Coyote at Starbucks

 I have a story to tell you about a magical Coyote who teaches me marvelous and wise lessons. 

Click on Go to this Sway to listen to my story.

Coyote at Starbucks

Go to this Sway

Salvation: Death Is Just Another Word for It.

Salvation: Death Is Just Another Word For It
By Mushroom Montoya

Doom cast its heavy net,
Shrouding winter in mournfulness.
Death slunk in and snatched two uncles
And then crushed my grandmother’s heart
So hard it stopped, forever.

 I stood in a foot of snow,
Wearing my sandals
In stockinged feet,
Watching the third coffin descend.

“That’s my salvation,
Death is just another word for it,”
Said my mother,

A skeleton tightly wrapped
In lost wishes for a full recovery,
And in skin whose tenderness got bleached out
By her ever-present cancer.

She winked at me
with an impish smile,
Wishing she had the strength
to play.

She tried when we arrived home.
We pulled out our tongues of fire.
But hers fizzled out too soon
Giving me the unfair advantage
Of strength and youth.

I returned home to Albuquerque
Failing to imagine her
Not skinny,
not almost dead.

Death’s eye was watching me too
When I left work
To go home the following day.

The light turned green
I drove My motorcycle
Into the red light runner’s car,
Speeding through the intersection

Just in time
For me to collide,
Fly,
And break pieces of my body
On the hard, black, gritty asphalt.

This was not my salvation.
Death was not the word.

Although the thought crossed my mind

As I flew upside down.

I lay on the couch,
Listening to Lady Chatterley’s Lover,
Recuperating,
While my mother was dying
800 miles away,

Hoping her salvation
Would come 
While she was still at home
And not in a hospital bed.

My mother would’ve washed out my mouth
With soap
If I had used the naughty words
In Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

The phone rang,
“Mom’s in the hospital
She won’t last two weeks.”
She won’t have her salvation at home.

I stood in front of her coffin
Wearing my well-worn sandals
Holding a brush and some paint
To create a butterfly

A graphic representation
Of her Death
Of her salvation.

I left her grave wondering
If she had ever read
Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

Red Wagon Boat

By Mushroom Montoya

 

When I was five years old, I was small enough to lie against the back window of our black 1949 Chevy as my Papa drove up the highway from Albuquerque to Bernalillo (pronounced burn a leo). We were on our way to visit my cousin, Rose, who was almost as old as I was. Mama wanted to visit her younger sister, Aunt Elsie, who was going to have a baby. Papa wanted to drink the Hamms beer he brought with Uncle Gile (pronounced Ggee le).

As Papa drove up the highway, I looked to the east at the Sandia Mountain and imagined it as a giant sleeping bear. From my vantage point, lying above the back seat, I could see the road ahead and knew when my Papa would reach the big dip in the road that made my stomach drop. When he drove by the adobe houses in the Sandia Pueblo, I knew the dip was close. I got down from the back window ledge and sat in the backseat. I looked ahead and saw the big, lone cottonwood tree. I closed my eyes, anticipating the dip. The car sunk into the dip. Whooh! My stomach plunged to the bottom of my gut. That was fun! 

As we entered the old town of Bernalillo, Papa pulled into the Mobil gas station with the red flying horse. He got out of the car when his friend, Sonny, came to fill his tank. Sonny turned a crank on the gas pump, and I watched the yellow pee-colored gas rise up, filling the giant glass bottle on top of the pump. It stopped when the gas filled up to the number ten. Sonny put the hose in our car’s gas pipe and opened the car’s hood. I stared at the glass bottle, watching the yellow pee-colored gasoline disappear as it went down.

  My mother talked to my baby brother, who wiggled in her lap. She turned, asking me to grab a diaper out of the bag on the back seat. I reached over the front seat to give her one, but she was looking at the gas pump and didn’t take it from me.

“Aqui (here), Mama,” I said.

She turned, “Sientate,” (sit down) she said as she took the diaper. “Cuidad.”

Her voice was quieter than normal. It scared me a little. I didn’t know why she told me to be careful. A lone dog barked in the distance. I sat down on the back seat and looked at the giant glass gas bottle. It was empty. Papa was still talking to Sonny, who put the hood down with a metallic clank.

“Hay Dios mio,” my mother said. Her face looked scared. “Why is your Papa taking so long?” She reached over to honk the horn, but another car came into the gas station, and Sonny left. My Papa got back into the car, smiling. He turned off the main street onto a dirt road. I liked the way the car vibrated when my Papa drove over the dry dirt washboard part of the road. We drove over a narrow bridge covering a wide irrigation ditch and turned right. I stood up and looked at the brown water in the ditch until we reached my Aunt Elsie’s house.

