So here it is - 2008. A new number if you believe in the Gregorian calendar - and I don’t know if I do or I don’t but I do know its the one we need to use if we want to get along in this society at this moment in this place. Either way its a new day - that much I know - and I can agree its the start of a new year (why not). The numerologists are saying this is a “1″ year - the start of a new 9-year cycle - since 2+0+0+8=10 and 1+0=1. So regardless of how its dissected - this is a new beginning.

My friend Roman and I decided we would do something symbolic and meaningful this New Year’s Eve so we split from the hooting and hollering of the crazed revelers on the New York streets and hit the snowy road to the Berkshires in Massachusetts. We arrived well after nightfall to a dark and snowbound cabin deep in the Northeastern wilderness. A large TP off to the side glowed with the orange of the fire within. We were really out in the middle of nowhere. A small part of me longed for the madness of the Manhattan New Years parties but a deeper truer part of me felt secure that we had made a smart decision.
We walked up to the tiny little house where a few people were hanging around and we met the friend of Roman’s who would be leading the evening’s ceremony. He was an elder of the Navajo tribe and the night would be spent in a TP celebrating a prayer for his 4-yr old grandson. Before the ceremony began someone shouted and pointed up to the sky where we saw a giant comet streaking across the sky leaving a long glowing green tail behind it. A beautiful event to behold, it seemed like a good omen - a New Years blessing.

We helped by gathering wood out of the snow and bringing it into the TP - a much larger structure than I had envisioned it would be. The simple geometry and ancient innovation of it struck me as so incredible and powerful. Eventually the smoke flaps were secured in place and the fire started as we all took our seats around it.

The chief spoke a bit about the intention of this evening’s prayer and thanked us all for coming to give blessing to his grandson. He also thanked us for coming for ourselves and for all people everywhere. He rolled several tobaccos in corn husks and passed them to each of us individually. I wasn’t so crazy about smoking it but I gave it a try. The bulk of the tobacco had fallen out of mine and I kinda knew it wasn’t gonna light. They passed me the lighting stick from the fire and as I put the tobacco to the ember on the end I just knew it wasn’t gonna light. I sucked a ton of wood smoke into my lungs trying in vain to light the damn thing but it just wouldn’t. The chief grew a little impatient with me and asked someone else to light it. They tried and handed it to me half lit - but as soon as they handed it to me it went out again. The chief told someone to give me a bic lighter and I tried lighting it again. “Its not a cigarette,” he said “its a prayer.” Prayer or not I was smoked out from the thick air in the TP and from sucking on that damn smoking ember. I began to grow frustrated with the whole scene. The peyote we had taken was not as strong as I’d hoped it would be and I felt as though I was being singled out as the stupid white man. I was tired and full of smoke and seeing a long long night ahead of us, I started to feel very resistant to the whole scene.

“What if I just left?” I thought. “I could just go up to the house and go to sleep - I’m already the embarrassment of the ceremony so what have I got to lose?” I wondered how long before I could just roll over and go to sleep. “Here I am,” I thought, “in the first few moments of 2008 and I’m taking orders from someone I don’t even know. I’m tired and thirsty and I just want to relax - but here I am committed to this situation for the next several hours.” My brain started to go into deep resistance. I didn’t want to be there and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I could tell that the resistant energy I held could be felt by others in the ceremony and I hated to be such a grump. But one thing was for sure - its what I was feeling and it was real. I wondered why the universe would put me in this situation on such a significant day. What was I meant to learn here? Was it simply that things don’t always work out the way I want them to and sometimes I just have to deal with what is happening? Well, that was for sure. But what was the deeper lesson here?

