The Passing of the Sage
Honoring our family's beloved friend — the Apache Medicine Man and humble healer, Richard Rodriguez (1959-2023)
I got a call from Richard’s phone in October 2023. I answered quickly, excited to hear from him. “Hey man, been a little while. Good to hear from you!”
A young woman’s voice replied in a solemn tone:
“This is Richard’s daughter. I’m sorry to share that he’s passed.”
My heart sunk in disbelief. How could the man who heals everyone, be gone?
My wife and I had heard Richard mentioning his only daughter for the past fifteen years. (We are in Austin, Texas, and she lives with her two children in west Texas… a 9-hour drive away.) He was the humblest of men, and yet he did not conceal his pride of the fact that his daughter also has his spiritual gift. Vanessa is an intuitive and a healer, just like her dad.
Despite my shocking heartbreak of losing him (in this material plane at least), I remember a paradoxical joy emerging in finally becoming connected with her—a formerly-unknown sister in spirit. I offered my sincere condolences and made plans with my family to meet her and her lovely fiancé at Richard’s house. That night in October, we hugged, we cried, and we shared stories of how her father had so profoundly influenced our lives.
I was very glad to share with her that his presence & insights take up a few humble pages in my life’s work, Original Sin Is A Lie: How Spirituality Defies Dogma and Reveals Our True Self, and that several readers have told me how much they’ve appreciated his wisdom within the book.
Sadly, he got sick and left us. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go. This is the world of transits. But the most amazing fact about Richard’s departure worth sharing here is the circumstance leading to that phone call. After learning of the devastating news of his passing from the police, Vanessa flew into Austin. The next morning, waking up in his home, she received the passcode to his iPhone. According to discussions on Apple forums, a 6-digit passcode would take an average of 500,000 guesses, and the phone will become disabled after 10 guesses.
At 4 AM, Vanessa felt Richard’s spirit, who told her to sit up and get grounded. He reassured her that he is always with her, and he gave her the code. She unlocked his phone on the first try.
It’s simple enough. She needed to let his people know. How else was she supposed to do that? By him coming to her and giving her those numbers. You see, spiritual adepts are able to receive information from the astral realms. Call it whatever you like. As a creative, I like the term “intuited”. Most of the great musicians, painters, and even some of us god forsaken writers tend to admit that they ‘didn’t really come up with that piece’… rather that it ‘came through them’, in a sense. As Richard shared with me many times, we actually all have this capacity. To receive. To be connected with Spirit. If we’re all the children of the Creator, how could a single one of us be excluded from Their Love?
This past weekend we had a celebration of Richard’s life. My dad wrote the eulogy, which I lovingly read aloud to family and friends, gratefully including Vanessa and her fiancé. It is reprinted here with permission from Bob Peck III and Vanessa Rodriguez. I hope you enjoy.
From my first meeting with Richard I knew that he was special and that what seemed at first like a random assignment hadn’t been random at all. I was an insurance claims adjuster at the time and had been assigned to handle a claim Richard had filed for some storm damage to his home. Instantly upon meeting him I began to suspect that he was of a Native American heritage. In addition to his western mode of dress and ponytail, there was a quiet dignity about him that seemed consistent with what I had observed in both movies and documentaries about the various indigenous tribes. Inside his home I noted a collection of Native American objects and art.
As a student of frontier history, I was well aware of the conflicts between the Americans of European descent and the American indigenous people, as well as the indignities perpetrated by the American government and its army upon the tribes. So as we stood in an area of his home where he had noticed water leaks from the storm, I made a brief statement of conciliation that I hoped would serve to ameliorate whatever in the way of animosity Richard might harbor against people who looked like me. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I distinctly recall him looking at me quizzically and then clicking out.
I think most of you who knew him know what I mean by clicking out. He tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes as if he was listening to something he could barely hear, then he nodded slightly and opened his eyes again. He later told me that “the old ones,” as he called them – at other times he called them “the grandfathers” – had told him that I was alright, that I had no intention of causing him any harm or betraying anything he might tell me in confidence. That was the exact moment our friendship began.
And it was a friendship. Richard and I shared many a meal. We talked on the phone. He mentored my son and daughter-in-law like a loving uncle. He was a guest in our home on a number of occasions and was always kind to my wife and daughter. He introduced me to some of his Native American friends, and he met and dined with some of my friends as well. I even met his mother during a trip my daughter and I took to the Inn of the Mountain Gods, a beautiful resort near Ruidoso, New Mexico, and he occasionally shared personal information about his family and his past with me.
Of course, Richard also provided me with much in the way of spiritual guidance. He encouraged me to meditate and shared insights into symbolic events, such as the time I was walking down a golf course fairway and noticed a rather large snake crossing in front of me. Within seconds of my spotting the snake, a majestic bald eagle swooped down, stomped the snake to death and carried its carcass away. “That was a sign that God is protecting you,” he told me, and then he launched into an explanation as to the Native interpretation of the symbolism represented by the snake and the eagle. It was not uncommon for him to share insights like this with me, probably because he understood my fascination with Native culture.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, he performed Apache healing ceremonies on me, once in the hospital and another one months later as the cancer seemed to return. As proof of his strong connection to the divine, the hospital healing took place shortly after a procedure to remove some cancerous tumors. In the aftermath of that procedure, as I was coming out of the anesthesia, the female surgeon informed my wife Joan that she had been unable to remove all of the tumors, that what she had removed appeared to be malignant, and that I should get my affairs in order as I would most likely be dead within 3 to 6 months. At this point, I looked up to see Richard standing at the foot of my bed.
