When a man who identifies himself as Wind Song takes you on a journey to see hills, trees and water in Kingsland, you’re bound to come back with a story. The two arrowheads, feather and large obsidian block all hold special significance to the man who shared his perspective on the world with me. Staff photo by Jared Fields
KINGSLAND — We spent most of the day traveling to places literally high and low in Kingsland, and my story lacked any sort of focus.
I asked my new friend on the way back to The Picayune office what you — the reader — should take away from anything I might write.
“I just want people to get outside,” said Wind Song, who asked to be identified by his tribal name.
He grew up in San Saba County and lived and worked in the Highland Lakes for a long time. Recently, he’s been living in Port Aransas, fishing and loving life.
So before you read on, know the point of this is for you to consider taking a break from watching TV and going outside to experience nature.
But the theme of this story doesn’t make sense unless we start at the beginning and you take the same journey I did.
I pulled up to work one morning with my coffee thermos and camera bag. In the parking lot, Wind Song was standing next to his Suburban in just swim shorts. He talked about a story idea he had for us. We chatted for awhile and agreed he would return in an hour to take me out and show me a few places. I was under the impression we’d go arrowhead hunting. Or perhaps, he’d show me some techniques Native Americans used when selecting and making their hunting tools.
Boy, was I wrong.
We journeyed toward Kingsland and talked about our backgrounds, chit-chatting as we got to know a little about each other.
Wind Song turned north on RR 2342 and then east on Park Road 4 up the hill to a rest stop. He told me he left a few things from the night before when he was camping there.
On the road up the hill, a gray fox was lying dead in the middle of the road. He pulled over and waved a vehicle behind us to go by.
“Nothing happens by accident,” he said.
Nothing should go to waste.
Wind Song grabbed the carcass and brought it back to his Suburban. Something had eaten the organs, but the fox would make a good pelt, he said.
With the fox, we pulled into the roadside park on top of the hill. We got out, and he asked me to take off my shoes and socks to feel the earth. At that elevation, and with that view, he explained the location had historical significance. Before European settlers arrived, important people lived at a place like that. Through my bare feet, he wanted me to feel what they must have felt.
A man in a red truck was sitting up there, also enjoying the view. Wind Song struck up a conversation, and in no time, we all felt like old friends. Eventually, we said our goodbyes — Wind Song gave the man his fairly new canopy — and we got back on the road toward the first place he wanted me to see.
Wind Song explained as he drove that people would be a lot happier if we worried less. He pointed to a small dreamcatcher hanging from his rear-view mirror as an example. Many people, when they have a problem, focus all their energy and time on the issue. They’re so close to the problem that nothing else can be seen. However, if they’d take about 20 steps back, and look from where they’ve been on one horizon and where they’re going and want to be on another, they’d see how small their so-called problem really is. The way he told it was more colorful, but we can’t print his exact words here.
Back to his advice. I saw his point. I also realized my day wasn’t going to end with a simple story about arrowheads. Wind Song wasn’t talking about Native American tools, he was discussing his spiritual philosophy. Now, I had to figure out how and if that would translate to something for The Picayune’s readers.
He took me to a nice place on Lake LBJ to show me three trees he felt had special importance for Native Americans. But first, the shoes and socks had to come off again. It didn’t last too long this time. The clover burrs were everywhere, and my feet weren’t ready for that. Wind Song, with just his swim shorts, walked slowly on a broken foot he recently suffered while breaking a horse. We walked down near the lake to a huge, old oak tree. Who knows how old this tree might be, but I have a feeling it has stories to tell, if it could.
He asked me to touch the tree, to hold my hand to it and feel its energy. What was it telling me? Was there something it had to communicate to me?
I get that this might be too far out there for many of you. That’s fine. But part of my job is listening to people’s points of view and relaying that to the public. So whether it’s a government official explaining tax policy or a fisherman I just met talking about nature, I’m just here as a messenger.
I turned from the tree, and Wind Song pointed to a small, white feather on the grass. This was significant, especially after a moment such as mine with the tree, he explained. I picked it up to take with me as a reminder of the moment. I still have it, by the way.
We talked about two other trees at that location and what their purposes could have been. We walked slowly back to his vehicle. I noticed some money he took out of his pocket and placed on the ground was gone.
If someone else took it, they needed it more than him, he said. No worries; he’ll just get some more money.
Then it was off to cash a check and get lunch.
After lunch, he wanted to go to one more place. We stopped near a private boat launch, and he showed me a 5-pound clear, obsidian block. He said he found it a long time ago near the Colorado River in Burnet County. He handed me two arrowheads and a large white feather he uses in ceremonies. I headed to a wood dock to place the items for a photo. He headed to the water for a quick dip in the lake.
The obsidian, he said, is alive. Obsidian and crystals are important in many cultures and communities. Some days, Wind Song’s obsidian block is green or yellow or purple — all with different meanings. That day, it was happy.
So my time with Wind Song wound down. He showed me elevation, water, trees, earth — important elements to him. We discussed nature and happiness and health and work and life. It’s all part of, as close as he can translate, the “plan.” He said “plan” as he interlocked his fingers. It’s all part of what God has planned for us. Wind Song could be called a Christian, but that label misses the point entirely. For example, he said John Lennon had it figured out when he wrote, “All you need is love.”
That’s as close as anyone’s been able to come to putting it all in one compact saying, Wind Song said.
And that’s what I took from my time with Wind Song. Will I have some stories to remember for a long time, for what I’ve written and not written? Of course.
But taking love with you, and being part of the plan, that’s what it’s all about to Wind Song. And when I returned to work, that’s what I took with me.
jared@thepicayune.com
