Riding Lightening! Speaking Thunder!
In Memoriam: Robert Ghost Wolf
By Sean David Morton

Robert Ghostwolf was sitting at his computer in the second story office of his home deep in meditation. A storm as wild and untamed as his own heart raged outside. Gazing out the rain streaked window, the blue white bursts of light lit up his bright flashing eyes and the corners of his mind, as he breathed in the smell of rain and the sound of thunder rolling through his barrel chest, shaking his great and mighty heart. All his life he had communed with nature. Spoken to the clouds, the sky, the Mother Earth and the trees and animals. They shared their life and voice with him, and he shared their sorrow, pain and concern when they all spoke of the suffering and dire things to come as a New World is born from the ruins and suffering of the old.

The storm, like a dire foreshadowing of the future, moved directly over his home as he clacked away furiously in a final burst at his keyboard trying to capture its thoughts and all that it had to tell him.

Suddenly, lightening, like the finger of God calling him home, raced across the wires, traveled from the modem, through the mouse and struck him like the hammer of Thor, blowing him across the room.

Hearing the crack his beloved wife Shoshanna ran in the house and found him coming down the stairs. “ I was just struck by lightening.” he said still stunned. “Somebody up there is trying to tell me something.” He was in the hospital six days having constant visions. He traveled down a tube of light and SAW his Elders, who asked, “What are you doing here? Go back. You still have some things left unfinished.”

When he returned from the Shadowlands, his hands and feet were swollen and he could barely walk without shortness of breath, and could only move very slowly. On the second day, hearing of his accident, esteemed Hopi Elders arrived, including Grandfather Martin, now 83, who rarely travels.

After 4 days of non-stop ceremony by his devoted friends, Wolf began to rally. Over the next 8 weeks he started to do some chores tending to his horses, and bit by bit got back to working on his computer where he finished, as directed by his Spirit Elders during his O.B.E., his final book of prophecy “TWILIGHT OF THE GODS!”

Like he was seeing everything from the Other Side,” said Shoshanna.” Everything he saw on Earth had become surreal. When he slammed the book on the table, he said ‘I am DONE!’ I only now see the significance that was his final message to the world. ”

Thinking he had recovered On Dec. 14th he took a trip to Oakland, California.

For many years he had been separated from his daughter Gabrielle, and their recent reconciliation gave him his fondest wish; to spend some time over the holidays with her family and his two small grandchildren aged two months and four.

While at Gabby’s house he called Shoshanna and, brimming with joy, he told her that he couldn’t ask for anything more. With tears of happiness in his eyes he told her, “I have a lap full of sleeping grandbabies!” he grinned, “...and grandpa duty suits me!” It was the happiest he had ever been in his hard knocks life.

That cold Tuesday night December 20th he commented on a strange stiffness that was running over his broad shoulders and down both his arms. He wrote it off to his encounter months before, rubbed his chest, asked for some aspirin, told everyone he would be fine, and said he was just a little tired.

Early morning hours on the 21st, The Great Spirit came for him, as a bolt of lightening struck the house and rattled it to its foundation with a mighty peal of thunder, announcing his passing with a roar.

He slipped off this mortal coil, joining his ancestors and the friends and spirits he spoke to so well. He died in his sleep and at last became one with the thunder and lightening with which he so often communed.

It is said that when an Indian dies that there is no heaven or hell. That he does not go into the light or the darkness, for both are of equal power and are the Male and Female of all things. He at last faces his true self, and, standing on the edge of Creation, casts himself into the Abyss. That a Grand Soul and an Elder’s greatest goal is to become a Star. A Grandfather. A shining sun, where all those he loved, cared for, or taught throughout his life would become planets around him. Taking light and life and heat and warmth from the glowing greatness of his soul.

Of my dear friend I can only say this: he was a man in a land where men are derided for their strength and power. He was a prophet in an age when prophets are mocked and ridiculed. He was a wise man in a time where all wisdom seems but pearls before swine, for in a land of fools ‘tis folly to be wise. He spoke the truth in a country where liars rule the world. He stood for the old ways and the ancient wisdom in a “Modern Era” that is hypnotized by only trivia, passing fads and moraless fashion. He was a mighty lion torn and harried by jackals. He suffered great hardship and the loss of his home to fire and the elements several times but always fought his way through to the other side, spitting gristle and bone with a hearty roaring laugh and a great smile through his blonde but greying beard, head unbowed, never once wavering from his purpose to teach and warn others. He rode the lightening and spoke like thunder. No one who ever met him or heard him speak was left unchanged.

It was Robert Ghostwolf that I asked to perform my wedding for he was a mix of Celtic and Native American himself, and he found a way to combine the Old Ways of Ireland, with the rituals and respect of his status as an honored Native Elder. For it is the Native American ways based on freedom, individuality and love for the land and the Great Spirit that work this Altar we love called America. Everyone at our wedding was moved by his humor, his great rolling laughter, and his grace and kind gentle wisdom. They still speak of the ceremony to this day being the best wedding ever.

His life was a never ending quest for truth and righteousness. Whether it was finding and protecting Native American ruins or speaking to the Elders of his own people so that he could speak and write their warnings in his books and tireless convention or radio appearances. He TRULY spoke as the Indian prayer goes, “for the winged beings, the swimming beings, the crawling beings, the two-leggeds and for all of those who do not yet know that they are people!”

His very life was a prayer, and meditation and an example to us all. And maybe he passed over at this time to help all those about to do the same. Or his MESSAGE for us all simply became too BIG for his mortal shell to hold.

Wolf...my advisor, my pal, my amigo, my mentor, my honored Elder, my ‘Father’, my...friend. You have joined with the wind and the clouds and now ride in the glorious hunt with all those who have gone before. I can only ask that you stretch your arms out wide and let the fringes of your Resurrection Cloak touch us all. For there’s a great new star in the heavens tonight and may its light shine down your guidance, humor and wisdom upon us all forever.