Little Bear

LITTLE BEAR

Jack and I had been married for fourteen years when he told me he was “tired of married life”. That’s the way he put it, as if it were a way he’d chosen to live for a while and was now moving on to a new, more exemplary, way of life. It had nothing to do with me, he said, as if that were reassuring. And, of course, there was no other woman. That part was a lie too, but at least it was verifiable. I was shocked, humiliated and disgusted. Also, furious with myself for feeling those things.

I had to get away, to find some peaceful place where I could think things through. Being an avid canoeist, the only place I could conceive of was the river. I knew I shouldn’t canoe alone on a whitewater river. Although these rapids were tame, there was always the possibility of a mishap. But I knew this river well. It was the one place I could be entirely alone with my thoughts. So I had to break that cardinal rule.

There was no doubt I’d been a good wife. I kept the house reasonably clean, cooked well, made sure his mother, father, sisters, brother and nieces and nephews all got cards and gifts at the appropriate times. I always asked about his day and listened sympathetically. Perhaps it should have been a clue that he never asked about mine.

The water slid silently under my canoe as I paddled with smooth strokes between banks of emerald green. The level of the river was perfect for canoeing, the water cold, and the sun hot.

I could imagine life here when the land was wild and unsettled: gliding down the river, feeling its power, searching for food, fresh water sources, perhaps a new site at which to re-locate.

As a lawyer, Jack sometimes put in long days. Being a journalist who worked two jobs, I even managed some free-lancing in order to help put him through law school. As second in line, my turn never quite came. Something more important always came up. But looking back, I could see that our marriage had always been played in his favor.

I sighed. I needed to learn from the past and to accept it as such.

In the days following Jack’s announcement, I tried to wrap my mind around all he had done, but couldn’t quite manage to grasp it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything long enough to complete a task. Burning out fast, I knew I had to get away.

But I didn’t want to think about that now, so I turned my thoughts back to those days long ago when the river meant survival. Now, to most people, it was a source of pleasure or beauty. I wondered what it would have really been like to live out here, to spend each day foraging for food, to be at the mercy of nature’s whims. Probably not the romantic life I liked to imagine. I suppose the problems intrinsic to humans have never changed much despite the progress in creature comforts.

I’d loaded my boat with all the necessities: tent, clothing, and food, and a dry bag stuffed with books, paper and pens. I had a spot in mind where no one ever went. The rocky shore didn’t look as appealing from the water as some spots, but I’d investigated it on other trips and knew there was a lovely small area perfect for my needs. It was just brimming with peace, quiet and solitude. I couldn’t wait to get there.

Rabbit’s Run grumbled ahead, the small rapid just before reaching my island, or what I hoped would be my island. If someone else were camped there, I would move on. Glancing up at the sky, I figured I’d been paddling about two hours. That should be far enough from civilization to give me some peace.

The rapids carried the boat through on its own accord. I just guided the nose around the rocks. Once through the rushing water, I paddled to the rocky shore with a deep sense of anticipation. At last, my own little corner to cuddle up in and, hopefully, begin to heal.

I unloaded the canoe and pulled it up high on the beach, behind some bushes. I didn’t want to leave any invitations out. It took a few minutes of consideration to decide where to pitch my tent, and a few more to level the ground and clear it of debris. Once I finally had my camp set up, I looked around in satisfaction. The trees rustled in the air currents and the water bubbled and gurgled over the rocks. I had my own little mini-paradise; an oasis of nature that many people had no idea even existed. It always amazed me that just a couple of hours away people dashed around the city, dressed in their business suits, hurrying from meeting to meeting. I loved the city, loved the power and energy it exuded, but sometimes I had to get away, to find a peaceful place to think, a place where the idea of solitude wasn’t so unimaginable.

I pulled out my rod and tackle and found a nice rock to sit on and cast my line. I took a sandwich and my drink. I couldn’t think of another thing I might need, except, maybe, my life back.

