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Robert Charginghawk

I grew up on the Wind River Reservation as a member of the Shoshone tribe. It was, and still is, a dangerous environment to live in. I kind of came from a dark place. I’m luckier than some, though. It’s like a beacon of light is always shining for me, guiding me to safety. I guess the source of that light is God, or the gods, or whatever you call that…presence. I carry this belief: Energy goes where it’s supposed to go. Energy knows where it’s supposed to be. My energy wants to follow that light.

Truth is, compared with a great deal of people in my extended family, my life has been filled with blessings. I served in two wars and committed no murder. I once managed to forgive a woman who stabbed me in the back with a broken liquor bottle. Two rattlesnake bites couldn’t take me down. Unlike two of my brothers that died in their childhood and another younger brother who passed as an adult, I am a survivor of a great many years. Nope, Here I am, well over 80, and death hasn’t grabbed a hold of me yet. Hell, I’m probably the only Indian my age able to use a computer. Even my own kids don’t know how to check their emails. Most of us still living on the Rez prefer the old-fashioned way, I guess. Suppose that makes me young-fashioned.

Nowadays, I enjoy writing and woodworking as hobbies, and I never pass up a chance to pound the drum at a circle gathering.