From early childhood, I found myself drawn to Native Americans—a fascination that only grew as I entered adolescence. By the time I was seventeen, I had already set out on my own, making my way as far as Oklahoma, where I found myself living in a community of Kiowa Indians. It was during this time that I began attending peyote meetings with the Native elders. In one of these meetings, I met Horace Daukei, one of the last surviving doctors among the Kiowa Tribe.

During my apprenticeship, Horace would transmit portions of the healing powers he possessed, commonly referred to as medicine, to me. To earn the right to work with these healing gifts, Horace had me go through the vision quest, which typically involves fasting alone in the mountains for four days and nights without food or water.

Horace was extraordinarily gifted, possessing paranormal abilities. He was by far the most powerful healer I have ever known—or even heard of—facilitating healing that wouldn’t otherwise be possible, including cases of cancer, leukemia, and a wide range of other health issues. Despite such immense power, Horace struggled to effectively address his own emotional wounding. As a result, he went through a very destructive phase after a few years, which led to him losing much of his capacity. I have since reconnected with some of his family members, who told me he regained much of this capacity toward the end of his life.

Amid the chaos, I broke away from Horace, leaving me with a profound sense of disillusionment as I struggled to make sense of what I had experienced. Yet friends who heard about my apprenticeship would sometimes ask if I could assist them with various health-related issues. As my practice began to grow, I continued to struggle with the traumas of my childhood and adolescence, and some of my relationships at the time turned into painful reenactments of these wounds. Still, I felt something stirring within me—a knowing that the traditional Native doctors received the powerful medicine and developed extraordinary capabilities through the vision quest. I began to feel a profound yearning to return to the Wichita Mountains in southwestern Oklahoma to go on my own vision quest.

Woefully unprepared, I froze my ass off during that first vision quest in late October of 1993 in the Wichita Mountains. I’m just thankful it didn’t rain. Since then, I have returned to the Wichita Mountains twice a year, in the spring and fall, for the vision quest.

Every vision quest has its own theme. In some, I’ve relived the traumas of my childhood and adolescence, while in others, difficult and challenging circumstances I’d faced, and other more recent events would make their way to the surface. On the fourth night, I could always feel extraordinarily powerful forces working within my body. At times, it felt like a near-death experience, with the events from my past flashing rapidly through my awareness. I could feel these forces helping me digest my lived experiences, along with the cognitive and emotional responses tied to them. As the wounded parts of me healed and transformed, I grew increasingly resilient, accessing greater resources and developing new capabilities.

The weather in Oklahoma can, and often does, shift dramatically from one extreme to another. Powerful winds, often blowing from the north or south, can cause temperatures to rise or plummet rapidly. While droughts are becoming more common, thunderstorms still roll in, often accompanied by intense lightning displays, and sometimes it can rain for days. And then, of course, there are the occasional tornadoes—some with devastating consequences.

While I was on the mountain in March of 2009, the sun was out for much of the first few days, and the temperature had risen to sixty degrees. But the weather forecast I’d seen before heading up had predicted a cold front accompanied by thunderstorms. When I turned my phone on during the third evening to check for updates, the forecast was far worse than previously anticipated.

It usually doesn’t snow that much in Oklahoma, especially not in the later part of March. But as I sat there scrolling through the hourly forecast on the Weather Channel app on my flip phone, I saw the rain turning to sleet and then to snow. As I kept scrolling, I could see snow was predicted for the next thirty-six hours. My first thought in that moment was, “Oh, shit!” I then began to prepare myself.

It began to rain heavily around eleven p.m., with thunder rumbling in the distance and lightning illuminating the night sky, sometimes striking close by. At first, I was just hoping I wouldn’t get struck. The rain quickly turned to ice pellets and, before long, transitioned to snow. The wind was so strong, the snow was blowing sideways. I pulled the bivy sack over my sleeping bag and braced myself for what was yet to come.

As the snow continued to fall, I did my best to cocoon myself within the sleeping bag. But it was incredibly difficult to be confined in a sleeping bag for so many hours during a snowstorm. I shifted my position from my left to my right side, sometimes lying face down or face up, all the while my body ached. Bivy sacks are designed to be waterproof, but the one I was using was over ten years old and had some abrasions that allowed precipitation to seep through. Consequently, my sleeping bag and clothing were getting wet.

