“Pulling my feet straight again, I forced myself back to sleep and dreamed of a stormy sea. My boat and my body, like a buoy, were tossed violently back and forth in the waves. I could sense the presence of sharks all around me, under water, but never did I see their dorsal fins above surface. When I awoke the second time, from that water dream, it was to Running Wolf ’s words, ‘You must pray to that element.’” Wolf paused for a moment.
“They came at me so loudly that I woke with a start. I felt seasick. Honestly. ‘God,’ I thought, ‘how do I pray to the elements?’ That’s all I could think: I knew I had to pray to the water element, but I didn’t know how. I crawled to the edge of the circle and threw up, nothing in my stomach but liquid. My head swam. The land around me seemed to be moving.
“Again, the icy wind placed its cold hands on me as I slid into the water quadrant, careful not to destroy the rising waves Running Wolf had drawn deeply into the dirt. Inside the southwest quadrant of the medicine wheel, I got onto my knees and folded my hands. I remembered the waterfall and how the river looked smooth and slow near the drop-off, how powerful the fall of mere water could be. I prayed to that idea of power out of the calm, to the idea of water creating power, even electrical power for small cities.”
Wolf laughed. He looked at his hands. “I asked for it to teach me, that I might return with a sense of continuous flow, an easiness of movement with the underlying strength and power of the waterfall. Then I recalled my bathing and how the water slowed and nestled into the inlet where I bathed. How its strength outside that small area pushed at rocks, jumped high into the air, and rushed downstream through rapids. Water proved more versatile than I’d ever thought, more important.” He produced another small laugh at the immensity of the thought. “Even our tears are water. The wetness inside our mouths. Nourishment for plants.” He looked up towards the ceiling and beyond. “The clouds are water. The moisture in the air. My own sweat. Without water there is nothing.
“Do you understand that? Without water, everything living on this planet dies. Plants, animals, humans.
“Dust. Only dust remains.
“If God made man from dust, he used water to hold us together.
“I became overwhelmed by the power of water. Perhaps I’d seen too many movies, but I stood then, spread my arms out to my sides, tilted my head back and prayed openly and loudly to the water spirits. To the idea and the symbol of water inside us all. I tried to remember Running Wolf ’s chant, but I couldn’t. I didn’t feel as though I got it right, which embarrassed me. So, I prayed for forgiveness and promised that I’d try to remember. And then, like an acknowledgment that I had been heard, droplets of rain fell across me as they were pushed by the wind across the path of the power wheel. When I finished praying, I lay back down along the north-south line, my eyes open, thinking, trying to remember Running Wolf ’s chant. The rain stopped as quickly as it began.” Wolf sighed. “I must have fallen asleep with that thought in mind, because I dreamed that a chant was given to me inside a small wooden box.”
In the dream, Wolf recalled that he stood near the edge of water. He didn’t know if it was a lake or a river. Kneeling down next to it, reaching his hand inside it, there was power; power in its ability to run its path regardless what the world did. The water had somehow removed all negative feelings from him, just sucked them out, and, in the dream, Wolf could literally see it happening. Although he didn’t say it out loud, he knew that the dream wished to help him flow more easily with life. It had given him a sense of inner power.
“Out of the woods behind me came an Indian I did not recognize, whose figure never quite materialized. This person, male or female, or both as I thought later, handed me the little wooden box. Upon opening it, I heard my chant: hee yea hey yee hee. For the rest of the dream I chanted. That’s it, nothing more.”
Again, Wolf fell silent as he thought about the dream. “Now you may think this to be a gift, as it surely was, but it was also frightening. To think that by not praying inside the quadrant I could have nightmares and become seasick, and by praying inside the quadrant I would be given a chant, meant that the power of the circle was strong. I suddenly realized that my life was at risk if I did anything wrong. Remembering what Leela had told me, ‘Do what Running Wolf says or wrong may befall you,’ put me on edge. I couldn’t remember everything Running Wolf had said because I hadn’t listened closely. I had been too busy trying to remember how to get out of the woods.
