chapter 18: the great mystery

8/8/2019 Chapter 18: The Great Mystery

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Chapter 18:The Great Mystery

I lay on my stomach, straining my eyes to see the movement far below me.

I had been on my journey half a moon or more (about two weeks), heading always

toward the setting sun. I knew if I continued in this direction I would eventually reach the great

lake that was far too big to walk around.

But right now my immediate concern was the movement I had spotted in the glade of

trees half a league in front and below me.

In these woods, in this countryside, one never knew who one would encounter. It was

always prudent to be careful and stay hidden. It was the Lenape way. Of course, it waseverybody elses way, too (except the Yangwe soldiers who marched in great noisy columns).

Flat on my stomach on a high butte, I peered over a rock to watch the valley below. After a time

I saw movement again. By the way they kept hidden among the trees, I knew they were Indians,

not Yangwe. I strained my eyes to make out their affiliation.

There, crossing a small meadow, three, no, five warriers. Mohawk! I could tell by their

topknots and leggings. Nature had endowed them with a height, strength, and symmetry of

person which distinguished them, at a glance, from the individuals of other tribes. They were as

brave as they were strong; but ferocious and cruel when excited in savage warfare; crafty,

treacherous, and overreaching, when these qualities best suited their purposes. I was observing a

hunting party, lightly armed and already weighed down with meat. That means their village isnot too far from this spot. I would have to be very careful. Mohawk and Lenape had been uneasy

neighbors since the beginning, for the Mohawk are the Guardians of the Eastern Gate of the Six

Nations of the Iroquois League. Lenape would always prefer to keep their distance from the

Mohawk. If we had to interact, we could usually do it without bloodshed, but as a lone, white-

skinned Lenape, I was at a distinctdisadvantage.

Better they did not know I was here.

I decided to spend the night on the butte, far enough from their hunting trails so they

would not become aware of my presence. Besides, I needed a rest. I had been travelling

constantly since I left my own village, stopping only at night. Two nights and a day to rest, on

this butte with a sweeping view of the forests below, might be a good thing. I would build asmall, hidden fire to roast a squirrel I had caught earlier. Besides, I needed to refigure what I was

doing.

What quest was this? How was I to find my spirit animal? Tho I constantly listened and

watched, I saw none but game to eat. And what about this seeking of knowledge? So far, it was

many days of walking, with few pauses, little food, and no great thoughts or illuminating visions.

I began to doubt myself. Perhaps I was not ready for this quest. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . .


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My mind was a blur of unanswered questions. This, I knew, would not work. Somehow I

needed to calm myself so I could truly listen.

I lay back down, my mind exhausted. Rolling over onto my stomach, I lay my head down

on my folded arms and . . closed my eyes and fell asleep. It was late in the afternoon; the air was

calm, the day was warm, and it seemed a perfect time to rest.

I do not know how long I slept there. After a time, I felt something light on my cheek. I

opened my eyes without otherwise stirring. Somewhat groggily, I forced my eyes to focus on a

string of ants working on the ground a few inches from my face. Two or three had broken off

from the pack and were exploring my face. I brushed them off, then watched, utterly fascinated,

as they righted themselves and quickly joined their friends moving tiny grains of grass toward

their underground nest several paces distant.

A thought seared into my brain: Why do I think I am greater or better or more industrious

than these ants in front of me? Who am I to presume I have more worth to the Great Spirit than

the ant I just flicked off my face?

We know that all these things are equal and no animal, including humans, holdsdominion over any other part of creation.

I heard Kistalwas voice again, speaking to me as if from the grave.

All things in creation are our brothers, sisters, cousins, and more importantly, our

teachers and friends.

Truly, this is what he spoke of! I did not understand it at the time. When I first heard

these words spoken around the lodge fire, I thought they were were fine-sounding words,

expressing a noble thought, but not really true. Now, watching these ants just a hand-width from

my face, I finally understood in some deep place within me what Father was actually saying.

And I knew that he knew the absolute truth of the words he spoke.

I suddenly felt deflated, humbled. Clearly I had missed this lesson that Father tried to

teach me. What other lessons, I wondered, had I also missed. At that moment, lying on the

ground watching the ants, I felt myself die a little. It was a strange, unwelcome feeling, that of

seeing some part of my strength and bravado slip away.

As I studied the ants, another of Fathers sayings came to mind: All things in creation

have spiritual energy. Yes to that, I said to myself. Then this thought: Strange, isnt it, how even

the smallest and most humble of the Great Spirits creatures have so much to teach us?