The added challenge of a snowstorm only added to the difficulty, but I thought to myself that I had already come this far and could surely hold on until sunrise on Sunday morning. I also reflected on some of the conversations I’d had with Native elders over the years, who said that one just needs to endure. There’s no such thing as canceling, flaking, or making excuses among traditional Native people who go through intensive practices such as the vision quest or sun dance. They would make an exception if there were a legitimate health crisis, such as being bitten by a rattlesnake. But aside from a serious threat to one’s life, one is fully expected to go through with the process.

Although I was wet and cold, I would pass out from exhaustion, reawaken, and then pass out again during my third night on the mountain. I remember waking up in the morning and thinking to myself, “I guess I’m doing okay here.” But I was concerned that the friends who had dropped me off at the base of the mountain would be worried, so I thought I’d better turn on my phone and give them a call to let them know I was okay. I tried to call a few times but kept getting an error message saying the call had failed.

It turns out my friend Nancy had also been trying to call me, but she couldn’t get through because I had turned my phone off. She had left several urgent messages, telling me I needed to come down off the mountain. Nancy became a little frantic when she didn’t hear back from me and even considered calling search and rescue. I’m so thankful she didn’t. I can just imagine all those men showing up on top of the mountain, with me standing there arguing with them and refusing to come down.

As the bitterly cold wind continued to blow from the north, the cloud cover cleared just before sunset. The temperature dropped down to twenty-five degrees on the fourth night. My toes started to go numb, so I pulled one leg up at a time, massaged one set of toes until they thawed out, and then switched to the other foot. I then put on extra pairs of socks and started looking for anything else I could find to add layers of warmth. I wrapped extra pairs of underwear around my feet and tied bandanas around them to hold everything in place. I also wrapped plastic Walmart shopping bags around my feet. All of these things helped, but I was still freezing my ass off and had to stay curled up in the fetal position for prolonged periods to conserve body heat.

Getting caught in a snowstorm evoked feelings of frustration, and I did at times erupt in anger. Although I needed to vent my frustration, I soon realized that I had to accept what was happening, conserve my energy, and deal with the immediate reality. I could then feel myself going into survival mode. Breathing into the feelings and sensations that arose in response to what I was going through from one moment to the next took me into a profoundly deep altered state. In some ways, it felt like being in a dream, but it also helped me break through my normal limitations. As that happened, I could feel a much stronger presence moving through me.

Native doctors among the various tribes have, for centuries, fasted in the mountains and other sacred spaces that serve as windows between the worlds because of the powerful forces that reside there. It’s through their interaction with these forces that they receive the gifts of healing, commonly referred to as medicine, along with other special powers. I can often feel the presence of these beings in these spaces.

The most powerful part of the vision quest always occurs on the fourth night. That’s when I feel the presence of other forces or beings working within my body and mind, transmitting the medicine that enables me to facilitate healing in others. At times during the night, I can feel these beings entering through my neck and upper back. While I don’t fully comprehend the extent of the healing taking place within my body and mind or the full nature of the gifts received, I always pay close attention in the months that follow to observe how these transmissions manifest in my own body, mind, and life, as well as in the lives of those I work with.

Getting through the fourth night was incredibly difficult, and I wondered how I was going to make it down the snow-covered mountain. My friends Nancy and Joe had agreed to pick me up around eight a.m., so I packed up my sleeping bag and bivy sack as quickly as possible and started heading down about an hour beforehand. The mountain is covered with all kinds of rocks, prickly pear cactus, and yucca plants. The cactus thorns are over two inches long and can pierce through leather boots. Knowing this, I had to be incredibly careful. I did my best to navigate around anything with thorns that could poke me or rocks I might slip on, fall, and break bones. With all that snow, I ended up sliding down the mountain. I couldn’t help but laugh on the way down. Fortunately, the snow cushioned my falls.

I finally made it down to the base of the mountain after thirty minutes and had to dig the water bottle I’d stashed under a juniper bush out of the snow. I had endured four long days and nights but didn’t have much time to drink because I needed to head up the road to the spot where my friends had agreed to pick me up. Needless to say, I was so relieved to see their truck coming down the road for me. Once I got in, they shook their heads in stunned disbelief that I had made it through a snowstorm on top of the mountain. Joe told me I should write about my experience.

The time after coming off the mountain always feels magical to me, and I often feel as though I'm suspended between worlds. In the days and weeks that follow, memories and emotions become much more accessible, and I find myself spending a lot more time meditating and digesting my lived experiences. I much prefer being in nature during this time, often alone or in the company of animals. They sense the power and are often drawn to me.

