A Mormon SKINWALKER is different than the tradition Navajo SKINWALKER. In the dark world of Navajoland...SKINWALKERS abound--out of harmony in pursuit of evil deeds. These SHAPESHIFTERS "yee nadlooshii"cloak themselves in the SKIN of beasts and lurk in the night. These unNATURAL creatures cannot mimic the natural gait of the animal they cling under. Many a Mormon Missionary out on the Rez have experienced the lurking of these creatures on their nightly rounds. 
Navajo reluctantly talk of such things as to evoke an evilness their way. Navajo mythology or perhaps religious tradition has a dark side. The challenge to is to keep in harmony with the natural world. Shaman or medicine men chant healing rituals like the BLESSINGWAY[Hózhójí] to repair the evil of witches and darkness. Witches abound, humans gone to the dark side, appear as everyday people but secretly shoot poisens (bone fragments) into unsuspecting victims. Sickness or mental disunion results calling for healing and rituals. Local witches convene in an underground room littered with corpses. At these meetings they may make a sand-paintings of the new victim with colored ash and prepare corpse powder with a male victim's flesh. They filch something of the victims then chant and bury the object to induce distortion. Bad hair in the morning could be a sign (no jokes).. 
A Mormon SKINWALKER is what I am. Something different. I have the appearance as the typical BYU stud. Inside the SKIN...however lurks a troubled soul...hidden secrets not spoken of in Mormon culture. Disharmony, dischord, disunion....finding my way in the shadows. Not accepted for who I am, not rejected because of Christ. My ONLY escape is NATURE. Here I find peace, harmony and non-judgement. Friends even follow. I have family. Activity and beauty overwhelm all superficialness. We swim naked in stone potholes in slot canyons...water falls off the red lips of cliffs and wash away the sins. The coldness or extreme heat keeps the SSA at bay. Naked boys dry off on sandstone with the piercing sun. Harmony, peace and non-judgment. Here I escape....my BLESSING WAY ritual and place of healing.
Culture and land and religion collide. One cannot hide in the rocks forever. The aged hard father hands worn and blistered rebukes all change. He did it the hard way...the only way....not unlike his father and his father who founded this place. They dug those first ditches.. They created a paradise in the wilderness knowing that the land does not give easily. Their dreams came to pass. My dream is different. My field to plow is different. It does not fit the cycle of time. I cannot tell him of this. I must follow his footsteps first. The soul remains empty and unsettled.... the place is good. Witches abound and shoot their poisen. Culture collides with religion. Religion collides with my soul. Red Rocks heal. Christ heals. The Cycle of life goes forward.
I RIDE THE BROKEN TRAIL with messed up hair
