Shamanism, for those unfamiliar, is the method developed by early humans to communicate with the spirit world to further understand the link between themselves and their creator. It is the basis upon which religions are formed and is as valid now as in ancient times. We are descendants of those who first set foot upon the path of discovery, a seemingly endless quest in determining who we are, where we have come from, and why we are here.

Soaring Eagle, Spirit of the Wind is the telling of two quests.

Rosalie, a self-destructive woman, is summoned into the spirit world and persuaded to embark upon her own quest of discovery. Along the way she must develop the will to battle the greatest of all foes; herself, a battle she is destined to lose if not for the aid of the shaman, Soaring Eagle.

Soaring Eagle, engaged in an endless quest to serve his people, sees Rosalie’s plight in a vision, and propels himself into the spirit world to retrieve her soul.

The plot is designed around three shamanic journeys that have been adapted from the author's personal experiences. Written in a style devised to keep pace with the shaman’s drum, the story is composed at a conceptual level difficult to achieve and is destined to become a cult classic.



Excerpt- Soaring Eagle, Spirit of the Wind
©Copyright 2003, Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Starved of fresh kindling, the heart of the circle of stone lay as victim to the cool morning dew. Stars fade as Grandfather Sun prepares His return. Creatures of night retreat to places oblivious to the coming day. Creatures of day stir amidst the failing shroud of darkness. A broadening glow splashes red across Father Sky, and, Soaring Eagle, rising from his vigil, is washed by the sacred beacon of the newborn day. Bathed in the warmth of dawn, he reverently embraces the virgin light.

Mother Earth breathes a gentle sigh bringing humility to a heart still open to divine allusion and his eyes draw to delicate stirring within a stand of brush. There, an apparition appears whose head and shoulders are adorned by the tanned hide of Wolf. Trinkets of claw and talon trim a breastplate of bone. Hair, straight and bleak, mingle with feathers of Hawk and Eagle, distinguishing him as the spirit of his people, the last to walk this sacred ground, thrust upon the land in perpetual wandering.

A blade of obsidian radiates a reflection of early light as the apparition turns away. Segments of breastplate tap softly in a voice, hollow and forlorn, and the vision withers. Stepping through the brush, Soaring Eagle finds himself at the threshold of a primeval trail discernible by subtle openings in the forests growth now reclaimed by She who sculpts the whole of Creation. He kneels. Touching his palm to Earth he feels the pale memory of human footsteps. Reverently he accepts the divine guidance and continues along the pristine path, for where Father Sky and Mother Earth converge lay the reason the spirits call his name.

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