“Somehow I knew, by having my own chant, I was calling my own spirits to me, and I had not always performed so honorably in life. I wasn’t certain if I wanted to call on my most inner self for anything. I didn’t know what was in there, what I would call.
“Maybe the lack of food caused me to hallucinate. I know that during a fast you are supposed to relax and decrease your activities, but I had been forced to walk all day, to climb. And there was the tea. What was in it? Anything could happen inside that wheel. Anything! I could feel its power, its probing, its presence.” Wolf shifted uneasily in his chair, turning this way and that as though he were disoriented.
“When I awoke the next morning, the beginning of my first day inside the circle, I opened my eyes and remembered where I was, what had happened to me. I cried. The dream came to me slowly, and when I remembered the box I sang out my chant.”
It had been early morning and the day already seemed long. After the continuous movement of the past days, the circle posed a sense of complete limitation on him. He hadn’t known what to do. Surprisingly, he asked his wolf-self that question and received the image of a wolf pacing the perimeter of the circle, like a guard walking the boundary of a war camp.
“I’ll tell you what I did then. I stood up and walked all the way around the circle: south to west to north to east and back to south. Then I walked the cross hairs: south to north, back to center, then east, and from east all the way to west, leaping over the smoldering fire. Back to center, I got out the tea and water, put a log on the fire and heated my breakfast. With my new respect for water, I chanted as I poured it into the cup and I thanked it.”
The memory of that first day came clearly. Going to the west edge of the wheel he had sat quietly watching the mist rise from deep within the gorge. The clouds peeled away, rushed southeastward, pushed by the wind, as the sun rose from behind him. His shadow stretched over the ledge he faced. He remembered drinking slowly, hoping for time to pass more quickly, and how his shadow did not look like him at all, even as a silhouette. His head and shoulders couldn’t be seen, making it easy for him to imagine himself as a rock, a huge boulder protruding from the ground making this rounded shadow. Strong. Immovable.
“For some stupid reason,” he began again, “I decided I could rush through my lessons inside the medicine wheel. I thought that if I learned my lessons quickly, I could shorten my class time. Well, remember this,” he interjected, “you can pay attention so that you get everything you’re taught, but you can’t receive information not yet delivered. There’s no such thing as precognitive learning!” Wolf slapped the table top with his palm and heard the tape recorder jump.
“After deciding to pray inside each quadrant, then leave the circle, I finished my tea and stepped into the southeast quadrant, facing the outside of the circle, the wind at my back. I stood again with my arms out and prayed to the Earth god. My words were so banal that I don’t even remember what I said. Something like, ‘Oh, Earth spirit I honor and respect your place here and inside me.’ Maybe that’s even more involved than I got. I even closed my eyes and tried to visualize the element to which I prayed. There was no feeling to it at all, I can tell you that. You can feel it when you’re sincere. I wasn’t.
“True to my cockiness and arrogance, I stomped directly from one quadrant to the next. Already having done water, I stepped to the northeast quadrant, into fire and pulled out similar words as those I used in the Earth space. Wham, bam, and I was hopping northwest into the air quadrant. ‘Oh, air gods, hokey smok
e, honor, sacred, spirits, whahoo.’ Done. Arrogantly stepping back into the center, with no regard to my thoughts or movements, I grabbed my teacup and blanket, that little cloth, and packed up to go. I quickly put my tennis shoes back on and said au revoir to the wheel. I had no idea where to go next, and once outside the circle, felt terribly lost. I brushed the feeling aside quickly and walked into the woods. I had found my way there, I’d find my way back. But back to where?”
Back inside his own head, Wolf wandered outside the circle and into the beech, quaking aspen and hackberry trees. He had gone eastward, where he thought he’d come from. But in less than an hour, a squirrel he had chased up a tree, perched itself above him and defecated right on his shoulder. Wolf had ignored the sign from brother squirrel, that he had made a mistake. Angry at the sign—even while ignoring it—Wolf had traveled at a faster pace, almost at a run. Twice he had tripped over logs hidden by leaves and thick moss. Both times swearing, getting up, and moving on, even more determined. Pushing hard, he had depleted his energy once again and became unstable, both mentally and physically.
