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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781496957689 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 01/09/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 300 |
| File size: | 614 KB |
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The Quest
A Lakota Legend
By Charles Richard Latona
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2014 Charles Richard LatonaAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-5769-6
CHAPTER 1
The Gift
The old man carefully picked up the pipe. It was not the ceremonial pipe, but rather his daily prayer pipe. It was plain and long stemmed, with only a lone eagle feather for decoration. Yes, it was quite different from the hand-painted, highly-decorative, white-clay pipe he kept safely in the Black Hills. He understood the value of the ritual pipe as an important symbol to his people. Just as important, he knew the Grand Father, the Great Spirit who protects and guides the tribe, would hear his prayers just as clearly, even when the smoke and the words were offered up with the more modest pipe.
He passed the pipe leisurely and deliberately over the campfire four times, purifying it for its purpose. From his waistband, one at a time, he removed the four pouches of sacred herbs, carefully laying them on a rock next to the small wooden bowl. Slowly, in turn, he opened each pouch. Taking a large pinch of the moist cacota and rubbing it between his fingers, he watched the crumbling herb descend safely into the waiting wooden bowl. Repeating the process with the dried white sage, he added fresh pomatote, and finished by blending in a small amount of very dry and extremely strong tobacco.
Using a small rock, he crushed and blended the herbs into an integrated mixture. One measure at a time, he packed the combination firmly into the bowl of the pipe. Taking a small, burning stick from the fire, he lit the pipe, releasing the smoke to the four winds of Creation. Moving slowly in a circle, with his head bowed, he offered prayers of gratitude for all the gifts the Great Spirit had bestowed upon His people. Facing the north, he repeated the age-old prayer of the people. "Great Spirit, we need your strength to help keep us strong in good times as well as bad. We rely on you, Great Spirit, as we face life's challenges. Be with us today."
Having paid homage to the north wind, White Wolf turned, gazing into the western sky. Exhaling the ceremonial smoke, he again addressed the Great Spirit. "As the sun sets and darkness covers the earth, we thank you, Great Spirit, for the gifts of today. Unite us together as family, as friends, as Your People."
He remained silent, watching the smoke drifting into the night sky. Turning a half-circle, he stood looking into the sky to the east. To the eastern horizon he prayed, "Let us lift up our hearts in prayer for the Grand Father to see and hear. Lead us, Great Spirit, by the light of your wisdom."
He completed the circle by facing the desert to the south. To the south he sent the remaining prayer to be carried by the sacred smoke to it's ultimate destination. "Great Spirit, loving Grand Father, you give us life when we take food from the earth, our Mother. We thank you for your gifts. Keep us from wasting them, and help us to remember the needs of others."
Even in the dim light of the campfire, signs of a lifetime of harsh winters and hot, dry summers were easily seen etched deeply in his brown skin. Although his face was furrowed with wrinkles, and his long straight hair streaked with grey, his warm, earthen-coloured eyes remained clear and lively. His face and body may have begun showing signs of aging, but, behind his eyes, his spirit was burning brightly.
Having completed this part of his evening ritual, White Wolf sat silently by the fire for a moment, contentedly warming himself. Slowly and deliberately, he drew the smoke of the sacred herbs up through the long stem of the pipe, holding it as he focused on the remaining prayers within the quietness of his mind. "Releasing the smoke, I offer up my prayers, which are transported by the gentle evening breeze. Let me watch the light wind carrying my prayers to You, Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit of our ancestors." His eyes followed the smoke as it drifted, spreading itself in between the vast distances separating the countless stars. Time and space were truly in harmony. Sighing lightly, he returned to his nightly ritual of devotion to the Grand Father.
In the distance he heard the mournful calling of his green-eyed sister, his spirit guide, his namesake, the white she-wolf, and she was not alone. The clear night sky added to the illusion that the moon was shining more brightly than usual in the transparent desert air. He sat in the reflecting light of the moon, praying for the one who was to follow him. It was the path to which White Wolf had been born, but it was one not always walked with ease.
