The Clay Pot
From James Donahue’s Journal
As the strange silent war on a spiritual level intensified, we were living an odd double life. In our physical bodies, we were having a friendly and cheerful relationship with the Begays. Yet on the dark side, the warfare was intensifying. Doris was making constant checks of the energy in our room, the house and grounds around us. With the help of some of the occult books we acquired before leaving Michigan, Doris began experimenting with her own "magick," drawing invisible circles and pentagrams, and doing incantations designed to guard our room and keep harmful energies away. It was one of the strangest times of our lives. Here we were, a man and woman who only two or three years earlier were deeply involved in fundamental Christianity, now learning how to work spells and call on the forces of nature to protect us from black witchcraft. What we were doing was learning how to combat this force by becoming witches ourselves. Nothing comes to us by chance. Looking back on that winter, I now understand that it was a time of teaching. We were being tested to the maximum. We were forced to shed our old belief system and jump headlong into the real world. It was a major test. If we had fallen victims to the attacks I believe we would probably have been killed.
One day Doris said she was tired of our entrapment and was going to do something about it. In spite of my pleadings, she decided to make a trip alone, across the reservation, to Holbrook. She said she needed to call Aaron and had to go alone, even if the trip was long, the many twists and turns in the road confusing to learn. Also we both knew it was a journey fraught with danger. I always traveled with the fifty-caliber handgun at my side after a band of men in a pickup tried to run me off the road. I later learned they were well known bandits who enjoyed holding up white strangers traveling on the reservation. Doris insisted that she could make the trip on her own and that I needed to remain behind and guard our belongings. Thus she left me alone in that house for a day.
It was a long and anxious time. I spent much of it putting the finishing touches on the novel I was writing. I took a walk. Prepared a meal and washed the dishes. I recall walking out in the road, standing quietly, listening for the sound of the car returning. Finally, at long last, Doris returned. She said Aaron was going to come and help us move off the reservation. It seemed that a heavy weight was suddenly lifted from our shoulders.
Aaron and Gail lived in a fine house at the top of a mountain in El Cereto, California. From their window they could look out over the trees and enjoy the waters of San Francisco Bay. It was luxury living. Gail's family was well-to-do and they had been given the house by her grandmother as a wedding gift.
During his stint with the Navy, Aaron received advanced training as a corpsman and also got involved in some other training that he never talks about. He came home a black belt in what I suspect are two or three different forms of karate and hand-to-hand combat. He was the head corpsman in the trauma ward in the U. S. Veteran's Hospital in Long Beach, California, at the time of his discharge. At the urging of his commanding officer, he entered college and began studying to be a doctor. During this time he worked as a nurse in a hospital in the San Francisco area. That is where he met Gail.
While we were battling with spiritual forces on the Navajo reservation, Aaron said he was involved in a new phase of his life. He was developing mentally, discovering his spiritual powers, reading Crowley and especially studying the Book of the Law. He said he also was involved in secret occult societies including the Masonic order and the O.T.O. It was sometime during this period of his life that Aaron took a vow of poverty, quit his job, dropped out of college, and began devoting all of his time in research, not only in occult matters, but chemistry, physics and numerology. He said he discovered that he could absorb all of the information a book had for him by speed reading through its pages. Later, he could simply sleep with the book by his head, or under his pillow, and absorb the information it had to offer. His right brain was opening wide. He learned how to open his third eye. He spent as much time out of his body as he did in it. At least this was how he presented himself to us.
Because they only had one car and Gail was using it to go to her job as a hospital nurse, Aaron went to his friend, Joseph Nameth. Joe agreed to take a week off from his job and drive Aaron on a rescue mission into the wilds of the Navajo reservation in Arizona. Even though when I called I gave Aaron specific directions, explaining landmarks and the turns he needed to make to find us, Aaron got lost. This was typical for Aaron. He never had a good sense of direction. He and Joe spent two days searching the reservation, but they could not find us. They found the natives to be hostile. One man pointed a shotgun at them when they stopped to ask directions.
