Supernatural Magazine

The Old Man and The Scorpion

It was a late autumn day in the high desert just outside Page Arizona with clear skies and a perfect 80 degree temperature. About 9:00 AM I had been hiking for about an hour through Water Holes Canyon south of town. Being far enough away from any roads, that I could not hear any signs of traffic nor was there any air traffic in the area. All was still and quiet I suddenly realized this was something I had never heard before, absolute silence. Not only had I found a place totally void of manmade sound but everything was dead still. Not a wisp of wind a bird not even a bug is wings buzzing.

As I sat down on a rock the only sound that broke the stillness was that of my own heartbeat. Looking out over the endless miles of empty desert I was overcome by an eerie yet beautiful feeling, a combination of desolation and freedom all at once. Sitting on my rocky perch I became aware of that sweet smell of desert sage wafting through the air. I sat in silence pondering my life and what had brought me to this place in time, to this silent world of harsh reality and endless beauty. A beauty few men can understand a beauty so harsh so unforgiving yet at the same time so mystical and awe-inspiring. It had been a long twisted journey to say the least, a journey of hope and heartbreak of love loss and failure.

I was on a quest a personal search for truth and understanding of my own place in the universe. From where I sat it was near a curve in the wash with a high outcropping of rocks which blocked my view around the bend. As I sat enjoying my new found solitaire I reached into my back pack and brought out a banana for the morning snack.

As I sat enjoying, the eerie silence along with my breakfast, suddenly I heard what sounded like flute music coming from around the bend, very softly at first then it went away. It was not the sound of a modern instrument; it had the tone of ancient wood aged to perfection “I must be hearing things”. A short few minutes later the flute music was back this time much louder like it was only a few feet away. It had an eerie sound to it though, as it was loud it still had the feeling it was being carried away on the wind. But there was no wind, not a wisp.

Now I had to get up and make my way around the bend to take a look at what might be there. I slowly crept along the rock ledge so as not to startle whoever must be there. As I made my way around the bend what I saw before me in that sandy wash sent a chill down my spine. As if I had made some sort of a slip in time or crossed a dimensional threshold. He sat before me with legs crossed seeming totally unaware of my presence as he continued to play his flute.

He was a Navajo elder he had long grey hair down to his waist which was braided into pony tails. He was wearing what looked like traditional clothing although it was all tattered and dirty as if it had spent many years outdoors in the desert heat. His face was so creased it had the stories of many years of hardship and the wisdom of ages etched into his skin. If I had to say, he looked like he would have had to be at least 100 years old. Yet his eyes were so different they at once had the wisdom of a man of many years of life lessons yet they had the twinkle of someone 70 years his junior.

As I walked timidly toward him I said “hello so strange to see you here”. He kept right on playing the flute music he said nothing looking straight forward as if he could not see me. But the eyes gave it away though no other part of his body made any movement I could see in his eyes that he was aware of my presence. Once again I said hello and introduced myself still no obvious response yet that same knowing from his eyes that he knew I was there. I don’t know how to describe it but it was as though he was waiting for me. I wasn’t sure what to do I didn’t want to just walk away from him, yet was I disturbing him? And should I leave him alone?

Thinking that I had some more fruit in my pack I reached in and pulled out an apple and held it out to him. With my head bowed lower I moved closer and placed it on the ground in front of him. I bowed once again as I backed away. It was then I noticed the scorpion making its way towards the old man. Slowly it made its way around front to where his bare feet rested on the ground. The old man made no movement or eye contact with the scorpion until it climbed up onto his toe and started to walk up his ankle. Slowly the old man put the flute down on the sand beside him. He sat and watched intently as the scorpion sat on his bare ankle preparing to strike.

It seemed like time was standing still as I waited to see what would happen next. The scorpion sat poised and motionless as if some sort of unknown spiritual connection was transpiring between them. The old man his eyes seemingly frozen in time. Suddenly with lightning speed the scorpion stung the old man. The old man using his right arm in one barely perceptible movement grabbed the scorpion raised it to his mouth and swallowed.

All without missing a beat, he picked up his flute once again and brought it to his mouth. But he paused for just a second and before he started to play he smiled at me. He then closed his eyes and began to play that sweet music once more.

It is said that the sting of a scorpion has tremendous healing powers yet the venom of one sting can also be fatal. Death itself is a transformation of energy so that rebirth can occur. This is the energy of the scorpion.

I knew now I should be going that the old man was fine and my time with him was over. So I repacked my back pack slung it over my shoulder and continued on my way around the bend. I could hear the beautiful flute music as I resumed my journey with a smile on my face as I knew I had just encountered something very special something mystical.

Once I was just out of sight the music stopped, I stopped, and I waited, nothing. Fearing the worst of the old man I ran back around the corner. In disbelief I stared at the spot where he had been sitting no one was there. There was no sign in the sand that anyone had been there not a foot print coming or leaving the area. But there lay the old wooden flute now quiet on the desert floor.

I immediately ran all around the area looking but no sign of him. This is impossible there is no where he could have gone nowhere to hide and he could not have gotten far enough away in that short time. It would have taken anybody a good half hour to get out of sight. As I walked back to where the flute lay I tried to make some sense of what was happening.

Had he really existed in the first place was I imagining it all? Had I walked into another dimension another time? Symbolically the scorpion represents death/dying and transition as well as survival and protection. Was the old man a spirit guide sent to help me on my journey? Yet the flute was real a tangible piece of evidence I could hold in my hands. As I walked over and picked it up I suddenly felt a cool wind pick up from the north. Once again I became aware of the birds chirping and that wonderful sweet smell of sage filled my nostrils.

Willy Hassle

Willy Hassle

A radio career was born quite by accident when he was a guest on a local radio show. It was suggested why don’t you do your own radio show on the paranormal?

Well six months later came the premiere of Spirit Radio-the Paranormal Experience with Co-Host Lynne Nickerson which has grown to an international broadcast heard in over 30 countries around the world.