Sitting by Eagle Dancer's side, awaiting word

I believe.

I believe in Serendipity. Which means I don'’t believe in fate. And yet . . .

The word serendipity was first used on January 28 -- the first day of Run Camp -- 352 years ago, and are there not 350 run campers (plus Chris and me)? That'’s 352. Coincidence? Serendipity?

And, what of Pink Puffers? Where is the crossover point of fate, history, chance and destiny?

These questions, dear Puffers, drew me to Paradise Valley at the foot of Superstition Mountains, where I ventured forth to find the one man I sensed could provide direction on these issues.

Yes, I would have to miss a week of Michigan's winter and, worse, a day of Run Camp, but, as in the Meaning of Life, it's all in the pursuit.

So here I am with an American Indian acupuncturist/astrologer, Eagle Dancer, who has agreed to share with me important information, and when I have it I will share it with you.

This has been some journey, friends, but the fruits of my labor (banana and strawberry in a low-fat smoothie) have allowed me to taste life on a higher plane.

But I get ahead of the story. Indeed, it was 352 years ago that Horace Walpole coined the term "serendipity," calling on his knowledge of a Persian fairy tale, "The Three Princes of Serendip," whose heroes "were always making discoveries, by accident and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of." The name is from Serendip, an old name for Ceylon.

Ironically, the European culture never took to the word, and yet throughout the Arabic world, its meaning endured and spread, through the telling of fairy tales, to the Mayan and Aztec cultures.

On all fronts, though, its usage waned until the early 1950s, when a forerunner of the American hippie, Siegfried Mann, a descendant of the individual who received the original letter from Horace Walpole, wandering through the New Mexico mountains, told a gathering of Zuni Indians the tale. Their exposure to the people in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, led to its popular usage through the mass media. In that Zuni gathering, though, was a young Eagle Dancer, who meditated for 25 years on its true meaning.

He moved to the Superstition Mountains, outside of Phoenix, in 1978, and has been here ever since.

Eagle Dancer, a surprisingly angry man --– although that may have had something to do with the manner in which I interrupted his mediation when I located him Tuesday --– confirmed the strong bond between Serendipity and "“pink puffers."

"Sit with me, and in 24 hours, I will share that with you,"” he said. I did so, fasting with him. At the end of that time, he asked me to remain at his side until the message is delivered to him in a more complete fashion.

I continue to fast and await word from Eagle Dancer. When I have it, I will share it with you.