Very soon after Stella’s and mine wedding, I was awakened in the middle of the night by chanting in our bedroom. Our double accordion-style closet doors were open, and standing in the doorway of the closet was Geronimo. I didn't understand the chant and he never spoke to me. He just stared fiercely at me while he chanted.
I had always considered the Apache warriors Geronimo and Cochise as heroes of mine growing up. And although there are no known photographs of Cochise, there are plenty of Geronimo. I knew what he looked like and recognized him immediately. Although I lived in California at the time of the vision, I always felt a connection to the two chiefs through my Arizona roots. Although I was an atheist at the time, I always thought my vision of Geronimo, had to be important. Because before I began my spiritual transformation, I had never had any other visions except for the one visit by Geronimo. It would be many years later before I would begin to understand the significance of the visit.
My guidance began with an old firend from my days living in Lakeside, Arizona in the late 1970s. Through my efforts of crossing spirits, I had recently reconnected with Dona Jo (Borrego) Tuttle. She is the daughter of Don Borrego, one of my original protective spirits and a powerful force in my continued crossing efforts. Our families were close during out times in the mountains of Arizona. Dona was now married and living in Utah, but was very interested in my crossing efforts. She was fully aware that her family's special calling is healing damaged spirits. Her father uses her and other family members physical energy to help prepare ailing spirits to be ready to cross over.
Soon after we had become reacquainted, Dona Jo related a story to me that she was beginning to realize was the reason we had reconnected. She had gone on a weekend visit with her friend Julie Fawcett to another friend’s house in southern Utah. The first night there, Julie slept in the bed in the guest bedroom, while Dona Jo slept on a mattress on the floor right below a wide recessed window that had a long window seat built in. Julie woke up in the middle of the night with the sensation that something was fluffing her pillow, trying to get her attention. She asked Dona Jo in the morning if she had felt the presence of a spirit in the room. Dona Jo answered that she hadn’t been aware of anything. The second night Julie was again awakened in the middle of the night, but this time she saw the apparitions of five Native Americans dressed in buckskins and all seated together on the window seat. In the morning she said to Dona Jo that she had to have been aware of the spirits since they were seated practically on top of her.
Dona Jo still had not felt or seen anything unusual herself. But she did notice that above the bed there was a painting of a Native American. “Well, there’s one of your Indians right there,” she said to Julie. Then she sat down herself on the window seat and noticed there was a postcard propped up against the wall at the edge of the seat. The post card was of the Apache warrior Geronimo and three companions holding rifles and looking menacing. “And here’s your other four Indians.” As soon as she said it, Dona Jo understood there was a reason for what Julie had seen.
“Isn’t that a little strange?” Julie asked. “I saw five spirits and there are pictures of five Native Americans in this room.” “Yes,” Dona Jo admitted. “I really think someone was trying to get our attention.”
Dona Jo felt compelled to find out what was the purpose of the visits by the Native American spirits. So when she got home she sought out a friend of hers who was an experienced psychic/medium. Her friend did a reading for her and recorded the session.
It was the spirit of Geronimo who stepped forward in the session. “You are our Sister of the Wind,” he told Dona Jo. “We know you sweep out the dark corners of the earth at night.” Dona Jo had been aware that she possessed a healing energy that was utilized while she slept. Just as human energy is required for a spirit to cross to the higher realm, so is human energy required for the ministrations of a healing spirit, such as her father. She knew her father and probably her other spirit guides were using her energy while she slept, to find and help heal damaged spirits. She understood that was the meaning of Geronimo’s words about “dark corners.”
All through the recording, while her medium friend channeled Geronimo, the sound of wind could be heard in the background. Dona Jo was, after all, Sister of the Wind.
Geronimo said that a lot of the spirits of his people had remained with the land after death, and he needed her help in guiding them across to the other side. For the longest time she had not understood why Geronimo had sought her out. But when she had reconnected with me, she knew why. She told me that she had called upon the spirit of Geronimo and had spoken out loud that he needed to find Joe and Virginia Lofgreen, my father and mother, and that they would help to set up the crossing with me.
I asked my guides about Dona's experience soon after. “Is it true Geronimo needs my help in getting some of his people to cross over?”
“Yes. They are waiting.”
“Where are they waiting?” I asked.
“How many are there?”
“Six-hundred thousand. But more are gathering,” they told me.
“I wasn’t planning on returning to Arizona right away,” I said.
“You will return,” they assured me.
“When it is time.”
The time was in March, although that was not my intention. I had made arrangements for another crossing in Sedona on March, 29. I knew that crossing would be largest I had ever experienced, perhaps more than 200 million spirits. In fact, it would be the largest earthbound spirit crossing event in the history of the planet.
