Flying Eagle sat
alone at the edge of his tribe’s encampment, deep in thought, considering all
that had taken place in the last several years, abruptly distracted by a
violent interaction between a coyote and a rabbit, the rabbit being on the
receiving end of the violence. The distance between himself and the homicide
was great, stirring up questions within himself about the purpose of life and
if there truly was any difference between his own life and that of the rabbit.
He was far enough
away from all the others in his tribe, merely watching them with curiosity,
wondering what it was about him that made him so contrary to everyone else.
“They all seemed to interact and connect so easily,” he thought. One could
label it a type of jealousy that he felt but like the eagle that soars in the
sky cannot swim in the river like the salmon, and the rabbit that runs from
place to place cannot fly among the clouds, he knew that this common and simple
interaction was not something that he would ever accomplish.
From the moment he
began to speak, his father, mother, and extended family knew that he was
different and would most likely take over the role of shaman when their current
shaman passed away. Flying Eagle then spent the next twenty years of his life
with the shaman, Lumbering Buffalo, finding a connection and learning the
details of reading nature, understanding the smallest hints and obscure facts
that most everyone else simply did not see.
It was in his
tenth year of life that he heard about the birth of a female in his tribe that
seemed to possess the same attributes as he and Lumbering Buffalo, which
stirred within him the desire to find her, wait for at least fifteen years, and
hopefully make a connection that would secure for him a spouse of like mind and
like soul. The next ten years passed by agonizingly slow as he waited for her
to mature, but befriending her all along, happily finding the connection he so
deeply desired.
Though it was
unheard of for a shaman to take a spouse, as their role within the tribe was to
be the point of spiritual connection and wisdom between his people and the
spirit world. He knew and understood that his role was to become the next
shaman, he also knew that he could not thrive and flourish without someone to
love, to embrace, and with whom to connect.
He clearly
remembered the year that Fluttering Grouse became a woman, but he also knew
that she needed at least three or four years to embrace that change and learn
the ways and responsibilities of a female member of the tribe. From that moment
forward, he spent as much time with her as he could, dropping subtle hints,
making references to future plans, and their similarity, creating a bond with
her that neither he nor she had with anyone else.
As the day
approached, Flying Eagle counted down the days, and on the afternoon of her eighteenth
birthday, he and she slipped away into the vast open prairies, free of all
distraction and others, to pose the question of marriage, eventually convincing
her that they had grown so close and were so much alike that the spirit world
unarguably intended for them to be together. With an excited squeal, she
vigorously embraced him for a gloriously long period of time, to then take his
hand and lead them together to find her parents and make the announcement a
matter of public knowledge.
Within the year,
Fluttering Grouse carried the beginnings of their first child. They now lived
together in their own tent, at the far edge of the encampment, a typical
location for the shaman, allowing for freedom from distraction and ease of
visitation for those who were seeking wisdom and guidance. He watched her grow
larger as the months passed by, thrilled at the prospect of seeing the fruit of
their union, and knowing as well that she greatly desired to have many
offspring. He wondered if one of them would become the next in line as shaman
after he, which would not be surprising but was definitely unusual, as shaman
typically did not marry or reproduce.
Several years
passed, then several decades and he watched as his household continued to grow,
becoming by far the largest home in the known history of the tribe. A dark
cloud of despair began to hang over him and fill his heart, as he watched
Fluttering Grouse become distracted by a variety of other details of tribal
life, spending more time with others, rather than he and their children, a sad
and sorry decline that he knew he needed to address but had no idea how to
proceed or find a resolution.
Over the years
their household grew smaller and smaller, as their children matured and started
their own lives of adulthood. His pride could not be any greater as he watched
his children become talented, wise, and productive adults, contributing to the
success of the tribe. As he sat in his tent alone, on that one fateful day, the
flap suddenly flipped open to reveal the chief and a young woman, motioning for
him to join them outside. He rose from his seated position and began a long
walk with them into the open prairie, to learn that the young woman had
received a vision but did not understand its meaning. He carefully listened to
her describe what she had seen and began asking questions to fully understand
the scope and depth of it all.
When they reached
a great distance away from the encampment, they stopped and he began his
explanation to them both, revealing that her vision had to do with a major
change in her life and the young man who would take her hand in marriage,
leading them away to begin a new tribe at the edge of a forest, a new life
unlike that of living on the prairie. The three of them walked back in silence
and as he approached his tent, a moderate size rock struck him on the side of
his head.
As he scanned over
the area, he saw Fluttering Grouse standing with another man, looking very
angry, waving her hands and yelling at him to go away and never return. He
slipped into his tent, gathered only those belongings that he could carry to
then disappear into the depths of the prairie, heading toward the forest in the
deep north.
Jerked back to the
moment, Flying Eagle refocused his attention on the current day and minute,
still sick in heart at the ever-declining path they had taken. It was then that
he realized that no one seemed to notice or care that he had departed. It was
only when he returned after a full set of seasons that he realized how much he
missed being around and being helpful to the others.
From his seated
position of solitude, he could see that his children had all grown, had
detached themselves from Fluttering Grouse, and seemed content leading their
lives as productive members of the tribe. From a distance he watched Fluttering
Grouse shuffle around, seemingly disconnected from everyone, her head down, her
eyes constantly on the ground, and clearly had gained an obscene amount of
weight, mostly like from emotional eating.
The tent that had
been their home had disappeared, a fact he noticed on the day he returned,
forcing him to build again, now no longer a shaman but just another part of the
tribe. He wondered about his value, if he actually had any, while physically
present, he was still disconnected from everyone and everything.
No matter how warm
the weather, or how often he briefly interacted with the other tribe members,
he always felt cold and empty, wondering what to do, if anything, about the
chilling vacancy that always filled him. “Maybe I should not have returned,” he
thought to himself. “Where can I be of the most value or contribute something
of worth to anyone?”
With these
questions still rolling around in his mind, he walked into the distance until
he could only see the tips of the encampment tents, to take a seat among the
ground hogs that seemed to enjoy his presence, finding no fear or danger with
him. “Well, at least someone seems to like me,” he thought. “I guess I’ll
simply get back to solitude within nature and settle on that as my new
reality.”
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