Dis-oriented (ECHO)

Because ECHO is based on a true story I had to go through a lot of self-evaluation and memory to be clear on it. The hardest part of this project so far was writing the exerpt below as it brought up some painful memories and things I am unsure on how to show in a film. So I am sharing it here with you, Dear Reader, so maybe you will understand.

Now that this is written down I hope ECHO can move forward easily and into the more exhilarating parts of the story, as we have only just begun.

~SMB

Mercury Rose, Age 18

So, given that the Native groups were a part of the college she was going to, and the history around the area, it was no surprise to Mercury when they told the new students that there would be some Natives doing a ritual at the New Student Orientation.

Happy for her new adventure she was on she went to the orientation. It was in one of the large film studios on the campus, right across from her dorm. When they first entered the Sound stage she was thinking about what films she would make there and all the amazing possibilities that her education would open her up to. 

She was expecting the things that happened, for the most part. A lay of the campus, how things are done, the grades, meeting your cohort, working through trust falls to keep the cohort closely knit together as they work through their programs. It was fun if not a little silly. 

Then the Native Elders came to the groups, and sat the students in a large circle. They hit the drums and started off a nice melody, a trance like rhythm that heeded what they were trying to do. They lit sage and the elders started to sing to the beat of the drum. They got out feathers and started asking the great spirit for help in giving the new students courage and stamina to get through their studies. 

Rose was not impressed. She felt removed by it, and a little on guard suddenly. although she looked around at the other students and didn’t know what they were thinking. Maybe they liked this sort of thing. She had had plenty of meditational experiences with her Mom in Los Angeles before, but this seemed very foreign to her. And she didn’t like it. There was something not right about it. As if the ritual and the race that was doing all this was so far removed from her she couldn’t even concentrate. 

She started to fade out of it and think about other things, like what they would eat that night, etc. When suddenly the three Elders got up, continuing to chant. They were wearing varied colorful wraps around their shoulders and had feathers in their long hair. Two of them had feathers and all had smoking sage sticks, the smoke of which wafted up and around each student in the large circle. Some had their eyes closed, most all, including Rose, had their hands on their knees as they waited to be ‘blessed.’ 

It was then that it happened.. with the air filled heady with the aroma and sage and other herbs, and the sounds of the tribal sounds, of speaking to their higher power and beyond as a way of lifting up the group surrounding them that they would have a wonderful college experience here. 

Each Elder came around to each student, smudging them and wishing them on their journey. When it happened to Rose, the elders did the required blessing. It was then that she heard it. She couldn’t say that the Elders actually spoke as she didn’t see their lips moving. But she heard a distinct voice from one of them.. ‘We know who you are…’ 

She looked up at them but they had moved on. There was no more chanting and the drums died down as they sat back in the middle of the circle. It was then that her eyes locked in with the Elders, all three glaring at her in such a way she couldn’t deny that they did know her.. know her deeper then anyone in her actual life had known her. She wanted answers, but felt a distinct reason not to, as if they would not reason their hatred about her what so ever. They left and didn’t look at her, in fact, nearly avoiding her. And as the orientation ended everyone crowded to get up and leave and she didn’t have a chance…  Plus the moment had left and I felt empty, and alone. Maybe it was because I was just me again… 

________________________________________________________________________

Dave R., Santa Fe, New Mexico 1992

I had become used to being with Mercury Rose off and on. It would usually happen when I had finished the days tasks and was around a fire, or finishing up eating; or the whiskey had taken my mind to someplace less desolate. I didn’t mind these times, and had come to enjoy seeing what she was up to, and how the world had changed, and mainly how it had stayed the same. 

So when she was going to college I was excited to tag along. I never had the chance to go. I know she wanted to be a filmmaker and a writer and had all these dreams. I had never had the time for such dreams as reality of the war had shaped my life the way it had.  Gotta say though, I wasn’t thrilled when I saw the tribal people standing around during her orientation. I was on guard and wary, as nothing good had ever come from them. 

