A TRIBUTE TO PAPA SMURF

It was a brisk night in New York as we stirred the flames of the lodge fire. We had been delighting in the singing of the Irish Catholic Priest who had joined us. A walking, talking image of Friar Tuck, he was singing us his favorite Gaelic songs to the little people. In between he would delight us with stories of his life in Cork Ireland. It was a grand night for one and all. He sweat with more than one Elder that night and each greeted him with great pleasure. The prayers in the lodge were spoken in a half dozen languages between them and the place lit up. Everyone wanted to get a big Friar Jim hug. By the end of the evening he had been dubbed Papa Smurf, based on his blue robed outfit, and his constant giggles that made everyone feel about six years old.

Jim volunteered to be kid napped for the summer. He went everywhere with us, sweating laughing, sharing old Irish tales, songs and his visions. It did not take much to convince him to dance with us, and what an image he was. This huge man was the biggest leprechaun on the planet. He bounced around the circle with glee and would trance like no other. He became our famous “speed bump” from dance to dance. His roly-poly body plopped in the center of the circle as we all danced spirals around him. He would giggle and speak in the many languages of his practice. We would hear him in Irish, then in Latin, then in English and on to Lakota. His songs flowed from language to language and his vision stories were something we all relished.

“An the buffalo’s were just a fartin’ and snortin”....” He would begin to tell his story and we all circled up not wanting to miss a single moment of his insights. We weren’t sure what they teach them in Priest school, but this guy had skills of many realms and he was pure magic to play with.

We all became quite close over the next few years and we watched and shared as many journeys around the wheel with him as we could snatch. Each place we took him as part of our crew welcomed him with storied of why they had left organized religion. He never flinched in offense, yet listened and gave tender perspective. The he would show his deeper magic that comes of such a rich love for God and self. He would counsel and share with a wisdom that never offended, but healed the many wounds of those he passed. He began to spend more time in our circles than in his church in Ireland, and soon he was Sun Dancing in South Dakota. His love healing a huge wound in those who had been forced to leave home and live in the Catholic boarding schools. He offered his deepest prayers to help bring some of the past terror to a new place of wholeness. He modeled for those folks that harmony of the nations could and was happening before their eyes. Each time he came back to Hawkwind and brought us even more delight and the same kind of blessings. His steps spinning around that dance circle over and over again. His voice ringing in the woods with songs of healing and harmony of all nations.

His last visit with us was live changing and quite profound. He wanted to complete his Vision Quest before returning home to Ireland. He had chosen to leave the Priesthood and was going home to retire in an old gatehouse at a castle in Cork. He asked if he could bring us a gift from the homeland to leave with us here at Hawkwind to always remember him. Being a childhood fan of Darby O’Gill and the Little People, we jokingly asked for a leprechaun. He explained that if he did that he would have to bring two of them, and that he had been afraid to ask us if it was okay for him to bring them, but it had been his greatest wish to quest with them on the dance grounds for a few days and nights. Of course we were all about it, without even thinking of what that might mean, or honestly if he could actually pull off such a deed. However, we were quite sure if anyone could, it would just have to be Papa Smurf. So.....

The Quest was the finest ever. There were quite a few folks praying together on the hill side. Each having a location in a different direction and far away from each other. Papa Jim, having set up his Sacred Circle at the dance grounds on the upper hill. However, as he began to pray, his song and voice started coming from every direction. He had reminded us to toss out shiny things for the little folk, BUT NOT TOO MUCH OR THEY WOULD GET GREEDY AND TRICK US FOR MORE. He didn’t give too many other rules about his small friends that he assured us were quite present. Naturally, the crew being the largest group of folks ever wanted to see these little guys more than anything in the world...so bright things got tossed right away. Soon half of the cars on the land had flat tires, air released. We went to move a truck and it would not start. Car keys went missing, glasses disappeared, laughter was everywhere. One of the guys was in the shower and reached for the shampoo that had been there when he closed his eyes, it was gone. The hairbrush was later found in the kitchen in the silverware drawer. It went on and on. We all laughed and laughed as Papa sang and sang and prayed and prayed. First behind us, then in front of us, and then back up on the dance grounds. He sang in so many languages we lost track. He prayed roaring big prayers that everyone in the woods could hear, and in the night he laughed and laughed with his little people. We all woke up with stuff knitted in our hair and little signs of pranks everywhere. Each of us wanting to convince the other that we had maybe gotten a glance at the wee ones in the night. Each of us being a child if only for one long weekend, we were free. We were alive and full of dreams and there was no school or pain that had beat us down. There was no shame or guilt. There was the freedom of a child’s heart. There was the assurance that a wise Papa Smurf was talking to God in every way to do a fine bidding for each of us in the camp. It was amazing.

We wanted to keep him up there forever and in many ways we have...feel him now. Yet when he came down, it was equally profound. He had a message for each of us. He sat for hours as our daughter tattooed his vision upon his back. We sobbed for days when we knew he had left us and we might not see him again, and we laughed when he said he was leaving his friends as a gift, if we wanted. UMMMMM could that be where the chocolate goes????

The last we heard Papa was in an Irish nursing home. He used to call once a month to pray with Cannunpa and connect and that hasn’t happened for about two years. The old phone number is disconnected, but I mail him pretty cards to the castle’s gatehouse and they never come back, so I am hoping he knows how much we cherish him, and each time we dance in the night we wait for those farting and snorting Buffalo to bring his spirit home to our hearts and we laugh with him in the ethers and remember how to be free, if only for a moment.

We love ya Big guy and we hope you get this message from our hearts.

Rev. Charla Hermann