In her instinctive way she blurted out, “My father thinks I am.”
Wisdom picked her up with a finger and a thumb, as if she were an undesirable bug. She dangled over his chest. “Tuksook. Do not speak again unless I give you permission. You fail to listen. Now, LISTEN.” Wisdom put her back down in the same place where she’d been standing.
Tuksook lowered her head as low as she could, stretching her neck, she knelt beside Wisdom on the second step, scarcely breathing.
“You resent your father’s authority. I tell you, I am the one with authority over you. I give him permission to have authority over you even as he has given Gumui permission to have authority over you. You are too blind and ignorant to realize that you need People to have authority over you, because of your childish self-centeredness. I didn’t choose to use you because you’re smart or clever. I chose to use you because I chose you. You did nothing to earn it or deserve it. Is that clear?”
Tuksook nodded.
“I did not choose you because you are special and, you are not special because I chose you. Is that clear?”
Tuksook nodded.
Wisdom said, “You think Ki’ti was special because she became Wise One?”
Tuksook started to reply, but she remembered not to speak, looked up at Wisdom, and nodded affirmatively. She felt pressed to the earth, as if a mammoth foot stood atop her back, so she unfolded herself from kneeling on the second step to lying on her belly on the step.
“Ki’ti was not useful to me until she lost most of her self-centered pride. She and you are not more special than others. That is not my way. She was far easier to reach than you, but she was not easy. That is a condemnation of your way and hers. I could choose a rock to deliver the information to the People. I could choose a bison or a cloud. In this case, I chose you. Ki’ti would be heartbroken to know of your self-centeredness. She is, after all, your ancestor.”
Tuksook was ripped apart. She hurt too greatly to cry. She felt as if all that lay within her had been vomited to the earth. She wondered whether this is how it felt to die.
“No,” Wisdom said flatly.
Tuksook crept quietly to the ground where she continued to lie flat upon her belly. She felt completely empty and did not understand the “No.” She looked at the dark blue ground which seemed to move below the surface in a spiral.
“No, this is not what it is to die. Death is nothing but a new beginning in the spirit world and is nothing to fear. What faces you now—that is something to fear. What if by your flippant responses, I chose to let you and Gumui return to a place where all the People had perished?”
She looked at Wisdom. The terror on Tuksook’s face spoke much.
“Your People depend on you NOW,” Wisdom thundered. “What happens many years from now depends on what you do this day.”
Tuksook trembled uncontrollably. She coughed quietly. The spiral below her seemed to gain width and depth. The speed of its rotation slightly increased.
“Their survival depends on you from now until the day you die. Do you finally understand what this means?”
She raised her head, nodded, and looked directly into Wisdom’s eyes.
“I will speak to them through you. They must respect you to respect me. You lost respect for your father. All have forgiven him and freed their mind webs of his error except you. Why? Because you have more awareness of the responsibility that lies on the shoulders of the Wise One. It is no light responsibility I have given you. I don’t have to ask your permission to give it to you. You have to receive it. Tuksook, you must become a person the People can trust to do what’s right—now and always. The People must know that you represent me. You cannot do that, if you put yourself first even for a moment. You just saw what happened when your father made a judgment that came from him, not me. Fail to prepare and that’s what will become of you. The time for you to prepare is now. You have put it off too long. Your father is fully able to prepare you. I have spoken.”
Tuksook lay on the ground face down. She was fully broken.
After long silence, Wisdom said, “Tuksook stand.”
Slowly, she stood. She was near Wisdom’s feet, standing on the blue ground. “On this trek, Gumui will learn much for the hunters. You will learn much of what I expect from you. You may speak.”
“I love you, Wisdom,” Tuksook admitted sincerely.
“I know,” came the reply, as if from the voice of great waters. Wisdom’s face was calm, filled with compassion. “I love you, Tuksook.”