So when they started chanting and drumming with the noxious weed smoke I knew something was up. This may of been standard practice but it made me very on edge. So it didn’t surprise me when the Elder spoke to her in that menacing fashion and I suddenly felt a rush of wind and I was gone, out of Rose and the stage and far away from the city. Time and space seemed irrelevant as I found myself falling fast into Devil’s Canyon, north of town. I crash landed and rolled in the sand for about 50 feet before I finally came to a stop, out of breath and completely discombobulated. 

It took me several minutes before I tried to move, and groaned as I did so. I was bruised and battered. And, well, where the hell was I? I slowly got to my feet and saw one of my trusty steeds grazing on some grass nearby. This place looked familiar, as if it was from a distant memory. I was pondering this as I grabbed the reins of my horse and leaned up against the tree to lite a smoke. 

But as I did so an arrow parted the air too close to my cheekbone and inbedded itself in the tree, the feathered end of the quiver so close it was blurry in my vision. I didn’t have long to move before there was a shrill cry and I saw him. I recognized the young warrior coming at me at a gallop and anger in his eyes. I knew immediately then where I was.. it was where it all began. And maybe where I, and Mercury both, had been cursed. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Mercury Rose, Santa Fe, New Mexico 1992 – 1995

After that very strange experience at the orientation Rose knew in her heart who she was. This other self, this masculine son of a bitch that helped her through things her entire life, and yet made things very interesting, was not only a haunting spirit or even a guide, but her past life. Reincarnation had been a theme for her all of her life so this was no surprise. But she had to explain it. So she started writing a script to encapsulate the knowledge she had. She met friends at school and with the help of one or two of them they came up with a concept. The idea was simple.. the main characters were in modern day Santa Fe walking down many of the dirt roads that were somewhat off the beaten path; and unwittingly stepped into the past. Mary and Rose wrote this together, playing off each character and really working through some characterization issues that seemed to stem from Rose’s other life. She swore she must of known Mary in the past. Mary, for her friendship, went along with this, but to this day Rose wonders if she was ever fully understanding the true experience Rose was in. 

She also found a friend who understood her or at least tried. Mary and Rose got along well and would pow wow around for awhile during those college years. She was also in the film program, and not from New Mexico. So when they had any free time they were either getting onto film sets to hang out with actors and crew, or hunting down the strange circumstances that Rose had explained regarding Dave and her past. They went to a hypnotist at one point, who was a native. They mentioned Dave but wouldn’t go into detail. But everywhere Rose went she felt she was being watched and judged. It made college and all of its experiences have a whole other meaning. 

During this time her past life was in the back of her mind, but his personality was much more distant.. letting her take the lead, as he had other things to deal with. 

A year or so later during this time Rose’s Mom became deathly ill and she dropped school to be near her for her last year of life. It was horrendous for her and this was when Dave really came to the forefront of her consciousness, giving her the strength to have a life throughout all this. But she didn’t give up her search for the truth. 

In between her bouts of heavy grief and loss she found solace in the strange thoughts her outlaw friend would say. She needed his help and didn’t know it at that point but he was there for her. He had had losses and had turned them into hatred and violence, but that was his place in the grand scheme of things. He knew she had to take a different tact. 

He helped her sustain her life, and your courage to continue in the life. But as her Mom lay dying she lost the everyone be damned attitude that she had taken towards her career, and utterly gave up. 

When her Mom had finally died and the grief was real.. and the world had change permanently, .. they would find each other again, in the frozen tundra of the great white North. 

by SMB & DR @wickedlydrivenmedia 2/12/19

Murder Site Visit: Part 2

IMG_3778
In February we went down to Lincoln, New Mexico for the anniversary of John Tunstall’s Death. The Lincoln County Historical Society had an event where there was a lecture in the San Juan Mission and then a caravan of more than 80 cars went up to the murder site to witness it. Spectacular day. Enjoy.

