worked together and cooperated with each other. The park is an important element in the program that we run. We use the park to demonstrate the proper procedure to follow in the backcountry and we also show the scouts the beauties that we are trying to protect. We instill in them a pride for their nation’s treasures. The park takes part in the proper growth and development of the future leaders of the country. We need Yellowstone. Likewise, the park has a need for us. Our presence within the park has had positive influence on the environment. Our staff members and scouts have not only fought to reduce impact from our own use but we help take care of the messes left behind from other visitors. It is my hope that we can continue this mutual symbiosis.

The young people of this nation have a right to enjoy the beauties of Yellowstone’s wilderness. By experiencing the wild through exercising these rights they will develop a sense of duty and responsibility to protect what belongs to them. I have witnessed the even greater beauty of a young man’s face as he first lays his eyes upon the magnificent Union Falls in Yellowstone. That transformation is not merely a facial change; it is a change of heart and attitude towards the treasures of the wild. Please help us take the steps to regain our partnership with Yellowstone National Park. For any questions call me, or reply to the address above. 801-792-2411

Sincerely,

Wesley Mathis