I stared into the fire and observed the way I was feeling. I recognized the hurt I felt in being singled out for not being able to light the tobacco. I knew I had sort of insulted the family by not smoking it but I didn’t want to smoke it and it would not light anyways! But this was not the time to make excuses or explanations to anyone. This was a time to sit and quietly commune with the cosmos and in doing so sort out the BS in my mind. As I stared deep into the embers I felt the attachment to this hurt and resistance begin to fade. The chief said a few kind words to me, sensing that I needed a little help in letting go. His apologetic effort eased my mind, as I again felt accepted into his circle and began to see the resistance I was experiencing for what it was. I soon recognized that this resistance was part of me and part of the way I sometimes need to experience and process things. I gave thanks to these feelings for leading me into the deeper openness that I now began to experience.

During the ceremony we asked permission to step out of the TP for a moment and we saw the land that we had approached shrouded in darkness now illuminated by the bright pink and orange sunrise. All around in every direction stretched miles and miles of snow-covered acreage. Our friend lived there on 85 acres and had an incredible view of three lakes and several mountains. It was breath-taking and incredibly inspiring.

Back in the TP, the chief handed out a little more peyote and we all drank peyote tea. His son, a beautiful Navajo man with long black hair and a round proud indigenous face, went from person to person around the fire with his water-drum and the singing staff. Everyone sang beautiful native songs that resonated deep in my soul. I thought of my father - how much he worshiped and respected the native peoples and how he would have loved to have been there with us. And I knew he was there.

I could feel the fog of my resistance lifting completely and beneath it I discovered an clearing of open space - of understanding and peace. From there we went on to have a beautiful night full of incredible songs and discussions and personal revelations. As the ceremony drew to a close with the bright pink sunrise shining through the open door of the TP, casting a vibrant glow around the chief, the women brought in the food to be blessed. Bowls of corn, berries and venison were passed around. I ate from the first two and respectfully passed on the meat. I knew that in the deep space I now inhabited it would be impossible for me to eat the flesh of an animal and I wondered how others could. Roman told me when he took his first bite of meat he almost got sick.

The ceremony closed with everyone adjourning back to the house for a full meal. The sun was fully up and none of us had slept a wink.
We hung around a few more hours and talked and I had a chance to play with the beautiful little grandson for a while. The snow was really starting to come down so we decided to split before it got too thick to go anywhere.
We said our goodbyes and thanked everyone for an amazing evening.

Out at the truck I noticed my rear tire was a little flat. On closer inspection I found it was completely flat. This might have bothered me in the past but today it just made me laugh. What a gift the cosmos had bestowed upon me this New Years Day! A flat tire in a foot of fresh snow in the midst of a growing blizzard. I didn’t care. I knew the snow was soft enough that it wouldn’t hurt the rim too much to ride on it for a while so we warmed her up and got going. The jokes just seemed to keep coming as we crawled ever so slowly down impossibly steep hills of unplowed roads - completely covered in deep snow. I laughed even harder as I remembered that I had no brake lights, running lights or signals - a little problem I hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. We drove at about 11 miles an hour for what seemed like years - awestruck by the New England winter wonderland that surrounded us… on all sides, vast landscapes spread with trees covered in snow that blasted horizontally in the wind.

Roman had to take a pee so I pulled over in the middle of the bright white no-where and let him out. As he stood there out in the snow I laughed myself into a stupor at the idea of leaving him there peeing in the middle of a blizzard and couldn’t resist driving away just to freak him out. The look on his face sent mad peals of laughter through me and I collapsed over the wheel as painful pangs of silliness spiked through me and tears of hilarity gushed down my face. As I pulled back up, he snickered at the joy I found at his expense.

“You know,” he said “it felt so good to pee that I wasn’t gonna stop even if you left. I thought, I’ll just have to walk a few miles but it will be worth it.” We continued on our journey laughing our asses off, getting lost in the white roads between nameless white fields and screaming with disbelief at sights along the way like the old decrepit tree that looked exactly like a giant eagle and a road sign that pointed to a place named Peru. Lit up by the beautiful ceremony we had just left and a little giddy from the traces of peyote and the lack of sleep, we continued on laughing and driving until we finally reached the town of Northampton where we would find a cup of tea and a dry place to change the tire.

The most fun I’ve ever had on New Years Day that I can remember. And this with a flat tire in a snow storm!