Spooky Yellowstone

While we were in Montana, on the way up to Glacier, we stopped for a few hours in the town of Livingston. Long considered the "gateway to Yellowstone", Livingston has had a long history of locomotive activity and tourism, and we spent time in their local railway museum. While there, I purchased a book about hauntings in Yellowstone, because I was not aware there were any, and it seemed like it might be neat to learn about them before we went there.

Title: Spooky Yellowstone: Tales of Hauntings, Strange Happenings, and Other Local Lore

Author: S. E. Schlosser

© 2013

Schlosser is a storyteller with a literature degree, who also developed and maintains AmericanFolklore.net, a site which collects folklore from across North and Central America, with legends from all fifty states. Her book, Spooky Yellowstone, draws on a wide variety of resources, including websites, newspapers, personal interviews, and texts.

The book opens with a map of Yellowstone marking places where the various sightings Schlosser recounts took place. I appreciated the inclusion of such a map, not only because it gives a visual of the spread of incidents across the park, but also because it makes it easier to compare to an actual map and find potential ghost-sighting routes. I wasn't able to convince my family to go ghost-hunting (we were a little pressed for time as it was), but we did pass by some allegedly haunted areas, which was neat to make note of.

Part One of the text retells 13 different accounts of ghost sightings, some of them modern and some of them hearkening back to the early days of the national park. My personal favorite was the story of a ghost train on the Cinnabar track ruts. While some of them felt more authentic than others, these were stories which on the whole were fairly straightforward tales of the paranormal.

Part Two goes on to describe other miscellaneous occurrences outside the explicable. Some of them resemble hauntings in nature, or, as in Fire!, examples of psychometry in action, with participants accidentally touching on a strong memory related to an area. Others were stranger, including one Bigfoot sighting, and one story of black magic gone wrong which was a bit too far-fetched for me.

Spooky Yellowstone was an interesting text with some stories that make me wish all the more that we could have spent longer exploring the national park. That being said, some of them also struck me as being a bit dubious. Was it fun to read? Yes. However, I would not call it a comprehensive guide to finding ghosts in Yellowstone. For me, it probably falls into that category of books which I liked, but did not need to pay full price for.

March 31st, 2013

I was reading a book today about the Japanese Tea Ceremony, called (somewhat obviously) The Book of Tea. To illustrate a point, the author, Okakura Tenshin, related a traditional Japanese parable. I so enjoyed it that I thought I'd share it here:

The Taming of the Harp

Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lungmen stood a Kiri tree, a veritable king of the forest. It reared its head to talk to the stars; its roots struck deep into the earth, mingling their bronzed coils with those of the silver dragon that slept beneath. And it came to pass that a mighty wizard made from this tree a wondrous harp, whose stubborn spirit should be tamed but by the greatest of musicians. For long the instrument was treasured by the Emperor of China, but all in vain were the efforts of those who in turn tried to draw melody from the strings. In response to their utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain, ill-according with the songs they fain would sing. The harp refused to recognize a master.
At last came Peiwoh, the prince of harpists. With tender hand he caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse, and softly touched the chords. He sang of nature and the seasons, of high mountains and flowing waters, and all the memories of the tree awoke! Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches. The young cataracts, as they danced down the ravine, laughed to the budding flowers. Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad insects, the gentle pattering of rain, the wail of the cuckoo. Hark! a tiger roars - the valley answers again. It is autumn; in the desert night, sharp like a sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass. Now winter reigns, and through the snow-filled air swirl flocks of swans and rattling hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight. 
Then Peiwoh changed the key and sang of love. The forest swayed like an ardent swan deep lost in thought. On high, like a haughty maiden, swept a cloud bright and fair; but passing, trailed long shadows on the ground, black like despair. Again the mode was changed; Peiwoh sang of war, of clashing steel and trampling steeds. And in the harp rose the tempest of Lungmen, the dragon rode the lightning, the thundering avalanche crashed through the hills. In ecstacy the Celestial monarch asked Peiwoh wherein lay the secret of his victory. 
"Sire," he replied, "others have failed because they sang but of themselves. I left the harp to choose its theme, and knew not truly whether the harp had been Peiwoh or Peiwoh were the harp."

I liked the story for a couple of reasons: the evocative language and beautiful description of nature, and that moral that those who do best are those who are humble. I also thought (did anyone else do the same?) that the description of the tree in that first paragraph could be easily employed as the basis for a grounding and centering meditation. Maybe that's just the nerd Pagan in me. ;D

June 12th, 2012

Strange things happen sometimes, and I for one do not believe in coincidence. Yesterday, after typing up the information about this Celtic Tree Month, Oak, my mom, Nick, and I went on a half-hour hike at a local forest preserve. It was almost time to turn around and head back, when we came upon a place where the trees hung over the path and formed a tunnel. Nick declared that it was a "portal to another world", and said that we must go through it. We did so, and nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen. However, turning back, I looked up and realized that the trees creating the tunnel were varieties of Oak. I was instantly reminded that the Fey protect Oaks, and wondered for a moment if Nick's claim that the tunnel was a portal was as far-fetched as it seemed. Then later, my dad said, totally out of the blue, that if something were to happen to one of the trees out front, he would replace it with an Oak tree. I feel as though I am being told something here....

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In other news, mom and dad decided to take a vacation this summer - we're going to Niagara Falls! We will go hiking, and also take the Maid of the Mist boat out to see the falls up close. Naturally, the Native American tribes who once lived in the area had legends about the falls, and indeed, the name "Maid of the Mist" comes from that folktale. 

The Ongiara people had lived peacefully along the falls for many years, when suddenly, many villagers began to sicken and die. The people thought that they had angered the thunder god Hinum, so they began to send canoes of food over the falls in offering to him. When that failed to stop the sickness, the chief's daughter, Lelawala, was to be sent over instead. As she fell over the edge of the waterfall, however, the sons of Hinum caught her, and wished to marry her. Lelawala agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to tell her people how to save themselves from the sickness. The youngest son told her that it was not Hinum's anger killing her people, but rather, a great water snake that was poisoning the water, and then eating those who had died. Lelawala was then allowed to appear to her people as a spirit, and tell them of the terrible snake. The villagers hunted it down and killed it before it could do the people any more harm. The river swept away the body, and Hinum turned the snake's remains into the Horseshoe Falls segment of Niagara. Henceforth, Lelawala has reigned in the cave behind the falls as the Maid of the Mist.

I am not yet sure, but I think that we are to hike to the cave behind the falls, and if so, I should like to pay homage to Lelawala, who, after her marriage to the youngest of Hinum's sons, became a goddess of the Ongiara tribe. She is said to wear a white doeskin robe, with a wreath of flowers in her hair.