Whisperings

    The old man sat wrapped in his worn blanket, back to the black emptiness of the night and his face to the warming fire. The glowing light danced across the creases of a face worn by time. His eyes were those of a man who knew no time---past and future meant nothing. The end of life was closing in and he could see his ancestors waiting calling gently for him. He felt their presence. Crossing the threshold would be easy when the time came but it was not now. There was something unfinished. Someone still needed his guidance.

    He reached for the flute he had made as a youth and with a long slow breath he blew. The haunting pitch carried through the clear night air to the wolf brothers. Far in the distance there was their answering wail. He knew they were always there. They were his family. The old one had guided him and when the wolf had past, with his head in the man's lap, the man honored their friendship by using the wolf's hide as a cloak. His whispered words had sent a cry out among the pack just like the flute did now.

    There was still so much he wished to learn from Earth Mother. The Life Spirit had allowed him to learn from all her people---the four-legged, feathered, the water breathers, the two legged and more the rock nation, the water and the plants. Some said he was a great shaman seeking him out in times of need. There had even been the pale people from far across remembered time that had come in their low swimming craft. Turtle island herself would miss his footfalls but right now he must wait.

    "How long, old friends? When will---" His voice trailed off. The aspens were whispering.  There were others there waiting with him. Raccoon, Deer, Fox were hemming the light thrown by the fire. Yet, there was a two legged, more apparition than solid flesh. The aged eyes narrowed and with a deliberate smile he looked at me. Not through me, he looked directly at me.

    I was the apparition here. I paced like an animal in a cage to small. Over my head the ghostly branches swayed as if moved by the sigh from Creation. Was I called here to the presence of this old man. What was he to me? There was the pull of the flickering flames but it was more than that warm light that shone from within the old man.

    This had to be my imagination.

    The old man's thought stabbed open my heart pricking like a knife blade in my brain. "This is not your imagination! How long will you hesitate? You think you are different. I knew when you walked with me as a friend, when we ran the fields. We learned together from the creatures that surround you now. You still carry a bag with stones, feather and a shell. You even call it a "power bag". The power does not come from the bag but you have not learned this. Your wolf had brought you here, yet, you still do not want to believe this is real. Your body may be resting in a place far from here in another time, but THIS IS REAL. It always has been. Your memories carry you where you need to go. You remember the stories, they haunt the corners of your mind. They rattle in your head day and night, yet, you do nothing to write them down. This is where you are needed. You have said the words, “the body is more than flesh---it is spirit.” When will you finally leave the shadows and become what you are? Come now! It is urgent." His voiced was deep and brown as they filled my being. " We need each other. You must become who you are supposed to be, who you really are.”

    Beneath my feet, the powdery dust puffed between my toes. The heady smoke was heavy with the scent of sage and cedar. I found myself drawn to the warming fire and the presence of this person. I sat down beside him and saw a faint smile slid across his face.
“Good. You will write in your language and I will teach in mine. Together we will tell the stories of the past, our past."                                        .