Prior to making this trip, Aaron said he was sensing a call from the Indians. He said he often heard the beating of their drums and was feeling their pain. He especially felt drawn to the Hopi. By the time the trip was over, he realized the tribes of the southwest were a ruined people. They had fallen prey to drugs, alcohol and materialism. They were no longer protectors of the Earth. Aaron said all of this made him angry.
As explained earlier, the Hopi Reservation is located about ten miles away from where we were living and is surrounded by the Navajo Reservation. During their wanderings, Aaron and Joseph obviously crossed reservation lines several times. Just before giving up, Aaron asked Joe to stop his truck at the base of a tall rugged looking mesa. The two both enjoyed rock climbing. They decided to scale the mesa before heading back to California. When they reached the top of the rock formation, they came upon the ruins of an ancient Anasazi community. The Anasazi, an old name for the ancient civilization that once occupied the area, are believed to be direct ancestors of the Hopi and descendants of the Aztecs. Unlike the Hopi, however, who today are confined to a small area of land within the vast Navajo empire, the Anasazi once occupied the entire territory. Their ruins lie everywhere in Northeast Arizona, spilling over into the three adjoining states.
While exploring the ruins on this particular mesa, Aaron came upon an ancient clay pot that he said was in perfect condition. This would have been a rare find anywhere in the area. The pot would have been a valuable treasure to be shown in any museum. In fact, laws are on the books in Arizona making it a crime for visitors to pick up a piece of clay works, or a chard, and remove it from its site. Aaron said he looked at this pot. He said the anger of what the people in the area had become boiled up in him. While Joseph looked on in disbelief, Aaron picked up the pot, raised it high over his head, and smashed it.
There is an ancient Hopi prophecy that a lost white brother, or pahana, will return in the last days, before the end of the fourth world, and give the people instruction on what to do. "When the white brother returns, he will see if we have adhered to the way of life and have been faithful to the religious beliefs. If we have not, then he will strike an earthen pot. And the elders will say, 'No, that is too harsh!'" the legend says.
From James Donahue’s Journal
As the strange silent war on a spiritual level intensified, we were living an odd double life. In our physical bodies, we were having a friendly and cheerful relationship with the Begays. Yet on the dark side, the warfare was intensifying. Doris was making constant checks of the energy in our room, the house and grounds around us. With the help of some of the occult books we acquired before leaving Michigan, Doris began experimenting with her own "magick," drawing invisible circles and pentagrams, and doing incantations designed to guard our room and keep harmful energies away. It was one of the strangest times of our lives. Here we were, a man and woman who only two or three years earlier were deeply involved in fundamental Christianity, now learning how to work spells and call on the forces of nature to protect us from black witchcraft. What we were doing was learning how to combat this force by becoming witches ourselves. Nothing comes to us by chance. Looking back on that winter, I now understand that it was a time of teaching. We were being tested to the maximum. We were forced to shed our old belief system and jump headlong into the real world. It was a major test. If we had fallen victims to the attacks I believe we would probably have been killed.
One day Doris said she was tired of our entrapment and was going to do something about it. In spite of my pleadings, she decided to make a trip alone, across the reservation, to Holbrook. She said she needed to call Aaron and had to go alone, even if the trip was long, the many twists and turns in the road confusing to learn. Also we both knew it was a journey fraught with danger. I always traveled with the fifty-caliber handgun at my side after a band of men in a pickup tried to run me off the road. I later learned they were well known bandits who enjoyed holding up white strangers traveling on the reservation. Doris insisted that she could make the trip on her own and that I needed to remain behind and guard our belongings. Thus she left me alone in that house for a day.
It was a long and anxious time. I spent much of it putting the finishing touches on the novel I was writing. I took a walk. Prepared a meal and washed the dishes. I recall walking out in the road, standing quietly, listening for the sound of the car returning. Finally, at long last, Doris returned. She said Aaron was going to come and help us move off the reservation. It seemed that a heavy weight was suddenly lifted from our shoulders.