Below is the full footage video as well as the parts broken up into lecture and the murder site caravan.

Sorry for the delay in this.

Wanted to catch up on the historical documentation in conjunction with the Echo project before we have more footage, which is already in the works! So stay tuned!

JOHN TUNSTALL MURDER SITE VISIT: PART 2

(FULL VERSION)

JOHN TUNSTALL MURDER SITE VISIT: PART 2

(LECTURE)

JOHN TUNSTALL MURDER SITE VISIT: PART 2

(CARAVAN DRIVE & MURDER SITE VISIT)

by Sophia Bungay @Wickedlydrivenmedia8/2018

 

Murder Site Visit: Part 1

In conjunction with working on Echo and the entire story that will be shared in various ways, we had the opportunity to be in Lincoln, New Mexico at the 140th Anniversary of the Murder of John Tunstall, which sparked the Lincoln County War.

I hope to do more mini-documentaries like this in the future.. and part 2 will be next of course.

So enjoy!

and please subscribe to our youtube channel!

Edited by Sophia Marie Bungay @Wickedlydrivenmedia2018

 

Nogal Canyon – March 2018

 

This is the footage from the drive into my land, as meditated on in LOSS OF IDENTITY blog.

Lincoln County, New Mexico in the Sacramento Mountains.

(please for give the shakey camera on the road.. it was before I got my dash cam setup)

& subscribe to Wickedlydrivenmedia on youtube at

Wickedly Driven Media Youtube channel!

Produced by SMB @Wickedlydrivenmedia.  4/8/18

Inward Musings Turn to Outward Action

Dave R. (present-day thoughts of a ghost)

What makes a life? Is it moments in time that defines who you are or what lessons you are working on?

It’s true for me. Despite myself returning to life to help Mercury, I cannot remember every moment. Its the moments between the fights, the fun, the deeply intense moments of emotion or empowerment. Part of me must have left with the body I once had died.

Mercury has photo albums and books of letters about her past. I have but a few trinkets to remind me; tintypes, pieces of small tin, gold coin, maps, and a biography from a traveler, And yet, despite myself I yearn for more but know that my time is past. I am here to gain a better understanding of who I was and to help Mercury grow in her strength to conquer her fears in this lifetime.

With her one mentor and love of her life gone, and family estranged or far away, she is without. I am all she has as the darkness tries to envelop her. The other selves can help as well, and do sometimes.

Perhaps we can show her the heroine she truly is so she can succeed in what we have failed to do. And in so doing give up this seemingly never-ending circle of life and death and rebirth; waking up to the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mercury Rose (present day)

I have been meditating and mulling over these things for weeks while my body heals and I figure out my next move…a thought has occurred to me recently; that I have been living too much in my head and its now time for action. We all have to go and transform to truly experience life and all it has to offer us;  but I have been too much inward.

Talking to my family reconnected me with the whole of myself; as well as validated what I should be working on.

I have a plan now, and will implement it in the hopes of moving forward with Echo and Karmic Outlaw.. and then move on with my life into something new. A new life for a new me.

@Wickedlydrivenmedia 2/2018

The Traitor (Echo Diary #10: Dave R. / Mercury Rose)

(1880: Lincoln County, New Mexico)

I was riding with a gang out of Southwest New Mexico and a pal I miss now in more ways than one. I was at the bar, leaned over a whiskey when they first walked into my life. I believe it was in a small town in New Mexico, one that was wiped out of existence in time. A dusty street/ one bar town, with a dirt floor and plank bar that served the rotgut that I had come to need to keep my mind straight. It helped then, especially when my life I had built in a Northern town had blown up due to affiliations and bad timing.