“When I got tired, I kneeled down and panted like a dog, not a wolf. I had lost that right. When I finally allowed myself to see, I noticed the carcass of a deer not three feet from me, and suddenly got a whiff of its stench. What was being said to me? I knew. Suddenly, clearly, I knew that if I didn’t return to the wheel, I was dead.
“Something creaked behind me and I felt pure fear. I turned around. There was a huge tree that had grown into two great branches. The seed of another tree must have blown into the crook of these branches long ago, and rooted in the accumulated humus. A whole new tree grew there. A different breed of tree.” Wolf ’s voice rose in volume, “Thirty feet up, it grew, mixing and entwining within the branches of the original tree. It had grown larger than its host; it was a faster growing tree, like an elm growing from an oak. Its trunk had become equal to its host’s, larger than the branches that now attempted to hold it up. Roots from the elm wound all the way down the trunk of the oak, but these roots weren’t so strong as the oak branches that held them.”
Wolf leaned towards the recorder. He reached out and pulled it closer to him, then spoke directly into its tiny microphone, almost screaming. “I’m telling you, anything that feeds off of something else is weak! That’s what it meant. Whether it has to feed that way or not, it is weak. Listen! When the elm finally used up all the energy, all the spirit, out of the oak branches, it couldn’t stand on its own. I witnessed its fall. The old oak is long dead, the elm is trying to stand using its rubbery, unstable root system.
“It happened right there in front of me. Roots pulled loose, branches flew off in all directions like an explosion had occurred. There was this loud, loud screech, like some dying animal. It was horrible. Right there, in front of me was this great sign, explaining my life, how I’d used others, how I’d fed off their growth. I was coming apart and could feel the pain, actual pain. Branches fell all around me, a great leafed section brushed my face and knocked me backwards, closer to the deer carcass. I screamed.”
Wolf breathed heavily and rubbed his face with his hands. “In a few moments the noise was over, but the energy remained. As though saved from drowning, I couldn’t stop gasping for air. I got up and ran back to the circle. With all my strength, I ran. Before I entered, I stripped myself of baggage, placing everything outside the circle once again, even my cross-trainers. I dropped to my knees and prayed like a child, to God, to the Great Spirit. I might have prayed to the devil himself if I hadn’t been so scared. Then I re-entered the circle.”
Tears fell from his eyes. His shoulders shook and his hands now held his forehead, keeping his head from falling to the table. “It was only a circle drawn into the dirt,” he said quietly. “Yet, once inside it, I felt safe. I knew I’d done something wrong by leaving, but I’d returned with the idea to redeem myself, even though I didn’t know exactly how to do that. ‘Become quiet,’ Leela had said. ‘Listen. Smell. Touch.’
“By this time my head was spinning. When I closed my eyes I felt dizzy and weak, so I laid down, north to south, like I had during the night. At first, closing my eyes brought images of the tree falling, then I began to notice how my body felt. My heart raced, my legs hurt, my arms and hands felt numb. I moved my fingers, to be sure that I still could, and felt the dirt under them. Wind flowed over me, a wave on its way across the ridge, down the hill, into the woods. Small dirt particles struck my arms and my neck and face. The movement of air tickled my feet. The sun felt hot. My mouth and nose felt dry. I covered my eyes with my right arm to block the heat.
“Inside my own darkness, I remembered always the two trees and their meaning. I had used everyone: workmates, clients, friends, family—everyone. And I wasn’t proud of that.”
Wolf looked up at Gary. “At one time in my life, I had been proud to manipulate and use people,” he said. “It made me feel powerful. In control. But, lying there, it dawned on me that I was never in control. The need to manipulate others controlled me. I’d spend hours, sometimes days, working on one person to get him or her to think my way or to do what I wanted. In the end, I’d wasted precious, precious time for very little pleasure. Realizing this, I’d quickly go on to the next thing, the next person. If I felt angry, I’d start a fight and anger would control me. If I felt lonely, I’d call someone or meet someone in a bar, and use up their time, their energy, talking nonsense just so I wasn’t alone. Being alone meant being only with myself and I hated myself.”