Tuksook nodded and lowered her head. Slowly she returned to the meadow. Tuksook was no longer seated. She lay on her back. She wondered how she changed position. She moved slightly to find Gumui’s hand on her belly, pressing down, cautioning her. Tuksook opened her eyes and saw a bison just outside the line of trees where they protected themselves from the animals. She lay perfectly still. Her mind web remained filled with the visit to Wisdom, but Tuksook was acutely aware that she must not move in this present, tangible world. Her solitude with Wisdom was not what she’d been anticipating. She would have to reason.
Tuksook looked at the hairs near the browsing bison’s nose. She looked at its head. She wanted to laugh at the thought of Wisdom using a bison to tell the People what they needed to know. After the stress of the meeting Tuksook wanted to laugh and laugh. But that bison was no bison to talk to the people! To avoid an explosion of laughter, she fought hard and finally succeeded in moving the thoughts of a talking bison to some more distant place in her mind web.
Eventually the bison turned and moved away. Gumui whispered that they would leave. He shook out, folded, and rolled the aurochs skin they’d sat on, and he tied it to his backpack. Tuksook laid her cloak over the top of her backpack. They continued north.
While Gumui was delighted to have had the opportunity to observe the camels and bison, Tuksook was overwhelmed with the experience she’d had. Finally, she’d had her time with Wisdom and it had completely turned her life around. For the rest of her life, Tuksook would never forget the life-changing moment when Wisdom showed her what it would be to return to the People to find all had perished while she played. The effect of that simple, visually charged moment would forever caution Tuksook to stay in Wisdom’s way. She knew Wisdom’s way wasn’t like her statement that if her father let her take the trek, she’d forgive him. Wisdom wasn’t warning her to do specific things or else there would be severe consequences. Wisdom was stating the obvious. Tuksook had to prepare herself to deliver to the People what Wisdom wanted them to know. Wisdom would assure the life of the People through her. Tuksook would be like a bird bone flute through which Wisdom would blow the music. She was the instrument; Wisdom, the musician. It was an overall way of being, a massive change required of her, not a specific either/or choice. The message wasn’t at all lost on Tuksook. She had to leave her childhood immediately to become the bird bone flute. The change had occurred. All that was needed was the right habits to form.
They were cresting the top of a bald hill and in the far distance, Tuksook could see many huge mountains, but one stood out far larger than all the rest. She touched Gumui’s shoulder. He stopped.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “That’s the great mountain I told you I saw when I flew.” She paused and continued, “Spirit of the Great Mountain, I greet you!”
Gumui looked where she pointed and gazed at the great mountain. It seemed to sit atop other mountains. The size of it was staggering. He’d never seen a mountain like that. Of all the beautiful white covered peaks near their home, this dwarfed them all. He shrugged off his backpack and helped her remove hers. He sat on a rock nearby to spend more time looking out over the land.
Tuksook was hungry. She felt around in the backpack and came out with four pieces of jerky. She handed two to Gumui and hungrily bit into one of hers.
“This must be what it is like to fly,” Gumui mused.
“This is how it is to see from where I fly,” she clarified.
“Do you f
eel air rushing below you?” he asked while his eyes were fixed on the huge mountain.
“Gumui, it’s the world of the spirit, and in that world I have only the sense of air moving below me, not the feel of it. It’s not as you might imagine. It’s not the way a bird flies, for birds must do things to remain aloft. For me there is nothing to do to remain aloft. Wisdom creates the flight in my mind web. Wisdom assures that I see what I am supposed to see. Imagine you’re in a dream. You can compare it to that. In this world you can touch things. In that one, it’s not the same. Your senses are dream-like, slightly deadened, while your spirit’s part of the mind web functions in a more perceptive way. In a dream you have a sense of touching things, but it’s only a sense of it. It’s not real. Sometimes I want to go beyond Wisdom’s limits. I don’t know whether it’s possible. It displeases Wisdom, so I don’t try. While being in the spirit’s not real in our world, in some ways it’s more real than real.”