"It is a hard, dark road leading to the light," he thought. "It will take a brave with special courage to follow this less traveled trail. I shall only teach him just so much, for my time knows its limits. The rest he will learn from the Grand Father."
Taking another long draw of the herbs within the bowl, White Wolf released the smoke and waited. Retreating into the inner space that dwelled concealed within his mind, he remained there in deep meditation. Sometime during the night, his meditations gave way to the waking sleep. All thoughts were gently fading, like smoke from the campfire. His mind retreated more deeply inward, like a great grizzly lumbering into the safety of it's hidden cave. Here he patiently waited to be touched once more by the hand of the Great Spirit.
He did not have a long wait, as his mind quickly filled with the crystalline, blue light. Surrendering himself fully to the experience, he felt his soul expanding outward, attempting to embrace the clarity surrounding him. Like the air and the sky, his spirit and the light were merging into a harmonious oneness, as his image emerged.
Advancing more fully into the light, he heard the shrill call of a great eagle filling the endless sky. Intently, he watched the stars shooting across the vast nothingness, plunging headlong into the earth's atmosphere. Exploding as they collided with the earth's outer protective coat, they created a resounding mixture of fire and thunder. The fire burned with a blinding light as thick, white smoke came pouring out of the flames. Swirling and shimmering, the dense smoke gradually shaped itself into the form of an enormous golden eagle. The great bird stood proudly, engulfed by the reddish-orange robe of dancing flames. In their fury, it appeared the flames were consuming the mighty bird. However, on the contrary, instead of being destroyed, the eagle stepped forth from the inferno, unmarred, except for a burn on the inside of its right wing, which would, no doubt, leave a scar. From the position of its wings, it seemed to be carrying something. White Wolf could not make out exactly what it was, but it was obviously alive.
The bird defiantly stood there, gazing directly into White Wolf's eyes. It was as if the eagle were sounding the depths of the old man's soul, right to the very core itself. Feeling himself ascending into the endless column of blue light, White Wolf's image faded, once again returning to the source from which it had been created.
The medicine man received his vision, and he understood it. The Holy One for whom he was waiting is a flaming eagle. "The Grand Father's message was clear," he thought. "Curiously, the only drawback to witnessing this prophecy is that I do not know anyone who bears this name." However, as always, he accepted the vision, knowing, when the time was correct, the veil of mystery would be withdrawn, thereby clearly exposing the one chosen to follow in the footsteps of a Wicasa.
He awakened from his night's slumber as the rays of the sun were warming the valley floor. The campfire had long since extinguished itself. In the faint morning breeze, the cool ashes were lazily swirling, like long-forgotten dreams. He sat with the sun's rays caressing his body, while his mind carefully sifted through the memory of the vision he had seen. Pondering it, he gazed to the north, recognizing it was now time for him to make the necessary preparations for his homeward journey.
After having been gone for several moons, he was anxious to return to the land of his birth. Once more his quest had taken him far from his ancestral mountains. He would have to cross the scorching deserts and endure the harsh windy prairies before reaching the great mountains standing sentinel to the lush green plains of his people since the beginning of time.
Even though he missed the buttes and the big sky of home, he perpetually felt renewed after meditating in the southern deserts. In the north, he heard the Grand Father's voice in the thunder. He could hear His whispers carried on the endless prairie wind; but, here in the desert, the Great Spirit spoke with a hot, flaming breath. His energy was strong and unimpeded, burning its way across the fiery sands. At night His voice echoed endlessly through the rainbow canyon, where the old shaman was camped.
Without the mountain mist acting as a protective veil, the stars here shone more clearly, revealing their true colours. Allowing himself to be lost in the vastness of the never-ending heavens of the desert, his blood surged through his veins with renewed fire. His mind quickly became as quiet as the silent stars themselves. With his vision quest completed, and his supply of healing desert herbs and plants replenished, there was nothing holding him here any longer. It was time for him to return to the rolling valleys and gentle, wide rivers of home.