I lay still, watching the column of ants, wondering what I must do to ensure a true vision.

I had purified myself in the sweat. I had offered up gifts to Waka-Tanka for my success. I had

carefully prepared the essentials for the journey. I had sung the songs to prove my readiness.

What more must I do to have a vision? And what must I do to find my spirit guide? The

questions haunted me as I prepared myself for sleep.

Sometime later I awoke suddenly. I do not know whether I was dreaming or not, but a

clear thought had come to me: I needed to sacrifice something of great value in order to achieve

a vision.


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But what could I possibly sacrifice? I had practically nothing with me, just a knife, a bow

and arrow, a small blanket, my Hanna doll, fire starter, and my medicine kit. What? The thought

churned away in my mind, keeping me awake for much of the night.

When the first glimmer of sun touched my eyes, I awoke suddenly. I did not feel

refreshed, having turned and tossed all night, but I awoke with a clear understanding of what I

needed to sacrifice.

My hair.

I must tell you, I was very proud of my hair, overly proud. Unique among the Lenape, it

was auburn colored, not black. That was a source of great pride to me, because it made me

different, special. I liked being Indian, but I liked being different, too. In many areas of life I

was not as accomplished as other Lenape children my age. I was not as good a hunter or tracker;

I did not play LaCrosse as well as they, I did not know all the songs. I could not recite the family

lineage as others could, nor could I yet tell all the birds merely by their calls. But everyone

admired my reddish-black hair hanging down past my shoulders, which I usually tied in a tail.

This was the sacrifice I would make to ensure a successful vision.I spent the morning preparing myself. First I had to search out the mosses and grasses

that I would use to cleanse my bloody head after I shaved off the hair. Then I searched the area

around until I found a good, sharp flint I could use for a shaver. Dressed only in a loin cloth and

moccasins, I sat with my back to a large rock and offered many prayers to Waka-Tanka to call

for a vision.

Finally there was nothing left to do but start shaving my head. I grabbed a small clump of

hair with one hand and cut it off with the knife in my other hand. Carefully I laid the hair on the

ground in front of me, then repeated the process, over and over and over again. I purposely left a

topknot sprouting from just below the crown of my head. It took quite a while to cut off the rest

of my hair in clumps. I laid each clump on the ground in front of me, then felt my head with both

hands. Of course I had no mirror, so I used my hands to feel what I looked like.

It was stubble. Short and poorly cut, it felt like a field of maize after the autumn picking.

It certainly was not the shiny smooth surface that warriors were so proud of. Clearly this was

going to take much more effort than I first supposed .

Using the flint, I began shaving the stubble from my head. It was not easy. It took the

better part of the morning to get a completely clean-shaven head, leaving only the topknot

hanging down to my shoulders. Now my head was smooth . . . and scarred and bloody and

hurting mightily. I dampened a handful of moss and used it to sponge off the blood. It was cool

and soothing.

My scalp hurt ferociously even as the scrapes and cuts started to scab over, but I feltstrong. I had made a true sacrifice. Now I was ready. I had begun my vision quest.

Such a quest always is undertaken without food and with only enough water to maintain

conciousness. It is like dying, a little at a time. Sitting in the hot afternoon sun, I wondered if I

would be able to sit still here until I had a vision. I even began to wonder if, instead, I might die

here, on the mountain top, far from my own village.


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At first the hours seemed to stretch on forever, slowly, ponderously. That first day ended

and night descended and still I sat with my back against the rock. Initially I was intimately aware

of everything in my surroundings: the chill of the night air, my growing hunger, a Great Horned

Owl calling from another ridge, the distant rush of the river far below, plus the quieter sounds of

the night around me, and the sounds in between all those sounds, the sound of no sound at all.

Sometime during that first night I began to lose all relation to my body and my exteriorsurroundings. I had consciously torn myself away from the living, separated and stripped from

my mundane existence and identity, without a name and social conventions. By the end of the

second day I felt I was floating somewhere nearby, but not within that body there, sitting with its

back to the rock.

It seemed that my very skeleton -- every bone in my body -- was being revealed.

I suppose it was the morning of the third day when I witnessed my own dismemberment

by spirit beings. They placed my head on a plank in the longhouse and as I watched, they

chopped up my body into small pieces. Then the spirit beings cleaned my limbs to the bone and

scattered my flesh in all directions, so the wood spirits could eat it and become nourished.