As I slid off the rock later in the afternoon, the sun touched on an odd marking. I looked closer at the rock. It was around the side and I almost hadn’t noticed it. There were some pictures carved into the rock; little squiggly lines to represent the river, the little triangles were, perhaps, tents or teepees, and a group of stick people stared up at an obelisk high in the sky. The sun? The moon? It was hard to tell. I looked around at my little home again and felt a thrill. I realized I was sharing something with these ancient people who’d left their mark on the rock for me to find.

The air grew cooler as dusk settled over the island; there was no heat from the fiery glow of the sunset. I had gathered wood earlier and soon had a cheery fire blazing. I also changed into jeans and a sweater and found comfort in the warm fire. I soon found myself dozing. When I awoke, I was startled to see a man sitting across from me. Yet, strangely, I didn’t feel frightened.

In the glow of the dancing flames his face was eerie and shadowed. He was a large man but I felt no menace from him. He seemed to be staring at me intently.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“My name would be hard for you to say,” he told me. “You may call me Little Bear.” His voice was soft and even, with a lilt that I couldn’t place.

He smiled vaguely. “You do not sleep, sister. You are beyond sleep for now.”

How did he know I’d thought that?

“You are the sister of the Light.” He gestured toward the moon, which hung, bright and almost full, above us.

“I am?” I asked with surprise.

“Your soul is troubled, sister. And I have come to help dispel your confusion.”

“I… I don’t know that you’re helping.”

As my eyes adjusted to the night and the fire’s glow, I could see him more clearly. He was dressed in what appeared to be deerskins and his dark hair was long and braided. There was a large feather stuck into the braid on the right side and it dangled down, the feathery tip pointing toward the earth.

“Why are you here?”

“You called to me,” he said, simply.

“Do I know you?” I felt my brow furrow as I squinted, trying to see him better. I didn’t recognize him, but he felt familiar somehow.

This drew another enigmatic smile from him. “You could say so. Tell me of your troubles.”

I don’t know why I felt so comfortable with this man, but I began to tell him of those things I’d termed in my mind as “The Betrayal”. Tears arose from some deep place within myself and followed an already well-forged path.

“We had pledged ourselves to each other, Little Bear. We made vows to forsake all others. Now he tells me he’s grown tired of that? I just don’t understand.”

Some part of me found it hard to comprehend that I sat here talking with this stranger so comfortably, but it seemed a far away concern.

He spoke again, and his voice was soothing. It touched some deep place with a healing that I couldn’t begin to explain.

“You are shaken within your spirit because you feel this man betrayed you, yet truly the betrayal was to himself.”

“What?”

“He made vows, as you did, but he did not keep them. He did not have the strength to hold those sacred promises and, by failing them, he failed himself.”

“He failed me too!” I cried.

“You are angry.” He said this softly, with no accusation.

“You bet I’m angry. He just decides to make himself a new life. He takes all our plans and trashes them. He has another woman and goes from her to me and back!” I shuddered and trailed off, overwhelmed by all the wrongs I perceived from this man, my husband, who turned out to be a stranger to me.

“It is good to be angry, sister. That fire prepares your heart. But the true cleansing comes only when you find the energy to let that anger go. When it leaves you, it takes those troubles with it so you don’t have to think of them again and again. They leave your dreams, and your thoughts, forever.”

I stared at him. It would take a lot of fire to burn this anger out. “We were supposed to have children, I was supposed to go back to school. Now my life is in shambles. I’ve given him fourteen years and I’m just supposed to start over from scratch? He’s taken my family from me, the family we would have had. How will I find someone and marry before it’s too late for children?”

He pointed to the stars above. “These are the only constants in this world,” he said. He dug his fingers into the sand, letting it trickle back down. “And this, the earth. But these things are not forever either, sister. Your destiny is guiding you where you need to be. Don’t fight it, embrace it. Think upon your anger and on the things you have learned these last fourteen years.”