Returning his attention to the tasks at hand, he picked up the water skin and walked toward the nearby stream. Reaching the bank of the shallow water, he stopped momentarily, enjoying the cheerful song of the brook. This lively music blended with the higher pitch and faster cadence of the miniature waterfalls populating the stream. Flowing more swiftly through the larger rocks and boulders, the stream produced a sound similar to the deafening din of a buffalo herd stampeding across the prairie. His peaceful mind was filled with a calm clarity as he relaxed, becoming at ease with his environment. The soothing sounds of flowing water were always a natural tranquilizer for his spirit. He stood there peacefully for several moments, enjoying his communion with nature.
Without warning, the serenity of the scene was shattered by a clattering that was very much in discord with his present surroundings. White Wolf was hearing the futile struggle with death taking place nearby. It was a sound all too familiar to him. He ventured toward the frantic, desperate, rustling noises upstream. The fearful sounds of water splashing and flesh tearing increased in intensity as he approached. Clearing an outcropping, he saw her. Her soft brown eyes were wildly scanning everything in sight. Her body was quivering as she fought in vain to free herself from the mud and roots ensnaring her. Sharp pieces of bloody bone were protruding through her skin, as her left hind-leg was badly fractured in at least two places. He recognized, as did she, that she was beyond all help ... even his.
Wounded as she was, the doe would become easy prey for the wolves that would surely come. By the time the sun was high, they would smell the scent of death in the air. Remembering the howling he heard the previous evening, White Wolf estimated the wolf pack consisted of approximately ten.
"They will take their time coming for her ... but, eventually, they will come," he thought aloud. "I have seen them on the attack before. They will begin by slowly and deliberately encircling her, while simultaneously intimidating her with their savage growling and snapping of their sharp, white teeth. Snarling and yelping while faking frontal assaults, they will pretend to withdraw, only to attack anew. They will continue approaching her, tightening the circle as they do. The attacks themselves are merely ploys designed to discover her vulnerabilities.
"After continuously confusing her with their sudden and erratic attacks and withdrawals, the leader of the pack will move in for the kill," mused White Wolf aloud. He had witnessed the pack's ritualistic behavior enough to understand their tactics. "The leader will feign many charges, distracting his prey's attention. The others will continue advancing and withdrawing, until the leader seizes the right moment to make his deadly move. His primary target will be her vulnerable throat. Once he starts ripping at her, the rest of the pack will savagely and mercilessly descend upon her, shredding and tearing her apart while she is still alive. No!" White Wolf exclaimed. "I refuse! This shall not happen to her!"
Speaking to her in a soft, gentle voice, he slowly and steadily decreased the space between them. He spread his arms out wide, his palms turned upward, exposing them to be empty. The closer he approached, the more calm and accepting of her fate she became. Continuing to speak quietly to her in a comforting and soothing tone of voice, he knelt carefully in front of her, cupping her face gently between his brown hands as he looked deep into her eyes. Leisurely stroking the soft, warm fur of her face and neck, he was able to calm her while she resigned herself to her fate.
Looking into her eyes, he whispered to her, "Thank you for the sacrifice which you are about to make. I offer up a prayer of thanks to the Great Spirit for once more having provided for me."
Talking to her in a hushed voice, while gently stroking her silken coat of light brown, he deliberately withdrew his knife from his waistband. Momentarily looking at the deer, he froze. Then, with one quick, sure motion, he plunged the knife swiftly into her heart. She remained mute as her entire body quivered momentarily before she stiffened. Releasing her last breath, the doe went limp, dying in his arms.