“Is this the one that’s going to get me?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. Referring to the old ones, he continued, “They’re just trying to get you to focus harder on your spiritual life.” Immediately after this brief exchange, Richard engaged those of my family members present with us in the room to assist him in drawing the cancer out of my body. Whatever they did must have been successful, because a week later, during a post-op review of the pathology report on the tumors that had been removed from my body, the surgeon’s associate advised that every tumor that had been removed was deemed to be non-malignant. That was more than a dozen years ago. If I hadn’t believed in miracles before, I certainly did from that point forward.
Richard was also blessed by the angels who control the elements. Despite the extreme droughts which have plagued Central Texas in recent years, his lawn was always green. This was made possible by small rains that fell exclusively on his property, much to the consternation of his neighbors.
On the same day that my daughter and I met Richard’s mother and other members of his party in Ruidoso, Richard offered to perform an outdoor prayer ceremony for us. It happened that this particular day was very rainy and windy. Undaunted, Richard guided several of us to a stand of trees that would afford some cover from the elements. The instant he began the ceremony, the high winds were stilled and the rains completely stopped. Then, literally the exact moment the ceremony was over, the winds and rain returned full force.
On another out of town trip, he and I and several of his friends decided to take in some horse races one evening. As we watched the horses for the next race being led through the paddock to the starting gate, he turned to me and said, “You know, horses will tell you which one is going to win.” When I expressed some doubt about this, he just said, “Okay, I’ll show you.”
Noting one of the horses toss his head back, he said, “That’s the one that’ll win.” Sure enough, the head tossing horse won. In the next race, he picked the horse that had wagged its tail slightly as it passed by. Winner. And so on. We watched maybe 7 or 8 races and he picked the winner in every one.
“You know, you could make a lot of money just betting on horse races,” I told him. But he just smiled and replied, “We’re not allowed to do that.”
Many were the times that I marveled at his powers and the universal synchronicity in which he lived. But he was a very humble man. Each time I did so he brushed me off, saying, “I’m just a channel.”
His connection to the divine allowed Richard to see things that others simply couldn’t, and he was able to have conversations with souls of the departed. For example, several years before I met Richard, my fiancé, a wonderful woman named Marcy, passed away. Marcy was chiefly responsible for my return to God after years of what I would describe as devout atheism. “You know, she watches over you still,” he would tell me. And from talking to her, he could tell me things about my past that he couldn’t possibly have known were it not for his communication with Marcy.
He could see his own past lives and he could see yours as well. Many of the revelations he shared with me served to explain my interests in this lifetime and why I had been drawn to form friendships with certain others I had known in previous lifetimes.
One of the most memorable experiences I will ever have took place at a powwow on the Otoe-Missouria reservation where Richard’s friend, George Koshiway, had grown up. I had been invited to attend by George himself, a very affable individual whom Richard always referred to as “Brother George.”
The powwow was an absolute spectacle with hundreds of attendees. Members of more than a dozen tribes were present, many wearing their authentic Native American regalia.
The occasion was a birthday celebration for George’s mother, who was considered to be an honored Otoe elder. There were speeches to commemorate the occasion, Christian prayers spoken in a Native chanting style, much drum beating and a variety of dances unique to the various assembled tribes. Collections for various charities were taken up and numerous gifts were handed out to raffle winners. Midway through the celebration, food was served in an informal buffet. As a sign of welcome, servers piled my plate high with food.
As an outsider whose only interest was observing the pageantry of the occasion, I had no intention of dancing, but several times I was either invited to dance by one of the females present or exhorted to do so by the master of ceremonies. It was like I was being honored in a small way mainly because I was Richard’s friend. Images of that event will stay with me forever.
The most memorable part of the evening for me, though, was the reception Richard received upon entering the building where the event was held. A hush fell over the multitude as all heads turned to recognize him. Those sitting on the dais, including Mrs. Koshiway, the honoree, all rose and strode towards him to offer their greetings. In a way, it was like he was royalty. At least that’s how he was treated, and it was an amazing thing to see.
I suspected their obvious respect for Richard was well earned by his devotion to them given over many years and many visits to their respective reservations and homes. The amount of time and travel he must have expended for the sake of those now honoring him was unfathomable, and seeing the reception accorded to him made me realize why he had such little time for his own relaxation. “I’m just so busy,” he would often tell me, and though I never doubted him, the looks of respect and admiration he was receiving confirmed a truth that really needed no confirmation.
Richard was true to his Native American heritage and often spoke of the importance of keeping what he called “the old ways” alive, meaning the old Native rituals and traditions. This, along with his healing work and the spiritual guidance he provided, was his main interest in life.
Richard was also true to himself. More than any man I’ve ever known, he lived for others. He served God by being of service to everyone who had a need he could meet.
Despite his many gifts, Richard remained a very humble person. As an example, for as long as we’ve known him, my son Bob and I, when mentioning Richard in conversations with people who didn’t know him, have referred to Richard as a “shaman.” Not too long ago, when Bob used the word in a book he had written, one he had shared with Richard for his review, Richard corrected him. “I’m a medicine man,” he said simply.
There was no pretense in Richard. He understood who he was and why he was here, and because of his natural humility he would be the last person to ever put on airs or represent himself falsely.
It’s sad that people like Richard are so very, very rare. I know that for as long as I may live, I will never meet anyone like him. There will never be anyone who better understands his purpose for being here as clearly as Richard understood his. I miss him now and I will continue to miss him and remember him and be thankful for him until I meet him again on the other side.
I have no doubt that most of you feel the same way.
So I will close by saying, thank you, Richard, for everything you’ve given me and my family. You will live in our hearts forever.
A moving testament to a great man. I enjoyed reading about Richard in your book, Bob. You and your family were blessed, perhaps destined, to cross paths with such a powerful and incandescent soul.
Beautiful tribute!