The Standing Rock Bike Tour- Day 3 - Bottling My Prayers (Steemit Exclusive)

October 12, Day 3

I awoke the next morning with a fist full of fur. Apparently my dad’s Siberian husky, Radley, missed me as much as I missed him, and decided to sleep at the foot of the couch I was crashing on.

Radley and I used to go on all sorts of adventures together. Whether it was going on a short walk to Catamount Reservoir or an epic climb to the top of Pikes Peak, he was always an enthusiastic companion.

I somehow ended up wrestling that boisterous fur ball. Then, as both of us laid on our backs, wiggling around like fish out of water, my dad walked downstairs.

He watched us for a moment, then shook his head in embarrassment. “Goofballs”- he uttered. “How about a round of pool?”

My ears perked up, and I turned to look at him.

“Sure!” I said, with a boisterous grin.

Lighthearted conversation danced above the green felt, and the two of us Growling ok, three of us, had an incredibly pleasant start to our day. We all had packed schedules to tend to though, (especially Radley), so I beat my dad in a round of pool, and we got on our way .

My dad cooked up some hash browns and eggs, along with tatter tots and bacon, and enjoyed breakfast with me before he got back to work. I shot a quick video blog outside his house, told my dad I loved him, and then rolled down the driveway, into the fog.

The clouds were thick that day and overwhelmed the town, yet I was a hot knife in butter, slicing through the mist. Every scene seemed two degrees more green and lush than normal, and every sound seemed gently muffled.

I was loving it!

When I finally cut through the clouds and made it to Manitou Springs, I dug into my bags and unpacked two glass water bottles. On one of the bottles, I had an etched a picture of a Sri Yantra, and the world; this would be my gift to the Elders. I left one of the bottles blank, and decided that this would be my personal stash of water for the journey.

Over the next hour, I visited each of the eight mineral springs in Manitou.

Located by an ornate gazebo at the edge of Memorial Park, the Ten Minute Spring quietly babbled outside of countless weddings and family reunions before I came to drink from it. Yet, it nourished my soul, all the same as it did the newly weds, and the bloodline.

I took a moment to breathe, get my mind right, and ground deep into the moment. Then, as I filled the glass bottles, I poured in my prayer.

“As I stand here, in this moment, I recognize that there's an infinite universe beyond my perception. And due to the confines of my awareness, I can only perceive a minute fraction of what actually exists.

Yet even in that comparatively small measure, I see an inescapable beauty penetrating, composing, and connecting all things. This life force; this grand intelligence; this creative energy, I feel it in the depths of my soul, and know that I am part of it, and it is part of me.

Humbled by its magnitude, I recognize that I know comparatively little, and that my opinions do know create or define truth, but merely bring a light to it- at least this is my aim, and heartfelt mission.

And, as I cultivate a relationship with this divinity, I realize that it doesn't matter what I call it; no garmet of religion, or glorified nickname can dictate the truth; it is the essence, and substance, that's important.

That being said, I give thanks to you, Beloved Creator, for all the life that circulates this planet, and the water within it.

Filled with an abundance of life, and boasting of immeasurable diversity, I want to extend my gratitude of the oceans to you.

I pray that all of the oceans inhabitants are protected from overfishing, pollution, and climate change. I pray that the moratoriums put in place, will hold space for the proliferation of aquatic life, and that all the trash islands that are forming, will be cleaned up, and transformed into something beneficial. I pray that our current sea level, and the temperature of ocean, remains stable, and supports life.

I know that there is a complex balance of life under the waves, and that humans haven’t been great to our oceans, but I pray that changes.

As we heal ourselves, may we heal our oceans.

Thank you, God.

Mni Wiconi.”

I capped the bottles then rode off. Passing statues and a prayer pole, I eventually made it up to the main road. Then, off to the right, somewhat out of sight, I saw another spring.

Colored with sediment, a stoic stone fountain sat outside of a round hut. I knelt beside it and prayed.

“Beloved Creator, thank you for the life giving lakes, ponds, and reservoirs that are scattered across the Earth. Acting as giant vessels of life giving water, they hold a treasured ecosystem within them.

I realize that I too have a treasured ecosystem within me; an organic, highly-connected, network of thoughts and emotions. And as I pray for the purification and preservation of all lakes, ponds and reservoirs, may I do so by purifying my mind. “

I filled the bottles then made my way down the street.

Minutes later, I was at the Cheyenne Spring, situated in the middle of downtown Manitou Spring. This was probably the most iconic of all the springs. Standing upright, in the middle of the path, and topped with a crown of feathers and buffalo horns, this fountain greeted nearly everyone in Manitou.

I had already talked to two different families about the spring, before I finally got around to prayerfully filling the bottles.

“Devine Source of Life, from the moment I immerged from my mother's womb, I've been immensely blessed. At times, I forget this, and let the woes of the world weigh me down. But when I look towards the mountains, and think of the rivers, streams, and babbling creeks flowing down them, I'm once again reminded of your grandeur, grace, and ceaseless provision.