Except that it was no longer my flesh. I no longer had any claim over it. That flesh nolonger belonged to me. Now I could see my own skeleton, but that did not belong to me either.

I studied the skeleton for the longest time! I looked at every bone, every body part. I

noticed how the bones connected with each other and how muscles made them move. In that

instant I understood what Kistalwa had tried to tell me so many moons ago:

All things tell of Waka-Tanka.

I heard his deep, clear voice speaking to me from everywhere at once. At the same time I

felt myself consecrated, rendering my being sacred.

Then I watched with interest as my disjointed bones became my body parts again, then

my body parts became my body, then my body became me, lying there on the plank.

That was the third day. By the fourth day I knew I had exposed my very essence, my

soul.

And it all made perfect sense to me.

So it still made perfect sense when I heard a high, sweet voice calling me to dive into the

lake and go down as deep as I could. The voice urged me to jump in, so I did. I swam as hard as I

could for the bottom. The voice calmly urged me on even as I clawed my way deeper and deeper.

Finally the water became too murky to see through, and I was running out of air. I had to get

back up to the surface, quickly. I fought my way upward until, with a choke and a gasp, I broke

the surface and desperately sucked in some air.

But what place was this? It was certainly not the place where I was on the plank. Now I

was in a high mountain lake, surrounded by beautiful tree-covered hills and flowers everywhere.

And there, at the edge of the lake, kws the Fox was jumping up and down and clapping her

forepaws and shouting gleefully.

We are so glad you finally got here, she called to me. We knew you would come. I

told them you would accept my invitation.


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She was so excited to see me that she pranced and cantered about, smiling at me, and

urging me to come to shore. I was equally excited to see her. Yes, of course, I knew this was the

same Fox who had visited me and Water Moon. I now realized she hadasked me a question that

time. She had asked me to come here, today. Back then I could not understand what she was

saying; now I could.

I walked out of the water and shook myself dry while she continued to jump about inhappiness.

I knew you would come, she said again. Her pure, loving, fox-like voice will haunt me

forever. Settling down somewhat, she looked steadily at me and said, You now have the

opportunity to remember what has been forgotten.

I had heard this before!

This was exactly what Kistalwa once told me. She waited for me while I thought for a

moment, then I asked, What have I forgotten, kws?

You have forgotten that Fox comes out of hiding at dusk and often hunts under the

cover of darkness, she replied. My keen eyesight is my gift to you. Use it to teach yourself tosee beyond your present situation and to see Spirit.

I was stunned at the simplicity of it.

What else have I forgotten, kws? I asked again.

And she said, Fox has super-sensitive hearing, so you may hear Spirit. Listening is often

more important than speaking. That is a good lesson to remember.

This, too, I thought was stunning in its simple gracefulness. So I asked a third time,

What else have I forgotten, kws?

Fox has a highly developed sense of smell, she responded, laughing. As an animal

spirit guide, I will help you recognize the subtle things in life and make you alert to unpleasantsituations.

I was humbled by her gift and awed by the responsibility she placed on me. She was

standing up and I was sitting down and our eyes met at the same level. Mine filled up with tears;

I dont know if hers did or not.

Is there anything else I have forgotten, teacher? I said after a pause.

Oh, yes. You have forgotten the most important thing of all. You have forgotten that

bright days and dark days are both expressions of the Great Mystery.

Fox pranced around, laughing and smiling, then got serious again. She said, Racer, now

you begin a new journey. It will be the longest road you will ever have to walk. You alreadyknow the road I refer to. When you walk that road in both directions, you will be ready.

Here she did the most amazing thing. Standing on her hind legs, she reached out a

forepaw and gently tapped my head, then my chest, then my head again. She had the lightest,

sweetest touch, and her foot pads were warm! She winked, laughed, and danced a little trot away

from me.


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Good bye Racer, Okws said brightly. I am with you always. Look for me. We shall

see each other again.

Then she was gone.

For some time after she left, I sat there next to the lake, my knees drawn up in front of

me. Ever so slowly I faded back into the world I had left earlier, before I jumped into the lake,before there even was a lake, before I heard the voice telling me to dive into it. Once again I was

sitting with my bare back against the rock outcropping, looking out from the mountaintop. I do

not know how that happened, but it did.

Nor did I know how long I had been there. Was this still the fourth day? I could not tell.

Perhaps it had been just a few minutes, or perhaps it had been a few days. It did not matter. I was

filled with the spirit of kws. And I was filled with Kistalwas love for me and my love for him.

chapter 18: the great mystery

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