Her Irish Setter mutts were out in front, barking when we pulled onto Aunt Elsie’s ranchito. They followed our car until it stopped. Their tails were wagging as I got out of the car. Aunt Elsie came out of her white adobe house, with my cousin Rose following close behind. Aunt Elsie opened her arms, scooped me up, and gave me a kiss. The adults went inside.

My cousin, Rose, asked me to follow her. “One of the cows had a baby,” she said. “Do you want to see?” I ran after her to the barn. She had to stand on her toes to open the barn door. We went inside. “Look! It’s standing in the corner,” she said.  We petted the calf for a little while, and then Rose put her hand in the calf’s mouth. “It’s real soft.” She took my hand. “Here you do it.”

I was reluctant, at first. But I let her put my hand in the calf’s mouth. Its tongue felt really soft as it tried to suckle my fingers. I laughed.

“I was coming here to feed the calf,” Rose said, “but mama told me to wait until you got here.” She went to the side of the barn and picked up a big bottle with a big nipple. “Do you want to help me feed it?” she asked “Here.” She handed me the bottle. “Hold it up high, so the milk can go down,” she said. We took turns feeding the calf until the bottle was empty.

“Come on,” she said. “There’s water in our acequia (irrigation ditch).”

As we ran over to the acequia, I was distracted by an old red wagon lying next to it. I walked over to it. “Hey! Rose, what happened to the wheels?”

“I don’t know. My Papa found it that way.”

I lifted the wagon onto its side, to make sure that the wheels really were missing. “I know what we could do with this wagon,” I said.

A couple of chickens came to see what we were doing. The dogs barked at a truck that drove along the dirt road.

“What can we do with it?” Rose asked. “It doesn’t have wheels.”

 “Help me put the wagon in the acequia.”

Rose shook her head. “No. That’s stupid. The wagon isn’t a boat.”

“Help me put it in and see how far it goes,” I said. We lifted the wagon and placed it in the water. It floated a long way (in my five-year-old mind). We ran after it until it sank. “Let’s pull it out and get in and see how far we can go.”

Rose shook her head again. “It’s too small for both of us,” she said. I took off my shoes and socks, and she helped me pull the wagon out of the water. “You go first,” she said. Even though Rose was nine months younger than me, I thought she was pretty smart.

We put the wagon into the water. I got in and sat down quickly. “Hey! It’s working!” I yelled. The wagon floated along the acequia for a few feet before it sank. The water barely covered the wagon. I stood up. Although my butt was wet and muddy, I didn’t care.  Rose helped me pull the wagon out of the water. We drained the wagon, put it back in the water, and Rose got in. We had so much fun taking turns in our makeshift boat until we heard my mama yell, “Ay! Dios mio!! You two are so dirty. Get out!”

Brown muddy water dripped from Rose’s dress as she stood up and got out of the wagon. We pulled the wagon out of the acequia and put it on the ground. My mother shook her head and marched Rose and me back to the house. She asked Aunt Elsie to get the washtub and put it in the kitchen. My mother pulled my shirt over my head and pulled down my pants and underwear while we were still outside. “Where are your shoes?” she asked. I pointed to the acequia. “Quick! Go get them!” she said. She pulled Rose’s dress over her head as I ran nude to get my shoes.  She brought us into the kitchen, plunked Rose and me into a metal tub, and she and Aunt Elsie gave us a bath. After they bathed us, they made us stay in the house while they washed our clothes and hung them out on the clothesline. Papa and Uncle Gile were in the living room, smoking and drinking more beer. Uncle Gile asked me if I wanted a sip of his beer. I shook my head. “No. It’s yucky!” He laughed.

Aunt Elsie called us into the kitchen to eat lunch. She gave Rose and me towels to sit on when we all sat at the table. Rose sat next to me. We weren’t wearing anything because our clothes were hanging on the clothesline.

Our clothes were dry, in the arid New Mexico air, by the time we finished eating, and Mama and Aunt Elsie washed the dishes. Mama got me dressed while Aunt Elsie pulled a dress over Rose’s head. “Playing in your boat was fun, Rose,” I said.

 “Yeah. Maybe Papa can fix the holes for next time,” she said. 

Mama changed my baby brother’s diaper on the couch and said it was time to go. “Why do you look so worried?” Aunt Elsie asked Mama.

