THE COWBOY POET

By Quietbear

Most people walk through their lives in a stupor. They live by habit without giving much thought to the life they’re actually living. Life is routine. A routine is a rut. A rut is a grave without ends. This is all by design. The design of the controllers of this world. They use multiple methods to keep people in a low level trance state. This makes it very easy to control them. To manipulate their emotions so that they create the energy they feed on called, “Loosh”.

The reason they get people to create this loosh, is because the rulers of this 3D world don’t actually exist in our plane. They exist in other planes because they’re not corporeal beings. They can’t create like humans do, because they’re not human. Humans are part of the Ultimate Creator, they are not. They’re not supposed to be here. They come here to control and to feed. Once enough people are aware that they’re being fed upon, they can take control of their own innate power and starve these parasites.

Look at our world today… The emotions of the masses are pushed and pulled at the whim of the controllers through the media and the frequencies that are beamed into the minds of everyone watching. That is why the tv’s are so dangerous to humanity.

There is no such thing as an individual ego. The ego is a frequency that is part of our realm. Humans receive this frequency in their brains because the brain is both a receiver and transmitter. That is why people believe that the ego is who they are, because they’re receiving the frequency in their head. It’s that constant inner chatter we hear throughout our waking hours. Once the controllers figured out that they could control the frequency of ego, they were able to take control of the masses.

The way you take control of the ego you hear in your head is to become brutally honest with yourself. Question everything you think, say and do. It isn’t that you have to kill the ego. You have to tame it. To let it see that it is not alive, that it isn’t ‘you’, it is just a tool meant to keep us from hurting ourselves more than once (when we make a mistake) and to be a communication tool so that we can talk with other humans.

Over many centuries of convincing people that the ego was who they are, it was a self perpetuating teaching through the generations and people just accepted it as being who they are. That’s what has caused so much drama in humanity. The ego has been trained to cause all sorts of dilemmas that keep it busy, to keep its self fooled into thinking that it was a living being. Again… The ego is not alive.
You can learn this through meditation.

I don’t expect others to do what I have done to tame the ego, which is countless hours of deep meditation. Much of it with my mind operating at the Theta or Delta levels of consciousness. Throughout those countless hours, I found a way to shorten the time it takes to tame the ego. It still takes some time and dedication, but it doesn’t take the many years I have spent on this path of comprehending who we are and what we are meant to be.

In order to achieve this level of comprehension, you must choose to be a Spiritual Warrior. This has to be your entire mindset. You have to learn to face everything in your life that comes up, as a warrior. A Spiritual Warrior views life as challenges to learn from and experience to the fullest. I live by the motto that was given to me in 1996 by an old cowboy poet I was giving a ride to in Nevada. He said his name was Tom. It was this: “Life is a journey to explore, not a problem to solve.”
From the moment I heard those words, it changed the way I viewed the world and my part in it, completely different than the moment before I heard him say them.

I had just been told by my teacher, SwiftDeer*, that it was time for me to go out and study the world as a shaman, and was heading back to my home base in Rescue, California to our family home. I was driving up I-95 just after dawn and I pulled into a gas station that had a convenience store and a little cafe. As I was walking up toward the store to pay for my gas, I could see what looked like an old cowboy sitting at one of the tables, staring off into the distance. He had his back to me, so we didn’t have any eye contact as I walked in. I was in a quiet place after having driven all night from Tempe, Arizona to where I was, somewhere about an hour or so north of Vegas. I paid for my gas and bought a few drinks and snacks, said thank you and headed toward my car.

About halfway there, the lady that was behind the counter came outside and asked if she could talk to me for a minute. I said sure and she walked up and indicated with her head, the cowboy inside and asked me, “Would you mind giving that old cowboy a ride north as far as you’re going?”. I asked her where he was headed and she told me, Bishop. The turnoff for Bishop was about 4 hours north. I told her sure, I could use some company. She thanked me and assured me he was a nice old guy that had been waiting for a ride that never showed up. Then I told her to have him grab his gear and throw it in the back seat. She ran up to the store and gave him the news.

I waited by my Buick sedan by the door and as he walked up, he gave me a good strong handshake, we introduced ourselves as I opened the door and he threw his saddle and bag in the back seat.

He was about 5’10”, lean and wiry, weighing about 150 pounds soaking wet. The hair I could see under his dusty black felt cowboy hat was black with a few flecks of grey. He had on a pair of Wranglers, a checkered shirts with pearl snaps and a very old, very well-worn cowboy boots. He had a big Sam Elliot style mustache that covered most of his mouth and he had on a pair of thick-lensed glasses. They were so thick they made his eyes look larger than they were, but I could see that they were wise blue eyes with a lot of smile wrinkles on either side.