I awoke to a snapping sound, unsure of where I was. The sound came from the dying embers of my fire. Facing the daylight alone I began to wonder about my sanity. Was I having hallucinations? Vivid dreams? And why a Native American? Why not a Hindu monk or some such ageless source of wisdom? I stared across the fire where Little Bear had sat. Had I been dreaming? I rubbed my eyes. He told me to think about my anger. I hadn’t even realized I was so angry.

But, dammit, I had good reason to be angry. Jack used me, cheated on me and behaved as if our entire marriage meant nothing to him.

I pulled out a granola bar and unwrapped it. Chewing my breakfast thoughtfully, I pondered the puzzle. I realized, with a bit of a start, that I wasn’t feeling so desperate anymore.

I took out my journal and began to write of the previous night’s conversation, or at least as much of it as I could remember. I also included everything I saw, such as the way the firelight reflected off of Little Bear’s skin, his eyes, even his teeth; anything that made him more real.

Time to go to the next step, I thought to myself. I’m avoiding my “lesson”. I snapped the journal shut and crossed my arms over my chest. I began to pick through the mountain of destruction that made up my memories for the last fourteen years.

Oh, why is this so hard? I thought. Because he destroyed my memories, they’re all false! All that time I thought we’d had a good marriage and he was doing other things. God knows what.

Shaking my head, I tried to think practically. Do I need Jack to make it or can I live on my own? That’s easy. I have a job and make fair money, it might be a step down from a big house but I’d make it just fine. I could manage to buy a small house or maybe a condo. I certainly wouldn’t starve. What about our friends? I sighed. Guess I’ll find out who my real friends are.

As the sun rose higher so did the temperature. I changed back into my shorts and t-shirt, and then drew out my reel only to discover a tremendous tangle. Settling down on an outcropping of rocks, I dangled my feet in the water and went to work on it. My fingers flew nimbly over the line but my mind went in an entirely different direction.

Why did I marry Jack? He was attractive, certainly, but I’d known and dated attractive men before.

What made me settle on him? He never seemed to be really interested in the things that interested me. He aspired to be an attorney, like my father. Did I equate him with my Dad? See him as a challenge? Winning Dad’s approval had always seemed an unattainable goal. Did I switch my efforts to Jack?

I realized that thinking of Dad made my chest tighten. It wasn’t only that he didn’t approve of my journalism, although that had certainly been an issue between us, but he’d never approved of any of my goals. Nothing was ever good enough for him.

That was too painful. I turned my complete attention to the stubborn knot that twisted sullenly in my fingers.

Once that task was accomplished, I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes. The water gurgling over the rocks nearby soon lulled me to a deep and dreamless sleep. When I awoke, it was afternoon. The tree had saved me from a bad sunburn, although I noticed ,with dismay, that my legs were pretty red. Then with a laugh I realized no one would see them but me anyway. I got up and began to make my evening meal, enjoying the solitude of the little enclave.

Later, I lay back, searching the stars for the source of truth. Turning toward the fire, I saw him sitting where he had the night before. He regarded me quietly. I didn’t feel startled at all. It was as if I had been expecting him. I guess I had.

“Have you searched your heart, sister?”

“Yes, Little Bear. I’ve been seeking answers throughout the day.”

“What did you find?” He seemed genuinely curious.

I hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m right with this, but I think I was too young when we married.”

“Our maidens were joined in their twelfth summer.” He said this only as a statement of fact.

I smiled, wanly. “I think the girls in your culture were wise beyond their years, Little Bear. For us, twelve years is still considered a child.”

He nodded. “Yes, continue with your discovery.”

I thought for a moment. Little Bear’s society was so different from my own, could he really understand?

“I understand, sister, continue.” He smiled warmly.

For some reason that I couldn’t fathom, I no longer found it strange that he could read my thoughts.

“He’s so much like my father. I think that’s why I chose him. My father…” I had to close my eyes to settle my thoughts. “My father never cared what I thought or felt. He hardly knew I was there except to disapprove of everything I did.”

“And you tried hard to please your father?”

“Oh, yes. At first. Then I tried to be outrageous. Anything to get his attention, but that didn’t work well either.”

“And so you still try to please him?”

