🐾 Maybe the reason I love animals so much, is because the only time they have broken my heart is when theirs has stopped beating.

Saturday, 13 February 2010

The Wolf Ceremony



I wanted to give something of my past to my grandson. So I took him into the woods, to a quiet spot. Seated at my feet he listened as I told him of the powers that were given to each creature. He moved not a muscle as I explained how the woods had always provided us with food, homes, comfort, and religion. He was awed when I related to him how the wolf became our guardian, and when I told him that I would sing the sacred wolf song over him, he was overjoyed.

In my song, I appealed to the wolf to come and preside over us while I would perform the wolf ceremony so that the bondage between my grandson and the wolf would be lifelong.

I sang.
In my voice was the hope that clings to every heartbeat.
I sang.
In my words were the powers I inherited from my forefathers.
I sang.
In my cupped hands lay a spruce seed-- the link to creation.
I sang.
In my eyes sparkled love.
I sang.

And the song floated on the sun's rays from tree to tree.
When I had ended, it was if the whole world listened with us to hear the wolf's reply. We waited a long time but none came.

Again I sang, humbly but as invitingly as I could, until my throat ached and my voice gave out. All of a sudden I realized why no wolves had heard my sacred song. There were none left! My heart filled with tears. I could no longer give my grandson faith in the past, our past.

At last I could whisper to him: " It is finished!"

"Can I go home now?" He asked, checking his watch to see if he would still be in time to catch his favourite program on TV.

I watched him disappear and wept in silence. All is finished!
- Chief Dan George

6 comments:

  1. This is so prophetic, Maree, especially the statement - I could no longer give my grandson faith in the past, our past. When we stop treating history with respect we lose ourselves. In the case of Chief Dan George's people, the past was taken from them. In one of the Bleak files in the CT Archives there is a translated poem by a Khoisan poet which is as haunting as this story, and carried the same theme. I never wrote it down, but the essence has remained with me.

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  2. This also resonated deeply with me Heather - I see it so often in children of today, irritated by the ramblings of grand-parents...

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  3. Thanx for this!
    Awesome, something to ponder on.

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  4. Thanks for popping in Susan!

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  5. It really seems like the boogey man was at work between you and me Mary, I also missed this comment. Maybe there was a glitch with the e-mails this day. Thanks for stopping by, really appreciate that!

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