After we got rolling down I-95 heading north, we had some small talk… I asked him to tell me about himself, and he did… Before he got talkin’, he asked if I’d mind if he chewed some tobacco as he pulled out a bag of Redman leaf. I said sure, if he didn’t mind if I smoked. He just nodded as he loaded up the right cheek with a giant wad of tobacco. I could smell the sweetness of it from where I sat. He never once spit out the juice. When I asked him why he said, “Son, I’ve been chewin Redman most of my life. I hardly even notice it anymore…”. I laughed and looked up toward the highway at an empty long straight stretch ahead of us.
He talked for nearly the entire ride up to the Bishop cutoff and for me the time just flew by…

He told me about his life as a cowboy, about the different ranches he’d worked at and how he’d spent most of his life on the range. That’s where he perfected his art of being a ‘cowboy poet’… Many lonely hours on the back of his ride.
It about blew my mind when he told me he was 93 years old. I knew he was old, but I figured about 70, not 93. I asked why he was still riding and he said he didn’t know what else to do.

A lot of what he said back then is a blur to me now. I remember I laughed a lot and was in amazement at some of his stories about his life. As we were nearing the cutoff toward Bishop, he got quiet and we rode in silence the last couple of miles…
At the cutoff, was a large open area where truckers would park their rigs while they grabbed a bite to eat at the diner there. It was a big double-wide mobile home that had been turned into a diner, with some showers in the back for the truckers that hauled the mining ore from the large local mines.

I pulled up about 50 yards from the diner, aiming my car to pull out after he’d grabbed his gear. He offered to buy me a meal, but I wasn’t hungry so I declined his offer but thanked him none-the-less.

As he got out of the car, I reached over to shake his hand telling him it was really nice to have met him. He took my right hand in his and placed his left hand over both or ours as he thanked me for the ride… I rolled down the right rear window so he could easily grab his gear, which he did. As he was doing so, I turned around in my seat to wish him well.

He sat his gear down, leaned into the window with his arms folded on the door and that’s when he said, “Bear, I wish you the best, my friend… And always remember, Life is a journey to explore, not a problem to solve.”. With that he tipped his hat, grabbed his gear and headed toward the diner. I sat there for a few moments, staring up the highway that led to my home, where I was headed. As I did, I glanced in the rear view mirror to catch one last look at this man who had literally just changed my life, but I couldn’t see him. I had been considering asking him if I could just take him all the way to Bishop. It was a bit out of my way, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.

That struck me as odd, because there was no way he could’ve covered that distance in the time I had looked up the road. I quickly looked at my side view mirror and still couldn’t see him, so I twisted around in my seat and he was just gone. I fired up the car, spun it around and pulled up in front of the diner. There were windows all across the front of the building and all I could see was one younger guy at a table and the waitress standing at the coffee counter. I jumped out, ran in and asked the lady if she’d seen the old cowboy I’d just dropped off and she just shook her head no… I was just standing there with a confused look on my face and she volunteered that she saw that I’d pulled up and sat in my car for a minute or so, then I spun my car around and headed into where we were standing.

I asked, “You didn’t see an old cowboy carrying a saddle and rucksack get out of my car and walk this way?” And she just smiled and repeated what she’d just said. She was looking a little perplexed as well, so I just shook my head, thanked her and headed back out to my car. I stood outside before getting in, looking in all directions to see if he’d been able to walk out of my sight, up the road. I got in my car and headed up the cutoff toward Bishop to see if he was still walking but after a mile or so, I knew I wasn’t going to find him on that road, or anywhere for that matter…

I drove back to the cutoff and pulled back into that huge open area near the diner and just sat there for awhile, thinking about what had just occurred. The only thing that kept running through my mind was his parting words of wisdom and that smile he had… A giant grin is a more apt description, really. Like I’d said, you couldn’t really see his mouth due the giant mustache, but his mustache lifted up as his cheeks pulled tight to make that grin and his eyes though a little blurry from the thick specs, were shining bright and blue in silent laughter.

I could not deny what had just happened, as strange as it all sounded in my head as I went over the last four hours and especially in the last hour or so… He had just disappeared and he had just changed the way I viewed my life and the journey I was on, forever.

I think about Tom from time to time, even still… I like to think he’s out on his horse far out on the range, speaking his poetry to the cattle he is caring for…

That, or he’s in heaven now, looking down on me as I enjoy this journey I am exploring. So I smile, tip my hat to him and continue this awesome journey of life.