The Moss Garden Journal Of Chan Wing Tsit

by Richard Bell

  Chapter 12

  One morning Nowamooks took me aside. “It’s been made obvious to me...” she explained, “…that your totems are powerful.”

  “My totems? How can you know that?” I laughed.

  “I know powerful totems,” she snorted, “You survived when everyone else died.”

  “I’d say that was my karma…not my totems.”

  She shrugged nonchalantly, “A silly distinction…what’s the difference?”

  I tried to explain. “Karma is why things happen. Totems have intentions, they make things happen.”

  “ ‘How,’ ‘Why.’ You’ve never cared about such things before. Maybe karma takes the form of totems.”

  I blushed and accepted the possibility. “But your totems…sea otter, raven, rock cod…they actually help you. Mine stay hidden.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be stupid. Yours have kept you alive. Your dream’s old man is Raven, your wolf, Coyote. They whispered in your ear long before Komkomis found you. Because you listened, you survived…it’s obvious. They were part of you then, weren’t they? Everybody sees it but you. You must have known them from before. What are their Chinese names?”

  I’d told her a hundred times that I didn’t know so I muttered, “In my tradition names aren’t important,” and looked away, feeling awkward.

  There was a moment of silence. Then she chuckled and pushed at my arm as if I had made a joke. “You really don’t know what the stones mean?”

  Blushing, I admitted, “No…I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t know” she smiled and tossed a pebble at me. “You don’t even know if you have totems…but still they whispered and you listened when you met Komkomis. Now you’re deaf again. But still they watch you. Don’t lie to me, Chaningsit…that you still breathe is proof.”

  I took a breath and relaxed so she might see my sincerity. “I don’t doubt totems. All you say is true and I still don’t know them. I don’t know any totems…Buddhist or Tsinuk. My world hasn’t included them, so we don’t talk, even in dreams. Of course I’d like to, but I don’t. How did they save me?”

  Nowamooks offered me an self satisfied smirk, “Komkomis found you on a Tillamook beach….” she tossed another pebble, but I caught it in my hand, “They hadn’t found you.” She winked and jabbed me with her elbow. “Why were the Tillamooks blind, ‘eh? For HOW long were they blind? You might be useless, but your totems aren’t.”

  I blinked, biting my tongue so I wouldn’t respond.

  “Komkomis told the others he would kill you, but didn’t. Why would he do that? He lost face…didn’t even take you as a slave. Strange, ‘eh?”

  Her eyes grew large and she spun around, “Your totems talked with his. They’d have to be very powerful to do that. It makes no sense that you don’t know them.”

  She thought I was either blind or lying, but I couldn’t help that. I shrugged. “Why would they save me if I don’t know them?”

  “They have reasons. Why not?”

  I didn’t know enough to respond, it didn’t fit the world as I knew it. Things shift minutely from the moment before because of reasons; there are always reasons. I liked the idea of totems, but it didn’t explain what happened on my beach. Yes, okay, both Komkomis and I behaved out of character. That meant something changed us without our knowing…okay you call that something totems.

  Nowamooks continued, “Your totems and Komkomis’ thought it up.” She tossed another pebble.

  I caught it and playfully tossed it back.

  “Tell me…was the way you normally act? Just sitting there, expecting him to kill you…expecting him to? It wasn’t, was it? Your totems whispered, so you showed no fear…is that normal? The idea that Komkomis would spare an enemy just because he sat there is ridiculous. Not killing you was crazy. He behaved so oddly he lost respect. That is not his way. He should had killed you or made you a slave. He admits that his totems convinced him of that crazy story, but you won’t.”

  I sat confused. What she said made sense to my Tsinuk mind even though my Buddhist half heard magical thinking.

  Nowamooks continued as if I’d answered, “What else explains it Chaningsit? Your totems talked with his…ok, it sounds stupid, but it worked. Who but your totems could make anyone do things that don’t make sense?”

  His totems had him pretend you were a noble from far away. Now that’s crazy…from somewhere nobody’s ever heard of…with lots of people like you. And, here you are…giving gifts like a civilized person…just exactly at the right moment? Your totems must have understood Tsinuk for that to happen…must have been a rich trader or noble…with a round head.” She stopped to giggle. “And you didn’t just give gifts…no, you potlatched. You gave everything away…everything. Is that a Chinese custom? No, you’ve told me it’s not. You didn’t even know that here giving everything away makes you a great man.” She stomped her foot and laughed at the idea.

  “But I didn’t do anything.” I blushed. “I was just too weak, couldn’t run…I gave the bowls because I thought I’d die.”

  Nowamooks cut me off with an angry shake of her head. “And…you’ve told me ‘thoughts and words are like dust’…not really real.”

  I looked up in amazement, shocked by her words,. My mouth hung open, hardly believing that she’d just explained that like a Buddhist. I shut my eyes, thinking; if totems were guardian spirits it could work…but in Chan, guardian spirits were little but metaphor.

  “It wasn’t normal for you to sit there or give things away. Komkomis didn’t want to spare your life. Who but his totems could convince him? His totems told him to give up the honor of killing an enemy.” She giggled. “You’re both SO hard-headed.”

