Riding Lightening! Speaking Thunder!
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,
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
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
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