“If you can’t spend time happily with yourself, how could you expect anyone else to?” Wolf asked candidly.
Gary shrugged, but said nothing.
“I don’t know how long I lay on the ground, my arm shielding my eyes, but I was alone. Realizing how much I hated myself, and why, broke me down. The only thing I could do was find some redeeming quality, and if I couldn’t, then I needed to change, become a new person. ‘Listen. Smell. Touch. Remember everything.’” Wolf laughed out loud, “Running Wolf had said that the wolf is the teacher. I thought I could become a real wolf, but in order to teach, I needed to learn. But learn what?” He shook his head. “Inside the circle there was nothing I could learn, except about myself, and I hadn’t seen much I liked so far. Perhaps a new self was emerging. So, I vowed to be honest, have more integrity, to be kinder.
“I make it sound as though I thought clearly, making major decisions for my life through clear, conscious thought processes, but that’s not how it was. The way I remember it, the ideas fell over me like some kind of knowing, coming from nowhere. Or from confusion. Most of the time I could hardly focus enough to reason as clearly as it must sound explaining it now.
“Well, then I fell asleep out of complete exhaustion. When I awoke, something was crawling on me. My face and arm were both wet from being in contact. Using the vest to clear away the sweat, I opened my eyes slowly to the mid-afternoon sun.
“Ants had found their way onto my body. Not huge red or black ants, but small, dot-size ants. Brushing them off, I sat up along the line where I’d layed down in the first place. I hadn’t moved an inch. The breezes felt cool on my skin. Trees moved to the force of the air, shifting back and forth. In a small grove near me, the leaves of quaking aspen flipped and flopped like tiny fish stuck to the tips of branches; they waved to me from a distance like tiny hands. Loose dirt shifted over the ground—dust really—never obscuring the deep markings Running Wolf had etched there.
“Noticing the ants once again, I followed them with my eyes, to see where they were going. I bent down close to the ground, counted their legs, watched them move, noticed the segments of their bodies, and wondered how they must feel. What was it like to have six legs? Were they compelled by instinct or did they have some small amount of intelligence? Of free will? Did one ever purposely hurt or manipulate another?
“The more I watched them, the more I sensed what I think they sensed. Selecting one from the group to follow, I leaned down as it climbe
d over stones and around pieces of grass or weed. It found a small dead bug I hadn’t seen before and walked around it, shifting its weight, pushing its carcass until eventually, the little ant was able to get under the bug and lift the carcass onto its back. When it walked outside the circle, I sat back on my haunches noticing I was inside the north-west quadrant. Air. Running Wolf had drawn cloud-like shapes in the quadrant along with curved lines that looked like birds flying. Simple drawing really, the curved lines of bird wings in the distance, the bumpy look of clouds, a partially round sun poking through. It sounds complicated, but it wasn’t.” He waved his hand as if discarding the image even as he painted it with his words from memory.
“Already on my knees when I realized where I was, I sat back and crossed my legs, Indian-style. Folding my hands, I prayed quietly to the gods of air, then to the four winds, something I’d read or heard somewhere. I tried to follow a natural path into prayer.
“In the past, I was never sure whether my prayers were natural or fabricated. Out there, things just flowed. With my eyes closed, I focused on my face to feel the winds from each direction, one at a time, praying that whatever lessons they had to teach me I would learn with ease and a full understanding. I had already learned from the trees, now I wished to learn from the wind.
Sitting there, I thought more of the ant. It didn’t give up. With slow persistence, it was able to lift and carry something much larger than itself. But now it was the wind’s turn to show me something, yet nothing happened. When I felt as though I was through, I got up and paced the wheel.
“That’s what I did for the next few days; I paced the wheel.
Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection Page 33