Category Archives: Blog of Me

It was a day that still lingers in my mind, heavy with meaning yet elusive in its full understanding. I had been brought to the riverside—a place sacred to the Natives—where the sound of rushing water mixed with the rhythmic hum of life along the banks. Salmon leapt from the current, their silvery bodies glinting in the sun as if defying time itself. This was their journey, their sacred purpose, one that generations of Native people had honored.

I wasn’t alone. A Native veteran, a man who had served three tours and carried the weight of leadership, had brought me there. He was a man of vision, much like me, speaking with a fire in his voice about how things needed to change on the reservation. His ideas mirrored my own—practical, bold, and rooted in a desire to heal the fractures in his community. There was something unspoken between us, a shared understanding of responsibility. After a time, he left, his presence lingering like a steadying force.

Then they came. An elderly man and a woman approached, carrying with them an air of quiet purpose. They brought me Indian fry bread with homemade jam—a simple offering, yet deeply meaningful. There is a kind of sacredness in sharing food, a communion that speaks louder than words. I accepted it with gratitude, feeling the weight of the moment.

The elderly man looked at me, his eyes reflecting a depth I couldn’t quite place, but can never forget. It was pain.
Without preamble, he said something that I have carried with me ever since: “I am the reason.” He said it with such conviction that it felt like a truth etched into the fabric of the universe. He didn’t explain further, and somehow, it didn’t feel like he needed to. Those words, profound in their simplicity, hung in the air as if waiting to take root in my soul.

Was he speaking of himself as an individual? Was he the reason for something greater—something I hadn’t yet uncovered? Or was he embodying a larger truth, a reminder of interconnectedness, resilience, and purpose? The questions swirled in my mind, but before I could ask, he left, taking with him the mystery of his declaration.

I stayed a while longer, watching the Native people fish for salmon. Their movements were deliberate, honoring the rhythm of the river and the life it sustained. I felt like an observer of something timeless, a ritual that tied the present to the past in an unbroken thread. The river, the salmon, the people—they all seemed to whisper of perseverance, of cycles, of something sacred.

As I stood there, the memory of another time surfaced, one that felt connected to this moment in an inexplicable way. Many years earlier, I had the privilege of being with Paul Auger as he carved a totem pole for the late owner of the Seattle Seahawks. It was an extraordinary experience, alive with creativity, culture, and community. We hooked up a microphone, had speakers, and even brought in a guitar player. The kids danced and sang, their voices filling the air with joy and the rhythm of life.

During that time, another Native artisan made me my dreamcatcher—It wasn’t just any dreamcatcher; its center held a bear of protection, carved with care and intention by Paul. The experience was a blending of art, tradition, and spirit, and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Paul Auger, a renowned carver in his own right, was part of that world. His talent was legendary, and though he has since passed, his legacy continues to inspire.

When I finally left the riverside that day, the words of the elder followed me: “I am the reason.” Even now, they echo in my heart, refusing to fade. I have thought of them often, wondering why he felt compelled to share those words with me. Was it a calling? A blessing? A reminder that I, too, am part of something larger?

Perhaps he saw something in me—a leader, a healer, someone who could carry forward his story, his legacy. Perhaps it was a message meant to unfold over time, like the salmon’s journey upstream, where the destination isn’t always clear but the purpose is unwavering.

That day by the riverside, I felt the weight of something bigger than myself. The elder’s words, the veteran’s passion, the salmon’s leap—all of it was connected, part of a tapestry I am only beginning to understand. And while I may never fully grasp why the elder came to me or what he meant, I know this: the encounter changed me. It planted a seed, a question, a purpose that continues to grow.

For now, I hold his words close, trusting that one day, their meaning will become clear. Until then, I walk forward, guided by the memory of that riverside, the totem carvers I once knew, and the quiet truths that linger in the waters and woods of this earth.

© 2024 Samantha syrnich TLC all rights reserved.