The last comment caused a change in the features of Gumui’s face. He knew the words meant something to her, but his mind web could not reason them. He looked directly at her face as if to find an answer there. Gumui wondered at the change. She looked somehow different, but he was unable to detect specifically what the difference was.
“Do you ever have difficulty knowing which world you’re in?” he asked.
“When I was very young, yes, I did. Now, there’s no question in my mind web where I am.”
While they rested, a noise in the sky attracted their attention. A number of trumpeter swans flew over them heading for the valley below. The long-necked white birds seemed to chatter to each other as they flew. Gumui and Tuksook smiled at each other. The bird flight was a beautiful and interesting sight. Gumui and Tuksook drank some water and continued on. They followed a wide animal trail up the west side of a mountain, across the top, and down the shaded east side. When the two reached the lower third of the mountain, a lovely waterfall shattered the quiet of the place with noisy splashing. It was a welcome sight. There was a catch pool at the bottom. Gumui and Tuksook had trekked for quite a long time.
Both looked at each other with grins. They were hot and tired. They removed their backpacks, took off their clothing, and ran for the waterfall, adding their squeals as they ran into the icy water. They enjoyed the water and splashed each other, laughing as they did so. Finally, they stepped out of the water, much colder than they expected. Tuksook pulled her hair over her head and twisted it into a long rope to squeeze the water out. Then she shook it out. They dried off on a soft piece of leather. Tuksook quickly put her tunic on. It was longer than usual, mid-calf length. Her tunic had a split on the side that enabled her to take long strides. It was formless, brown from the hide’s having been smoked. Before the tunic was hers, it was worn by someone else. For the trek, Gumui had worn his red belt. A triangular piece of brown leather extending down from the belt covered his male parts. From the end of the triangle, a thong passed to the back of the belt to tie there. His clothing was minimal when the weather was warm. Gumui opened his backpack and took out his short tunic. He put it on quickly.
The two young People followed the water to a large lake at the base of the valley. Gumui took his favorite spear and left to hunt food for the evening. Tuksook began to build a lean-to after gathering wood and starting a fire. Gumui was surprised that there was not an abundance of animals in this place. He was eager for real food—not more jerky. Gumui ran across the meadow at one place in the valley and was distracted by a small noise. To his disbelief, he saw movement and realized he’d found a very new camel. Gumui stepped over to the place where the animal was resting and saw it had a broken leg. He killed the animal swiftly and pulled it over his shoulders to carry it back to their camp site.
“That was very fast,” Tuksook exclaimed.
“The little one had a broken leg. I’m going to take it down there,” he pointed to a place where land jutted into the creek. “I’ll bleed it there, skin it, and be back soon. It looks as if you have things prepared well here. Call out if you need me.”
“That was good hunting, Gumui,” she said as he left.
Tuksook began to look about to see whether she could find any suitable greens. She was limited to some plantain and new fireweed leaves, but they’d go well with the meat. She carried them and her bowl to the lake and washed the plants. They could drain in her bowl. She didn’t open Gumui’s backpack. There was so little that the People had that was specifically theirs. A person’s backpack was his alone, a treasured private thing.
As soon as Gumui could butcher a piece of the meat, he ran to Tuksook with a roast. He laid it on the rock by the hearth. “Here’s a knife you can use. You might want to cut the meat into pieces that will cook faster,” he told her. Then Gumui was gone to finish the butchering.
Tuksook took a piece of bark from a birch tree and laid the roast on it. She used the knife to cut the meat into bite-sized pieces that would cook easily on sticks held over the fire. She found a couple of good sticks, two for each of them. They could cook their meat at the fire. She thought he’d brought a lot of meat for two people, as she skewered the meat on the sticks readied for Gumui’s return. Some meat remained on the bark.
Gumui returned after washing. He pulled his bowl from his backpack and Tuksook divided the greens between them. Each held the sticks over the fire, eager for food. Light was fading rapidly from the valley when they began to cook the meat. The hearth fire cast dancing light upon them.
