By Greg Jordan
Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Jordan, Greg. "Finders Fee." Quest 93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):52
Having survived a near-death experience in 1970, coming back from the dark side of the veil, I feel I'm no pilgrim when it comes to life-changing events. Sometime in the late 1980s I was attending a weekly traditional Lakota sweat lodge ceremony. During a break in the rounds, a question was asked: "How does one know which is the right path to choose when faced with a choice?" My answer was, "Choose the hardest path. In some cases one would be right and if one was wrong, one would learn a valuable lesson." Some people were shocked and warned me about saying such things in a sweat lodge. Two days later, while driving down a country road, I turned into a blind curve going downhill and was confronted by a tractor hauling a hay wagon. As I drove to the right and hit my brakes, I realized my tires were on wet rocks. Instead of stopping, my car accelerated toward a stand of trees. In less than a moment I knew my options were few: either pull out of my skid and kill the driver of the tractor, or crash into the trees. Against my own advice, I chose the easy path and drove into the trees. As my head was going through the windshield I was grabbed by two sets of hands that stopped my momentum, pulled me out of the windshield, and set me down in my seat. I could hear one of my "angels" say to the other, "I think we got him this time." I cannot tell you "what I got"; however, the scar I carry for the rest of my life is my reminder of entities that exist well beyond my five senses. That day was the last day of my life as a mortgage broker—business man and the first day of my life as a Native American children's story writer.