Before we left Florida, Colleen called me and asked if I was going to also do a crossing in Scottsdale for Geronimo’s people, as I had told her I needed to do. I said I wasn’t sure if I should or not. I was worried about the energy I would need in Sedona. Two hundred million spirits would take a lot out of me, I was certain. I didn’t know if I could expend the energy on another crossing during the same trip. Maybe, Geronimo would make sure the spirits of his people could travel to Sedona and participate in our crossing there.
Colleen suggested I ask my spirit guides about it and I said I would.
Turns out I didn’t need to. That night Geronimo visited me. I woke up and felt there was something at the left side of my bed. I stared at the area, in front of a sliding glass door that led out to the lanai, but I couldn’t see anything. But then Geronimo walked around the edge of the bed to the spot where I had sensed something.
He appeared to me considerably older than when he had visited me some 26 years previous. Like he had aged right along with me. And he wasn’t wearing native clothing this time. He was dressed in a baggy pinstripe suit. I had seen photographs from his later years of him wearing suits, but I don’t think any of them were in pinstripes.
“We don’t want to go to Sedona,” he told me. “We want to stay on our land.”
Actually, the last word I didn’t understand. He repeated the entire phrase several times, but each time I couldn’t make sense of the final word. Only in the context of the other words, do I believe it was the Apache equivalent for either “land” or “home” or something similar.
Anyway, I then knew I would make time for a crossing in Scottsdale before heading up to Sedona.
We landed in Phoenix on March 28, 2014 and drove to Scottsdale. I consulted with my spirit guides and was told to go the McDowell Sonoran Preserve, Gateway Trailhead. Colleen and her husband Fethi met us there. We headed out on the trail from the parking area. Stella stayed behind with her mother, who accompanied us on this journey.
Through my iPod, I asked what trail we should follow and was told it was the Saguaro Trail. We climbed on the trail for a mile or so. I didn’t know where we were going and wasn’t really feeling anything. But Fethi stopped next to a dry creek bed that extended off the trail into the desert.
“Isn’t this the way?” he asked.
I laughed. I knew immediately he was right. Fethi had never previously attended a crossing with me, but here he was more in tune with the Spirit than was I. We followed the rocky creek bed for a half-mile or so until it ended in a wide, almost circular wash.
“Oh, wow,” Colleen said. “The air is really thick here. Like it’s filled with plasma, or something,”
For my presentation to the earthbound spirits that had been gathered at that location, I wasn’t inclined to use a lot of Apache or Native American terminology or randomly call upon any of their deities. It would have been presumptuous of me to think I could learn enough of their religions or spiritual beliefs to be able to speak sincerely.
But for some time I had been including in my words references to the Earth, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, Fire and Wind. I did that because I felt Pagan and other worship of nature and the elements was just as valid a path to discovering God as was any traditional Christian, Jewish or Islamic canon. So I felt I already covered a lot of what might comprise the residual beliefs of earthbound Native American spirits.
I did, however, decide to incorporate two deities that seemed to permeate much of Native American beliefs: Changing Woman and the Mountain Gods. Changing Woman is actually part of Navajo lore, but Navajos and Apaches are closely related, and most Native American tribes have at least somewhat of an equivalent deity or myth.
Colleen later reported that when I first made a reference to Changing Woman, she felt a cloak or presence take over the upper portion of her body. Like she was fitted with a body suit and a mask with long flowing hair. Four single feathers were woven into her new hair, two on each side. And she could feel the wind all around her, blowing and directing the feathers, each in one the four directions simultaneously.
She perceived Changing Woman to have a fair complexion and light brown hair. When the spirits crossed, she could feel them wisp the strands of her hair as they passed by.
She saw many Native Americans of different tribes and nations. The gathering was not just limited to Geronimo’s Apache people. She even saw white settlers of the pioneer era that had congregated to cross over. She noted one pioneer mother crossing with a young boy and young girl, whom she understood had died of dehydration in the hills just above where we stood.
She told me an Indian guru had travelled from the East with fourteen thousand spirits he had gathered specifically for this event. These unique spirits from India were responsible for the thickness in the air and plasma distortions. She did not know who the guru was beforehand but said he had told her he knew me. He told her his name but she wasn’t sure what he said except that it included “Baba” as part of the name. I mentioned Sai Baba, one of my spirit guides, and she told me that wasn’t it. When I said Babaji, another one of my guides, she was sure it was he.
In the end we helped 5,613,560 spirits cross into the light. It took twenty-six years for me to understand Geronimo’s message and deliver on one of the things I was surely brought into this world to do. It was an emotional experience for me to realize how long the forces had been at work so I could complete this one mission. A video of the beginning of this event follows next.
Goyaałé is the Chiricahua Apache name for Geronimo, meaning "The one who yawns".