As I sipped the amber liquid a tall shadow crossed the doors sunlight and entered. I half turned to see two men enter the bar and take a seat at a table in the room that a new friend was sitting at. They ordered coffee and my pal waved at me to join them. I turned at my seat at the bar, and watched them, but didn’t join in. I didn’t trust anyone new that quickly. My friend gave them info on the gang and had them join up. They seemed eager to prove their worth, but I was not impressed and pretty soon they were the enemy.
The traitor stuck to the lanky guy like a feeder fish and looked at my friend and me as if he was afraid of the hedonistic, rough we were involved in. He had tried to be a bad ass prior to this, but couldn’t hack it and turned to be a wannabe law dog eventually. Because I kept him as an acquaintance he was not clear in my recalled memory, but now I recognize his soul completely.
I can remember him now as a shadow that I kept the corner of my eye on. He wasn’t someone I was concerned with and knew I could take him down easy enough if I had the chance. I also knew the true terror he felt in his heart when he would look at me, the whites of his eyes glowing in the firelight if I moved suddenly. That memory makes me smile now, actually…
He rode with us for awhile, bent on his own reasons, which turned out to be whatever the beanpole wanted; to take us out and get the reward and notoriety. They both turned to the law when things got sticky. I was fine with it, had never trusted them and was happy when they left. It was my true friend that had a problem with their traitorous ways. But this traitor and his tall Law abiding man was nothing to me, no more so than some vague memory that I recalled only when prompted. He wishes he was more to me in his heart.. but he will always be the scared guy who helped the people take my pal down. Pathetic little life he led.
When we went our separate ways we ran into each other one other time, on a cold December night, when my pal and I were captured. It wasn’t the first time and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. I wasn’t too keen on heading up North to face the ‘consequences’ but I wasn’t worried either. Things tended to work out. (Actually, I think it was my cool-headed outlook that scared a lot of those around me, considering I didn’t look the least bit worried about a hangman’s rope, or the courts. But that is something to tackle another day.)
The journey North was a long one and the weather slowed the travel. Shackled to my friend in the back of a buggy it was rougher than riding a horse. When the weather worsened Bean Pole decided to stop for the night at a Boarding House nearby. There we slept through a snowstorm, played cards, and had a strange holiday meal with our captors. But I remember quite vividly the Traitor watching me closely and nearly panicking if I moved to fast, even though I was unarmed, and chained.
Despite this.. the worse thing that traitor has ever done to me.. was falsely identifying himself in another life.
Enough about him… he is dead to me and is of little consequence to my existence, then or now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(present day: Santa Fe, New Mexico)

Recalling your past lives can be confusing and convoluted at times. It is hard to know what to believe and who to turn to. I had extensive experiences, which will all come to light in the feature Echo. But one of the most profound experiences was when I thought I had found a very good friend from a past life. The old soul in me, the Ruffian, was open to the idea of finding one of his pals again. So much so that I allowed the falseness of his words to placate me and make me more open then I should have ever been. He came at me in my current incarnation as my pal. We connected and shared some memories.. memories he would have had being an observer of it all. Maybe his ego was so big or it was wish fulfillment for him, but he pretended to be my friend. We bonded over similar experiences and reveled in the idea that we were not alone. We even moved in with him and his family, for a few weeks, to bond more. There my true-self was validated by some amazing things, but what was a bit confusing and questionable was his fear of me and the way he would avoid being the same room alone with me, and didn’t want to dive deep into our memories of that past life. That’s what I had come to South Texas to do, to revel in each other’s memories of a life long gone.

Earlier this year I thought he was still who he had claimed to be, and had pretended to be. And I, missing my friend, my ‘pal’ sought him out, to reunite again and be friends, damning the present issues we had that had torn us apart for nearly ten years. In so doing I didn’t get him but reunited with his old family, the one he had abandoned. (Yes, he is the same traitor and selfish man he has always been.)
His old family and I are friends now, and they are helping with Echo actually, as well as the Border Ruffian project, among other little details. I had wanted to still meet up with the man himself again, to recall glory days and see what damage we could do in this one.