  “I wasn’t an enemy…”

  Sighing, she lowered her eyes, not believing I could be so stupid. “If he’d killed you…you’d be called one.”

  I shook my head in confusion…my mind went blank.

  She held my hand and looked me in the eye. “Chaningsit, tell me…why else would either of you have done what you did? Eh? It made far more sense to kill you and take the bowls.”

  Suddenly, she leaned back and laughed, “He told everybody you were a chief from far away.” Her mouth pinched into a pleasant smirk. “You were dressed in leaves, couldn’t talk and were obviously stupid. Who but your totems would dream-up such a story?”

  Exhausted and confused I shut my eyes and simply nodded. I was thankful and no explanation worked. She was right; it didn’t make sense. Yet…somehow I’d survived.

  “A chief.” She laughed again and poked me in the ribs. “People still think you’re a chief.” She folded double, laughing until tears streaked her cheeks. “Without a flat head…of people nobody’s heard of. Oh, oh….you ignored death and insulted him by not defending yourself…then you potlatched? If you wanted death, if he killed you it would seem he was obeying you. It was clever.”

  I was suddenly adrift…lost to any understanding.

  “And you say you don’t believe in totems? Ahhhhhaaaa.” Mirthful tears streamed her cheeks. “Men are SOO stupid.”

  “Now you’re a great man. Chaningsit…even the youngest bailer returned wealthy from those bowls you say were worth nothing. Every one sings your praises even if no one believes the lie about bowls being as common as baskets.

  “It is a rare honor to potlatch Chaningsit. Most people live their lives without one…but you just stumbled into it? You’d never heard of it…but did it? Is that believable? Now you’re so famous we gain honor by hosting you and Komkomis is famous for rescuing you. You say everything happens for real reasons. If this isn’t caused by totems, then explain the reasons.”

  She squeezed my hand and giggled again. “The real joke is that you really don’t know…do you? You really don’t have a clue about your totems. You’re just lucky they’re smart; you wouldn’t be worth much as a slave.”

  I squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Nobody but us knows you’re only a
Buddhist shaman.” She made a rude sound and poked me in the side.

  I forced myself to grin. But I really didn’t understand. Perhaps my totems were powerful. I couldn’t see her humor. It scared me. What would people think once they learned I had no noble blood?

  In this land, dreams tether the spirit and human worlds. They heal imbalance and arrogance. And both Nowamooks and her mother were experts. Once my totems settled themselves comfortably within, I began dreaming in Tsinuk.

  The peculiarities and insights of dreams were discussed endlessly. While I knew I dreamed, but seldom remembered them. Traditionally, Chan considers dreams only “flowers of mist;” interesting, even fascinating, but ultimately only a distraction. People here however consider dreams to be conscious. It was understandable they might hide if I didn’t respect them.

  One afternoon we were by ourselves gathering wappato in an isolated meadow when Nowamooks tripped me then “accidentally” fell atop so we rolled in the grass wrestling and twisting until my hand inadvertently cupped her breast. I froze but giggling, she wiggled against me as I stiffened. Her nipple hardened into my palm and she locked her legs about me and ground her pelvis against me. I froze in fearful uncertainty when she reached into my loincloth and squeezed.

  I’d learned she was only Komkomis’ sister not husband, but much as I was tempted, my fear inhibited me. I wouldn’t have dared touch her. So, luckily for both of us, she didn’t wait for me to act.

  I’d come of age in a monastery where only senior priests married. I wasn’t a monk so it intimacy and marriage was acceptable, but I had absolutely no experience. Of course I had longings about girls. But nature is more powerful than intention and I simply gave myself over to her whims. With her hands upon me, desire boiled. Such drives are as natural as breathing, eating and sleeping. Our first lovemaking was unpolluted by thought.

  Guilt came later, haunting my darker moments for weeks if not months. I feared Tsinuk code I knew nothing of not Buddhist tradition. I was like a rural priest, with my own hut and field. I wasn’t a monastic. Intimacy was acceptable.

  I was an inexperienced, pliable student. From that first afternoon she took over my life. After a few days of repeated intimacy she simply moved my blankets to her alcove and took-on my education with the same directness she took with everything else.

  I was such an innocent that the emotional power of it overwhelmed me. For months afterwards my mind was fixed upon her. Perhaps it was her compensation, for as a lover I couldn’t have been very good.

  Young Tsinuks openly experimented with their sexuality. They were expected to pick up experience before adulthood. But sexually, I was a babe in arms. Thankfully Nowamooks saw it as endearing. I was so overwhelmed, I’d try anything she suggested.

  As a youth I’d read classic novels such as The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Dream of the Red Chamber. I’d eagerly explored The Plum In The Golden Vase’s explicit sex and erotic, bawdy humor. My whole family secretly consumed the popular fiction’s trashy tales of seduction and illicit romance. As a youth addicted to the magic of reading, literary sex was accessible. Moving to Nan Hua only meant keeping it from novice masters instead of tutors.

  As a teen, I assembled a repertoire of literary trysts without experiencing an actual girl. Beyond my inexperience, by Tsinuk standard our relationship was unremarkable. Though I tried to hide it for months, the village certainly accepted us as lovers.