Since March of 2009, when I endured the snowstorm, I’ve gone through a few dozen more vision quests in the Wichita Mountains. The weather is always a challenge. The wind sometimes blows so hard it feels like I’m being physically assaulted. There are occasional thunderstorms, and with global warming, temperatures continue to rise worldwide. It’s not uncommon for the temperature to still be in the low 90s even in late October. During the hottest part of the day, I’ve had to strip down to my underwear and lay beneath the juniper trees to avoid overheating. Despite my best efforts to stay out of the sun, even covering my face with the fine cloth Sikhs use to tie their turbans, I still end up sunburned.

I plan these trips months in advance—booking flights, rental cars, Airbnbs, and so on. There’s no way to predict the weather, so I try to schedule during times of the year when it’s most likely to be tolerable and just hope for the best. I much prefer to sleep out in the open, and I do when it’s not raining. I assess the conditions using the weather forecast beforehand and determine what I need to take with me. Since the forecast is often wrong, I usually bring at least a rain tarp that I can quickly tie up to shelter from the thunderstorms. On those occasions when it’s brutally cold or heavy rain is forecasted, I have to carry a lot more gear up the mountain.

This year, I delayed my fall trip to the mountain until the very end of October and the beginning of November. The first two days brought temperatures in the 70s with a mix of sunshine and clouds. However, on November 2, 2024, a powerful storm system moved into southwestern Oklahoma, bringing heavy rainfall, thunderstorms, and tornado watches. Over seven inches of rain fell in parts of western Oklahoma, resulting in flooding in some areas. While tornado watches were issued, no confirmed tornado touchdowns were reported.

To say the storms were intense would be an understatement. I had set up a tent between two juniper trees and anchored a rain tarp above it. While the trees and tarp helped shield my tent, the storms were so violent at times that I feared they might destroy it. The full intensity of the storm would last for an hour or more before it began to settle down. Sometimes the sky would clear for a while, and during these breaks, I would get out and walk between the thunderstorms.

The most intense storm occurred on the fourth night, in the hours before sunrise. The force of the storm ripped the rain tarp loose and pushed the top of the tent, which normally stands about three and a half feet high so far down that it came within eight inches of my face as I lay on my back.

As the storm began to settle down around daybreak, I turned on my phone to check the weather app to see if there would be a break so I could make my way down. AccuWeather showed that the rain was expected to continue until noon. There was no way I was going to wait that long. Even as the storm picked up again, with rain falling heavily and lightning striking nearby, I threw on a rain poncho and started packing as quickly as I could. Everything was soaked, making the load much heavier. I began heading west across the top of the mountain, then gradually made my way down, carefully navigating around the steep, inclined rock faces and dense patches of scrub oak.

At the base of the mountain, I drank water and Recharge, a sports drink made with fruit juices and loaded with electrolytes. Once I got back to the car, I changed into dry clothes, made a few calls, and then headed down to the Airbnb I had reserved south of the mountain. With the deluge of rain, I was worried about getting stuck on the muddy roads. Fortunately, I had rented an SUV with all-wheel drive.

People have asked me on many occasions why I continue to go to the mountain to fast. Initially, I went with the intent of seeking the powerful gifts of healing referred to as medicine. My capacity as a healer increases every time I go to the mountain, and on many occasions, I have received additional healing gifts. During the many vision quests, I could feel the powerful beings working within my body, healing traumas and other deep emotional wounds. I could feel myself digesting my lived experiences and the emotions attached to them. Every time I go, I come out the other side feeling clearer, stronger, and more resourceful.

Children, adolescents, and young adults are full of life force, propelled by powerful generative cycles that enable them to continually learn and grow. Yet, as people grow older, many contract around the stresses of daily life, the traumas they’ve suffered, and other deeply wounding experiences. In many instances, these wounds never fully heal. I see how so many people stop learning and growing, and when that happens, they stagnate. To me, the thought of stagnating like that is especially dreadful.

One of my favorite quotes is from Albert Einstein: “The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know.” For many years, I’ve drawn inspiration from the traditional Native American doctors. The Native elders would often say, “If you really want that medicine, you’re going to have to go through some things.” I’ve also been inspired by those who have attained mastery in the Internal Martial Arts, such as Xin Yi Quan and Baguazhang, as well as those who have reached extraordinary levels in other ancient systems, like the Hindu-Vedic traditions.

For me, it’s essential to always be learning, growing, and evolving. The practices I do on a daily basis are a critically important part of this process. Whenever I go to the mountain, the extraordinarily powerful forces I interact with facilitate healing that I cannot fully achieve on my own. Every time I go, I’m taking the next big step forward on my journey.

©Copyright 2024 Ben Oofana. All Rights Reserved.

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