Mama shook her head. “I don’t know. It feels like something bad is going to happen. I just need to get home.” Aunt Elsie held my baby brother as we walked to the car. We said goodbye as I got into the back seat. Aunt Elsie kissed Mama and handed her my baby brother when Mama got into the car. Mama turned to the back to look at me. Her face looked scared. I stared at her until Papa started the car, and then I stood up on the back seat and waved to Rose as we drove away. She stood next to the dogs waving her hand, as they wagged their tails until we were around the corner.

“Are we gonna stop at Grandpa’s?” I asked as we approached Grandpa’s farm.

“Do you want to stop?” Papa asked Mama.

“No. We have to get home,” Mama said.

Papa drove on, turned the corner, and continued down the road. I stood up to see the water in the wide irrigation ditch as we approached the narrow bridge. Dust billowed behind our car. As we turned the corner and could see the highway, Mama yelled, “Hay Dios mio!” pointing to black smoke up ahead. Papa drove to the highway, turned right, and parked the car across the street from the gas station. It was on fire. Huge flames were covering the building. Papa opened his door and ran to the gas station. He left the car door open.

“Get out and close the door,” Mama said. I pushed the driver’s seat forward and got out. The fire was so hot, I could feel it on my face. “Get back in the car and roll up the windows!” Mama yelled. My baby brother started to cry. I closed the door and cranked the window shut. Mama told me to get in the back. I climbed over the driver’s seat and stood up on the back seat. I stared out the window. The flames were bigger than the gas station. The black smoke rose high into the sky. Papa and the men at the gas station were yelling and running back and forth into the smoke.

I heard the sirens and saw a fire truck coming toward us. It stopped in the middle of the street. The firemen got out and ran toward the gas station. They were yelling at the men, telling them to get away. “It might explode!” one of the firemen yelled.

“Oh Dios mio!” Mama said. She leaned over and honked the horn. My baby brother was still crying. “Grab me a bottle out of the bag,” Mama said. I turned away from the window and dug into the diaper bag for a baby bottle that had milk. I gave it to Mama. “Where is your Papa?” Mama asked, worry lines were wrinkling her face. She leaned over and honked the horn again before she took the bottle from me. She put the bottle in the baby’s mouth. “Climb up here and honk the horn,” Mama said. I climbed over the driver’s side seat and honked the horn.

Papa and Sonny came running. Papa grabbed the door handle and then he yelled. He shook his hand and blew on it. “Open the door for me,” Papa said. I pulled up on the door handle and opened the door a little. Papa slid his hand inside and opened the door all the way. He pulled me out of the car, shoved the front seat forward, and put me in the back. He got in and closed the door. Sonny ran around to the passenger side of the car and opened Mama’s door. Mama got out and Sonny climbed into the back seat with me. He smelled like smoke.

“They’re going to let it burn to the ground,” Papa said.

“They told us to get away from here, in case it explodes,” Sonny said.

Papa turned the car around and drove down the street where my other grandpa lived. My baby brother stopped crying when Papa started driving. “Where is your truck?” Papa asked Sonny.

“Thank God, I didn’t drive it to work, today. Juan Pablo dropped me off.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” Papa asked.

“Might as well,” Sonny said, “I don’t want to be anywhere near here if the gas station explodes.

“Neither do we,” Mama said. “Neither do we.”

The fire engine was the same color as Rosie's boat

Old Desk Chair

Photo by Katjuscha Schwalbe Boehm

Old Desk Chair

By Mushroom Montoya

I need to stop from time

                                             To time

To have a conversation

With the trees and bees,

About my life,

 

So, I can ask,

Yet again,

"Who

           Am

                     I

Really?"

 

I drag my old desk chair

                                                    Outside,

   Among the trees,

                                                          Stirring up the fallen leaves,

Frightening the earthworms,

Burrowing underground

While a gentle breeze

Kisses my cheeks,

With the scent of pine,

Clearing my mind

Of all the nonsense thoughts

That I have bought

With the labor of my busyness.

 

I heave a long slow breath,

And slowly melt into the chair

                                                   Where

I can enjoy the scenery

For the moment,

And

        just

                be

                       me.

Hiding in the Zinnia Forest

 Artist: Georges Rochegrosse - The Knight of the Flowers, 1894

Hiding in the Zinnia Forest

                   By Mushroom Montoya

A photo of a boy hiding in the flowers

Sent me back to 1954,

To our newly built Albuquerque house

On Boatright Avenue,

One block east of Wyoming.