Aaron and Gail lived in a fine house at the top of a mountain in El Cereto, California. From their window they could look out over the trees and enjoy the waters of San Francisco Bay. It was luxury living. Gail's family was well-to-do and they had been given the house by her grandmother as a wedding gift.
During his stint with the Navy, Aaron received advanced training as a corpsman and also got involved in some other training that he never talks about. He came home a black belt in what I suspect are two or three different forms of karate and hand-to-hand combat. He was the head corpsman in the trauma ward in the U. S. Veteran's Hospital in Long Beach, California, at the time of his discharge. At the urging of his commanding officer, he entered college and began studying to be a doctor. During this time he worked as a nurse in a hospital in the San Francisco area. That is where he met Gail.
While we were battling with spiritual forces on the Navajo reservation, Aaron said he was involved in a new phase of his life. He was developing mentally, discovering his spiritual powers, reading Crowley and especially studying the Book of the Law. He said he also was involved in secret occult societies including the Masonic order and the O.T.O. It was sometime during this period of his life that Aaron took a vow of poverty, quit his job, dropped out of college, and began devoting all of his time in research, not only in occult matters, but chemistry, physics and numerology. He said he discovered that he could absorb all of the information a book had for him by speed reading through its pages. Later, he could simply sleep with the book by his head, or under his pillow, and absorb the information it had to offer. His right brain was opening wide. He learned how to open his third eye. He spent as much time out of his body as he did in it. At least this was how he presented himself to us.
Because they only had one car and Gail was using it to go to her job as a hospital nurse, Aaron went to his friend, Joseph Nameth. Joe agreed to take a week off from his job and drive Aaron on a rescue mission into the wilds of the Navajo reservation in Arizona. Even though when I called I gave Aaron specific directions, explaining landmarks and the turns he needed to make to find us, Aaron got lost. This was typical for Aaron. He never had a good sense of direction. He and Joe spent two days searching the reservation, but they could not find us. They found the natives to be hostile. One man pointed a shotgun at them when they stopped to ask directions.
Prior to making this trip, Aaron said he was sensing a call from the Indians. He said he often heard the beating of their drums and was feeling their pain. He especially felt drawn to the Hopi. By the time the trip was over, he realized the tribes of the southwest were a ruined people. They had fallen prey to drugs, alcohol and materialism. They were no longer protectors of the Earth. Aaron said all of this made him angry.
As explained earlier, the Hopi Reservation is located about ten miles away from where we were living and is surrounded by the Navajo Reservation. During their wanderings, Aaron and Joseph obviously crossed reservation lines several times. Just before giving up, Aaron asked Joe to stop his truck at the base of a tall rugged looking mesa. The two both enjoyed rock climbing. They decided to scale the mesa before heading back to California. When they reached the top of the rock formation, they came upon the ruins of an ancient Anasazi community. The Anasazi, an old name for the ancient civilization that once occupied the area, are believed to be direct ancestors of the Hopi and descendants of the Aztecs. Unlike the Hopi, however, who today are confined to a small area of land within the vast Navajo empire, the Anasazi once occupied the entire territory. Their ruins lie everywhere in Northeast Arizona, spilling over into the three adjoining states.
While exploring the ruins on this particular mesa, Aaron came upon an ancient clay pot that he said was in perfect condition. This would have been a rare find anywhere in the area. The pot would have been a valuable treasure to be shown in any museum. In fact, laws are on the books in Arizona making it a crime for visitors to pick up a piece of clay works, or a chard, and remove it from its site. Aaron said he looked at this pot. He said the anger of what the people in the area had become boiled up in him. While Joseph looked on in disbelief, Aaron picked up the pot, raised it high over his head, and smashed it.
There is an ancient Hopi prophecy that a lost white brother, or pahana, will return in the last days, before the end of the fourth world, and give the people instruction on what to do. "When the white brother returns, he will see if we have adhered to the way of life and have been faithful to the religious beliefs. If we have not, then he will strike an earthen pot. And the elders will say, 'No, that is too harsh!'" the legend says.