But, recently some new historical evidence has surfaced, that has allowed myself and the Echo team to figure out some truth… that he was NOT my pal. He was the shadow traitor that was barely a memory to me until his photo resurfaced along with a new one of me, and my genuine pal.
That knowledge has freed me from the desire to contact him again; although for a few moments my past-self wanted to do some serious damage to him. That has since rolled off me like water off a duck’s back now, and I am confident in the truth we know. He will not be getting much in the way of any attention in Echo, or the other projects.. and Dave? He is still looking for his true pal and hoping one day to find him again. If you’re out there.. we will reconnect!

by Sophia B. (inspired by Dave R)
Copyright @Wickedlydrivenmedia2018 (January 13, 2018)

Manifestations – Echo Diary #9 (Mercury Rose (present day))

So, I woke up early today. It was a bargain I made with my other self, my other side. If I ever want to break out of this fixed hold I am in I have to change the way I approach things. This was after a deep sleep and a realization that I am not just myself; I am more than me. You can look at this knowledge as a burden, to know what you went through and did in your souls past. It can be hard to wrap your head around. But once you come to peace with who you are, it becomes less of a burden, and more of an incentive to try harder and do better.
To me, he was a very strong man, in control of his life. Then he became my strength and along with it I was gifted his guilt, and I had to reconcile with him as well as his past, and mine. He has had much the same experience as I have had, although because of the place and time he was he was able to react to it differently then I am. He is my inspiration and focus, to work harder and better and not let other peoples agendas get to me as much as they would in the past.
He still yearns for his life, but he knows he has his own life; the simultaneous one he lives now. And maybe I am what he is for me in this life, I am his Jiminy Cricket is his head as he is in mine.
No matter. I am up at 6am to write, to hone my skills and to use every day to improve, strive and change; regardless of anything standing in my way. Echo must be done right. For the past few days, this has been on the forefront of my mind. That and whenever I try to sleep, lately he is up, working on what happened in a gun battle. He has been trying to get me back there, and I might have gone there ever briefly. To the point, the men with him may think he is quite cracked by now.
He misses a friend, one he only rode with for eight months, simply because we, years ago, had found a man who claimed to be this person at this present time. When he is here for too long he gets very lonely, we are lonely for someone who knows our experience of this baffling state of existence. I have found good friends who tend to say they believe my story, but who is to say what their true motivations of that are.. to keep the peace, to learn more, or to truly want to understand.
I think we, he and I, are cursed, or burdened with this task of knowing ourselves this well. If they are out there, still, and if we should run into them again I think they might be jealous, to think we have figured ourselves out so well. And instead of hiding our true nature, we are free and open about who we truly are. Echo is an amalgamation of the two lives ‘we’ are living now. With luck, it will help others know their true selves as well.
I came out of the reincarnated closet last week. Friends and family who I share my life with and love completely, don’t know. And yet here I am, telling co-workers I have known for a few months. To be fair I work at a very open-minded place, a college for the study of Oriental medicine; and within these confines, there are different belief systems then the ordinary; not that they teach that there but I know they are an integral part of it. The first time I mentioned it to a teacher and now a friend told me that she has dealt with a past life situation and that took me by surprise. She adjusted to it and came through it well. But I didn’t go into detail about her experience or mine. It was only after I allowed ‘him’ to be in the driver’s seat to help me change my life that he didn’t see a problem with telling these people in my life. They all took it in stride, seeing the resemblance in the tintypes, and verifying it with there own past life experiences. He is happy to be known and is feeling more connected to the present now as well as the past.
He was known in his day and is dealing with the frustration of hero worship that undermined his notorious reputation. But that is something we can remedy in time, in this life.. as we progress with all of this.

Thank you for listening…

Written by M.R./ SB & DR  (fueled and inspired by J.White music)

copyright @ wickedlydrivenmedia 2017