 

A four-year-old boy,

a whole year younger than I,

Wearing clip-on suspenders

To hold up his pants

 

Walked across our lawn,

His eyes transfixed on the shiny,

green aluminum glass of water

He was holding.

 

I was playing with a brown rubber band

That had bound the morning paper.

I pulled it and stretched it

In every direction.

 

Until an idea jumped into my head

That lead

Me to shoot my brown rubber band

Into his shiny, green aluminum glass.

 

I did not know

That my brown rubber band

Would bounce off the rim

And sting his nose,

 

Making him cry,

With a torrent of tears,

That weakened his grip,

Making him drop his green aluminum glass

Onto the sidewalk.

 

Fear of my father's belt,

Fear of my mother's admonishment,

Fear of the angry faces

Of our guests

 

Made me run and hide

In the far corner of our front yard,

Behind the side yard forest

Of tall blooming Zinnias.

 

I did not answer

When my father called.

I heard my name yelled

Over and over

By every one of the guests.

 

I crouched down lower

When my mother walked by

Hunting for her missing son.

 

I dared not move

Or reveal my whereabouts

Because I didn’t want to feel

The sting of the belt.

 

So, there I knelt,

Hidden by the tall Zinnia forest,

In the corner of the cinder block walls

Until

 

My uncle searched

in our neighbor’s yard

And then peered over the cinder block fence

And into the forest of Zinnias.

 

He spied me crouching

In the furthest corner,

Making myself smaller than the flowers

That towered over me.

 

My mother was crying,

“We were so worried about you.”

I started to cry

When my father removed his belt.

 

“I’m not spanking you

For shooting the rubber band,”

My father said

Making me realize

The boy was a snitch.

 

“I’m spanking you

Because you did not answer

When we called.”

 

He pulled down my pants,

While flinging his belt,

Burning a welt

Into my butt.

 

But I must admit

That I am fond of Zinnia forests,

Although they are so much smaller

Than they were

When I was a kid in 1954.

 Introduction to the World of Shamans Class

7 Saturday afternoons
Starting March 4th, 2023
Cost $150.

Location: 7114 El Paseo St. Long Beach, California 90815

We are mind, body, and spirit.
In this class you will learn how to access your spiritual nature to go on a shamanic journey to access knowledge from the spiritual world.
You will learn how to use the gifts you have to enhance your life.

I have been doing shamanic healing for over 30 years.

To sign up email me at healing.shaman@gmail.com

Upside down Rainbow

By Mushroom Montoya

No! I won't go to bed!

I won't!

I can’t!

I'm not the one being naughty!

The rainbow is disobeying,

Breaking all the rules,

So mean,

So bad,

It’ll give me nightmares,

When the monsters

Will eat my eyes

Like gooey candy.

No! No! I can't go to bed

With the rainbow under my head

When it is upside down.

 

 It's not a smile.

It's a frown

That'll fill up with

from the swamp,

 

And drown me

In the muck

Where I'll get stuck

And cry

Until I die,

 

Because no one will look

for me

in a yucky swamp

If the rainbow is upside-down.

 

Please mommy

Don't make me go to bed

And put my head

On the pillow

With the upside-down Rainbow.

 

The sky will cry

When it falls out

Into outer space

All because

The rainbows disobeyed

The rules

By turning around,

Lying on the ground

And letting the sky

float away.

 

I can't go to sleep

When mommies will weep

Because there will be

No more bees to buzz,

No more birds to fly,

When all the clouds

Have gone bye-bye.

Please don't make me go to bed.

I don't want to

wake up dead,

After I put my head

on an upside-down rainbow. 

Protective Rainbow

By Mushroom Montoya

 

She did what she could.

I knew she would.

She stood her ground

Until a solution was found.

 

So, now I want to hug her,

Tell her she was right

To not go to bed

To put up a fight.

 

I want to hug her

and turn her rainbow pillow around

and tell her, "You're safe now

There are no night terrors to be found.

 

None could eat your eyes

Like oowee, gooey candy.

And that’s just dandy!

Do you know why?

 

It’s because you helped the rainbow

To stand up straight

And I think that’s just great!

 

Now that the rainbow has her feet on the ground.

No bears, or lions,

nor sharp teeth monsters will be found

Anywhere near your rainbow

Whose feet are standing on the ground.

 

So, now you can go to sleep

And dream of unicorns playing with sheep

Or you can dream you are all aglow

As you go flying over a protective rainbow.