That shook me up. “My father died five years ago.”

He looked at me for a moment with only a hint of a smile. “That makes it harder, does it not?”

I opened my mouth to speak but he silenced me with a gesture. “Think on that, little sister.” And he was gone.
I looked up at the cold light of the many stars and shivered.

The next day dawned warm and hazy, the clouds heavy with rain.

Thunderstorms this afternoon, I thought. Better get the camp ready. I spent the morning actively, putting up the rain fly, moving everything into the tent, and securing the canoe. I stockpiled a tall stack of wood and covered it with a tarp. The wind had already picked up, ruffling the grasses and rattling the leaves.

A huge raindrop splashed on my head, then one on my arm. I dashed into the tent and soon rain poured like a curtain, obliterating everything. Thunder clapped over my head, making the entire island vibrate. Lightning split the sky.

I snuggled down into my sleeping bag and let the fury of the storm batter my thoughts. Anger coursed through my veins like molten lead. My heart pounded and my head began to ache. With a moan, I lowered my head into my hands. My tears joined the raindrops and I felt as one with the storm. As the squall began to ebb, so did my grief.

What am I doing, I thought. Will it hurt him if I have a heart attack or something? I wiped my face and drew open the door to the tent. A cool breeze filtered in; the sun was breaking through the clouds.

I watched the dark clouds rolling away, and then I began to laugh, suddenly feeling so free. Oh God, I thought, what am I doing? I’m all grown up; I can take care of me! I don’t need him. I’m sorry it worked out like this, disappointed that he ended things like this, but I can’t control him. I can only control myself. The things I’ve learned about myself are important. I looked into the clearing sky again. I can let this go! I was amazed at how much lighter I felt. The anger had only been hurting me. It was pointless and destructive. My gratitude to Little Bear for leading me down the path to the point where I could relinquish it was great. I decided I would go home tomorrow. I had no more need of the island just now. Packing up everything that I wouldn’t need tonight or in the morning took up the rest of the afternoon.

I was sure glad I’d thought to cover the wood because everything on the island was soaked.

I sat at the fire watching and waiting, hoping Little Bear would arrive soon. Feeling suffused with hope, ready to move on with my life, I wanted to tell him about my new discoveries. Sadness etched the margin of my feelings too, for I’d be telling him goodbye.

The night grew late and still he didn’t arrive, my eyes grew heavy and I began to drift away. I floated toward the sweet release of sleep, but then something pulled me back.

“Moon daughter…?” It was Little Bear’s voice, tugging me back to the night.

I opened my eyes, groggily. “Why do you call me that?”.

His face was filled with wisdom “Because you are so fair, your skin glows in the firelight as does the face of the moon in the night sky. And my skin is as dark as the moon when she turns her back to the earth and we only see her outline etched overhead. So we are as sister and brother, opposite parts of the same thing.

I sat up quickly, remembering what I wanted to tell him. “Little Bear, my anger is gone!” I told him of the storm and my enlightenment through it.

Little Bear beamed happily at me, then gave me an odd look.

“What is it?”

“This is good, sister. There is only one more thing you need to do. You may find it difficult…”

“What is it?” I felt ready to take on the world.

“You have forgiven him in your heart, but to make it so you must tell him.”

I felt my chin drop and suddenly realized in that flashing instant that Little Bear was right. No matter what I felt within myself, it had to go beyond me to become real.

A streak of resistance filled my being at that suggestion, then it dropped away and I sighed. “You’re right, Little Bear.” I nodded in affirmation of my newfound freedom.

I stared at him for a few moments. “I have to go home tomorrow Little Bear. I hate to leave you.”

He looked at me for a long moment, and then stood on his side of the fire, as I stood on mine. He reached his hand out over the heat of the flames. I reached toward him and our fingertips met.

“It is good, sister. Our time here is finished. We will be together again, another time.” And suddenly I was alone beneath the mystery of the stars and in the light of the fullest moon I’d ever seen.

THE END

By S. Tilghman Hawthorne