Death of a Brujo

Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness,  

Who seek the LORD:  Look to the rock from which you were hewn  

And to the quarry from which you were dug.

“Don’t ever try that again.” The chestnut stallion warned as he looked back at me after I had jumped to safety.

Suddenly I was wide-awake, my heart racing.  In the dream, I had to feed three horses and I was frightened of them.  I steeled myself, not believing that I was afraid of horses, and began walking along the fence line to feed them.  In the adjoining pasture was a bad tempered bull, so I reasoned that if the horses attacked me, I could cross the fence into the bulls pasture, and cross into the horse pasture if the bull charged.

Fortunately, neither came after me at the same time as I walked along the fence line.  My heart was in my mouth as I resolutely pushed myself forward.  Finally, I reached the back fence where a wooden feeding trough sat under a spreading cottonwood tree.

Once again I sternly reminded myself that these were just horses, and that my fear of them was unreasonable, and to just empty the bucket into the trough and go home.  The horses stood alertly a few steps away from the trough, watching me.  I boldly began walking toward the trough, and just before I got close enough to empty the feed pail, they turned in unison to kick me.  I dropped the pail in fright and rolled under the back fence to safety.

That is when the stallion turned his head toward me to warn me.

Shortly after that, chaos descended, and after a month’s long bout of hard drinking, I woke up in Denver.  That was the dividing point in my apprenticeship as a Brujo.  I had failed the test, and fled to the safety of a ragged, but very Anglo community.

Sorcery is a very unforgiving path, and will destroy the unwary.  That is why you cannot learn sorcery from a book.  Without a Brujo to guide you and ward off the phantoms of darkness, you will descend into dementia or better, death.  Doubt me?  Listen to the tales in a psyche ward.

There has always been a warding spirit around me that kept me from harm.  Maybe it is fools who get the stronger spirit.  I had pushed the envelope a little too far this time, however.  I suddenly became aware that the old “street smarts” had vanished, and later discovered that they would never return.  I had eaten the forbidden apple and now I knew good from evil.

I chose the good.  I choose the good today.  I have stepped off the path repeatedly, but my guide no longer protects me as I wander off the path, but ever points me back to the path.  I know the way home, now, but there is no certain safety in the woods.

Still, I wonder.  Had I persisted, what would I be   ….

~ r