“How was your time with Wisdom?” Gumui asked. He still felt it had made a visible change in Tuksook, but he could not reason what the change was.
“It was not what I expected,” she replied. Silence followed.
Gumui wasn’t clear whether she didn’t want to continue, so he asked, “What happened?”
Tuksook had become accustomed to a feeling of obligation when it came to answering his questions. Without considering whether she wanted to share, she began, “Wisdom was displeased with me for putting off telling my father about knowing the stories. I saw his anger. Wisdom showed me how failing to do what is expected of me could cause the People to die. It was as vivid as a shining sunrise. I saw it as if all the People and I were tiny, and I could see it occurring before my eyes. I saw myself playing and the People dying. Seeing it broke me, Gumui. Wisdom changed me in the blink of an eye. It was painful. I understand the need, but it hurts even now. It hurts because I chased after my own wants and displeased Wisdom.”
Gumui was dumbfounded. In moments Wisdom accomplished what he’d tried with no success to do. He was grateful. Finally, he thought he understood the change in her. She reflected the absence of childhood or her childish ways. Her petulance was replaced by genuine concern for the People. Suddenly he realized he was about to overcook his meat.
“We probably need to put the meat in our bowls,” he said. He pulled his off, dropping it into his bowl where it imparted flavor to the greens, and he added more meat to the cooking stick from the pile on the birch bark. Tuksook did the same.
They began to eat while holding a stick over the fire.
After sating his hunger, Gumui asked, “What does Wisdom look like?”
Tuksook continued chewing her meat. Finally, she swallowed. “Wisdom is spirit. For our meetings Wisdom prepared a place that’s not real, but it makes sense to me. Wisdom has a cave with white walls. There is a stone chair for him. Beside the chair are two steps, each tall, that I can climb to reach his right knee. I climb those steps to embrace the knee, and I usually put my head upon it. Wisdom’s knee is what I can reach. Wisdom touches my head. He has white hair, as if the hair were light shining brightly. Remember this is all spirit, so it’s like a dream. Wisdom has a long, white tunic. I cannot imagine what animal it comes from because it’s huge. It may just be a visual thing, made for my eyes to see, not real. Wisdom’s feet rest on the ground. From the ground to his knee is taller than I am. The ground is like a dark blue, clear rock that you can see into. It appears solid.
I walk on it. Inside the blue rock you can see spiraling swirls. I don’t know if water is under the rock. But it’s all created, so it may have meaning that I don’t understand. Wisdom’s face can be filled with compassion one moment and brutally afire the next. There is always reason behind everything Wisdom does.” Tuksook became quiet. She took another piece of meat.
“Aren’t you afraid there? You speak of brutality.”
“Afraid?” she replied with food in her mouth. She swallowed the meat. “I fear Wisdom, but I’m not afraid of him. Wisdom will not cause me physical pain, I don’t think. Wisdom shows me Truth. To have to face my own self, that is very painful to my mind web and my belly. I’d like to be better than I am, and nothing escapes Wisdom. Brutal? I feel it’s brutal, Gumui. That may not make it brutal. It’s very harsh, but certainly deserved. It may be that brutal is the wrong word. What Wisdom does is right. Wisdom works to correct wrong behavior in ways that are unforgettable.”
“I think I’d be terrified,” he admitted.
“I’ve been doing this since I was a very young child. I love Wisdom. Wisdom wants what’s best for the People. Wisdom has a way and wants the People to follow that way.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Wisdom is Truth.” She became silent and suddenly let out a sob from the bottom of her belly. “I feel so inadequate, Gumui.”
He was right beside her immediately. He hugged her to him. She was, he reasoned, just a child. Maybe too much was facing her, but then he realized Wisdom was in the lead. He would defer to the judgment of Wisdom always. He did feel deeply for Tuksook. She was finding her path into Wisdom’s way. That had to be a frightful experience, he considered.
“Why do you feel inadequate, Little One?” he asked while hugging her tightly to him.
Tuksook's Story, 35,000 BC Page 10