Removing her from her ensnarement, he carried her to shore. After offering up a silent prayer, he went about the task of dressing her carcass. The scent of the sage milk was strong and hot to the touch. The warm blood oozed thick and sticky, clinging to his hands and forearms, and the pungent aroma of the sage milk, blending with the smell of the blood, was intoxicating. At the same time, however, he found himself humbled by the entire experience. White Wolf carefully removed her internal organs, one by one, laying them intact on the riverbank. He quickly and expertly went about the skinning process. Her young, blemish-free fur was healthy, and very thick; however, his knife easily cut through it.
After he finished removing the hide, he respectfully laid it on a grassy area near the stream. Gathering up the heart, liver and the other internal organs, he carried them downstream beyond his camp to a place where the water flowed fast, shallow, and clear. Meticulously, one at a time, he washed her internal organs, placing them carefully on a large rock. Usually he would have immediately cleaned the skin for preservation; but, until he had concluded his duties, that task would have to wait.
Picking up her vital organs and carrying them with him, he returned upstream to his camp. Carefully laying them aside, he set about rekindling the campfire, placing dry sagebrush and small twigs on the red and black pieces of smoldering charcoal. The smoke, growing gray and thick, swirled aimlessly in the lazy breeze. Gently blowing on the coals, he watched them glowing brighter and brighter as they burst into small darting flames of red, orange and yellow. He continued feeding the flames with twigs and small dried branches, until he was sure he could safely add larger pieces of wood to the fire without smothering it. He remained attending the campfire until he had built a small, but extremely hot, funeral pyre.
Slowly standing, he raised the offering high above his head, speaking to the Great Spirit in a muted voice. "Grand Father, I stand humbly before You. By leading me to her, You have given each of us a precious gift. For her: a swift and painless death. For me: her meat to feed me and her skin to warm me."
After a moment or two he lowered his arms and, as they came to rest chest high, he resumed his invocation. "It is You who gives life to all things of the earth. As You designed, the earth has nourished her, and now she is to do the same for me, as her kind have always done. Oh, Wakan Tanka, I thank you for this day and for this blessing."
When he finished praying, he knelt with his head bowed. He laid his offerings on the pyre, placing them in an area where the flames were burning a deep blue. First came a sharp, searing sound, followed by a hissing noise, as the moist organs initially cooled the heat of the fire. He sat transfixed, watching the grayish-white smoke swirling and dancing upward toward the heavens.
Breathing the scent of the smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it there for a long while, he then quietly breathed it out. Sitting in silence, he waited for the flames to flare up again. Once the fire was again blazing, he covered the offerings with freshly harvested sage, watching as the smoke grew thicker and darker. Following the smoke with his eyes, he watched the four winds soundlessly conveying it into the waiting arms of the Grand Father. White Wolf remained sitting and praying, until the drifting fragrance of his offering dissipated in the warm desert breeze.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Quest by Charles Richard Latona. Copyright © 2014 Charles Richard Latona. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
BOOK I The Journey,Chapter 1 The Gift, 3,
Chapter 2 The Savages, 16,
Chapter 3 The Disgraced Ones, 26,
Chapter 4 The Night of Fire, 34,
Chapter 5 The Homecoming, 46,
BOOK II The Path,
Chapter 1 The Fox and The Wolf, 65,
Chapter 2 The Snake and the Possum, 74,
Chapter 3 The Angry Man, 86,
Chapter 4 Counting Coup, 99,
BOOK III The Initiation,
Chapter 1 Stories, 115,
Chapter 2 Legends, 127,
Chapter 3 The Sweat Lodge, 139,
Chapter 4 Dance to the Sun, 149,
Chapter 5 The Hunt, 166,
Chapter 6 Morning Star and Thunder Eyes, 183,
Chapter 7 The Gauntlet, 202,
BOOK IV The Wicasa,
Chapter 1 The Flaming Eagle, 217,
Chapter 2 Meadow Lark, 229,
Chapter 3 Cycles, 242,
Chapter 4 Tatanka, 251,
Chapter 5 The Last Combat, 262,
Chapter 6 The Final Offering, 273,
Epilogue, 285,
About The Author, 291,