Unfortunately, I also see dams being put up to block this flow of life. I see Salmon's migration patterns being disrupted, and ecological disruption occurring because of them. In my own life, I see how certain obstacles block my gratitude from incessantly flowing, cutting my connection to the wellsprings of infinite life, and creating energetic havoc.

So, as I seek to see a restoration of all flowing water, I will actively remove the blockages in my life, which keep me from being grateful; I will let thankfulness flow through me, incessantly.

More so, as I seek to witness the end of oil spilling into our rivers, may I cease to let hate and anger leak into my veins. "

After I filled the bottles, I journeyed over to the Penny Arcade to find the next spring. It didn't take much more than a minute to get over there, but when I did, it was like I was in a whole new world. I walked my bike off of the main strip, into a loud collection of arcade machines. Bells rang out around from one of the brightly colored machines, and children's laughter echoed from around the corner.

I parked my bike against one of the picnic tables, retrieved the prayer bottles from my pack, and walked towards the spring.

Surrounded by a mosaic tile work, the fountain held the image of an old chief above it. I uncapped the bottles and prayed again.

"Great Spirit, you are so wonderful. Eternally watching over us and providing us with all that we need, I give thanks for the water under the ground. Although it's unseen by many, I realize how important our ground water, and aquifers are, and how necessary they are for life to exist.

I realize that there is a source of life within me, that is also below the surface. I realize that this subconscious aquifer can be penetrated by a belief, and if that belief is toxic, it can poison my psyche, and leach into my life. So, as I seek to see an end to fracking and pipelines, I actively stand guard of my subconscious, and refuse to let any toxic beliefs penetrate, and leach into my mind."

After the bottles were filled, I left the Penny Arcade and went to off to find the Wheeler Spring. I had sipped from this spring countless times, but not once, had I ever done it so prayerfully. Yet now was my chance. I once again uncapped the bottles and prayed.

"Unci Maka, Pachimama, I am daily swept up in your mysteries, and for that I can only give thanks. Right now, as I bottle up water from the Wheeler Spring, I see a world heating up, and threatening our planet's glaciers and polar ice caps. I also see how at times, anger, frustration, and irritability heat up my inner climate, threatening my health, wealth, and happiness.

So, as I seek to see all frozen fresh water protected, I will practice keep my temperament cool, calm, and collected; radiating peace and harmony."

I capped the bottles once again, and scooted over to the Stanton Spring. This spring featured a women reaching down to grasp a handful of water. Coming as an equal, this spring had me reach down as well, to pour in my prayers.

As I did, I spoke up and prayed, "Infinite Intelligence, I praise you, and celebrate all that you have made! You fill the sky with rain that nourishes our crops, and snow that covers our mountains and feeds our streams in the spring. Sometimes this water comes down as a storm, and appears to bear nothing but darkness and destruction upon the land. Still, for those of us who trace cause and effect, we can see that these storms also nourish the land, and are necessary for life.

Witnessing the destructive and regenerative properties of a storm, I pray that all the trials in my life, nourish my Earthly experience with the sustenance need to grow up in a good way."

From there I traveled up Ruxton Avenue, in search of the Twin Spring. Tucked away, on the side of wall by a local shop, this spring trickled down into my bottles, and I prayed, "Almighty God, I rejoice in knowing your ears are not deaf, and that you have heard the supplication of the thousands of people who are praying for the wellbeing of the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers, and all their tributaries.

Currently threatened from the Dakota Access Pipeline, I pray that these sacred waters are protected. So, as I seek it's continual protection, and purification, may I actively gain a greater awareness of what's going on, and how I can help. "

I journeyed up another quarter mile of steep foothills, then pulled over to finish my prayers at the Iron Spring. Off the main road, and under a gazebo, this spring didn't steadily flow like the others, but instead spat out a shot of water every couple seconds. The water basin around it had been dyed a rusty orange from the iron rich spring water, and as I finished filling up the bottles, I finished my prayers.

"Creator, I am so thankful for my life, and all the life around me. Within every cell of our being, we hold that sacred water of life, Mni Wiconi, and I pray that you bless all of it. And as I unite, beyond time and space, with all my relations, I pray that you protect us, heal us, nurture us, and bring us into a closer relationship with you. For you have given us so much; help us learn to fully respect it. May we be responsible stewards of the Earth, and ourselves. Walk with us, Great Spirit, and teach us how to live. Amen."

Gathering this spring water was much more of a spiritual task than I had imagined, and really influenced my mood; my typically playful and adventurous stride had taken on a more reverent tone, and I really felt at one with the water that I had collected. I started to think about the history of these springs and the significance of this simple act.

For thousands of years, various tribes used to drink from these springs for their healing properties. And now I was here, prayerfully collecting this water as a humble gift for the elders up at Standing Rock.

I wanted to be a part of the healing process, and now, with this prayerful collection of water, I realized I was part of a ceremony.

I got goosebumps.

I wasn't at The Garden of the Gods enacting a water ceremony like I had planned, but I felt as if I was still starting this tour in a good way. And that's all I wanted.

I wrapped up the bottles in clean wool socks for protection, then packed them deep inside my bags.

I took a moment to gather myself, and take in the scene.

I was tucked snuggly up in the foothills of my favorite mountain, getting rained on by damp, golden leaves, while immersed in an autumn forest.

I was as far up as I needed to go, and now, it was my turn to soar down back down into Manitou Springs.

Life was good.

Nostalgia wafted up with the rich petrichor; and memories raced past me as I flew down into town, and through the city streets.

Before long, I was staring up the crevasse of a wild and winding mountainous pass, washed in fog. I finally had headlights, which helped, but I was still facing a notoriously dangerous stretch of road.

No dinky light was going to save me now. These roads were narrow, and the shoulders were tiny at best. In fact, the shoulders were littered with debris and fallen rocks, and disappeared whenever the road turned- so I was pretty much out of luck.

My mom would usually freak out whenever I rode it (so I tended to not tell her when I did). I told her I was coming this time through, so I had to calm her anxieties by reminding her that I was good at working with the cars.

You see, I noticed that cars typically cruise by in waves- or pulses if you will. The roads would be full one moment, and then empty the next, and as long as I took the sharp turns when the road was empty, I had a pretty good chance of not dying.

After 5 or so miles, I made it past the treacherous traffic, and was able to ditch Highway 24 to head up on the back roads through Green Mountain Falls.

While rolling through the wooded hills up there, I stumbled across a mythical looking dwelling. It was truly unlike anything I had ever seen, and left me absolutely fascinated.

"Did the Lorax live here?"

Of course, I had to investigate. I pulled out my camera and started snapping photos of this strange, wooded structure. Thin branches were all woven together to form the walls and windows, and after wandering around for a while, I found a sign describing what all of this was.

I was having a great time, but that didn’t seem to stop the clock from ticking, or the sun from setting, so I hopped back in the saddle, and prepared for the next dozen miles uphill.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, I was at my mom’s doorstep, awaiting a massive hug.

”Scottie!” My mom exclaimed, as she went in for a hug.

The scent of rosemary, cinnamon, and clove wafted up in the air, as I walked through the doorway, into her arms.

“Momma!” I exclaimed, as her soft red hair brushed past my face as” It’s so good to see you! How have you been!? “

“Excellent!" she said, after pulling bag from our hug. "Tom and I were just finishing up a podcast about the Kingdom of Heaven, and were getting ready to start cooking dinner. Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Always!" I laughed, "you know this.”

We caught up on our personal lives, and rode out the highs and lows together. Then we started discussing the tour.

“What route are you going to take?” she asked.

“I’m not entirely sure; every thing's negotiable. My goal is to take the flattest route there, in hopes that I can just roll out of the mountains, and flow like a stream straight down to the Cannonball River… but I doubt it’ll turn out the way. Things rarely go as planned.

As far as tomorrow goes, I’m going to try to make it to Ember’s house in Golden before I pass out.

But it's, uh, gonna be tricky. Golden is something like 80 miles north of here, via Rampart.

I plan on riding a couple 100 mile days on this tour, but I have a feeling like tomorrow's going to be one of the tougher days. After all, I’ll be rocking and rolling on gravel roads, over a mountain range, with a trailer full of supplies.

I know I can do it- I’ve done it before- but it’s definitely no walk in the park.”

It felt somewhat strange to be talking about directions and routes in person. Normally I was hundreds miles away, holding a phone up to my ear while discussing these things. My Momma was my home base when I traveled, and ironically, the distance always seemed to bring us closer.

This was especially true on my first tour to Canada, when I had leapt from my cozy nest in the mountains, to go on my first real adventure. A series of breakdowns clipped my wings, and for a while, I felt like I was falling from the sky. Thankfully my momma always reminded me that I could fly.

“The difference between falling and flying is the effort we exert to rise up, again and again.” Her words echoed in my mind, even on the darkest of days.

She pulled out her harp, and I situated myself around one of her drums, then we played our way into the night.

I might have grown up, and stretched my wings since that first adventure, but being back home, at my Momma’s nest in Woodland Park, was still a great place to be.

Eventually, when the music settled into silence, we looked at each other and smiled. My eyelids sagged into a sleepy gaze, and my muscles fully released; all the tension that had built up throughout the day was released, and I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep.

I stretched my arms out above my head and yawned.

“Bedtime?” I asked, in a drowsy tone.

I could see my mom was just as tired as me. She stretched out as well, and replied, “Sounds good. Everything’s set up for you downstairs.

It’s been really great seeing you Scottie!”

“Thanks Mom!" I replied. "You’re the best!”

“I love you Scottie, Sleep well!” she said, as she started up head to her room.

“I love you too Mom. Good night.”

Then, with a flick on a light switch, Day 3 of the Standing Rock Bike Tour was completed.

---

Just now tuning in? The Standing Rock Bike Tour is getting released exclusively on Steemit, day by day, for the next two months.

Previous Chapters Include-
Introduction- Igniting the Fire at Unify
Day 1- Indigenous People's Day
Day 2 - Musical Mantras

Learn more, and access all available chapters at-
http://www.righteousendeavors.com