The Spirit of The Great Bear

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Grandmother turned to leave, and immediately all eyes were on her. Her woven wrap held the image of half moon and sun with brilliant colors fading one into another; everyone hoped to get it one day. 

 

"Woman, where do you go?" The Shaman demanded. 

 

Her eyes fired back her answer, as she continued walking away. Soon she began shaking her head in complaint. The man who sees could not stand it anymore. "Why do you mock me?" 

"Why can't you see? You are no Seer. Our people will perish under your hand." Her words were firm and plain for all to hear. "And I have no desire to watch the end that is coming. I will not sit here and listen to your ramblings." 

"Great-mother you must not speak to the Shaman this way." The Chief spoke with affection but had need for her to comply.

 

Her smile was weary. "I will do as you say, if this Seer, can conjure the spirit of the Great-Bear." 

The whole tribe was engrossed in the battle about to unfold. No one spoke a word even the horses were silent. The Shaman burned with each word she spoke. He walked to the fire and with his arms moving into an enclosed circle like a hawk wrapping his prey, his song filled the night. The people whispered and anticipated what would happen next. 

 

To everyone's shock, nothing happened. Not even the night owl grumbled about the racket. He stepped back into the shadow of the night, chanting in tones of anger. "Come, Great-Bear come. Spirit of Life, send to me the Great-Bear." He had heard the old woman singing something like that before. 

He continued to chant and sing, but his thoughts were filled with her. How I dislike you, even now in your old age you are a pain to me. His thoughts raced back to his childhood. How the old woman once young and filled with life cared for his ailing mother and her young son. Their eyes locked and a small crescent smile reviled that she was missing a front tooth. She longed to make peace but knew they never could. 

 

The heavy clouds made the night dark, and with the darkness, his heart grew bitterer. He placed ash and ground-up bones under both eyes. He reentered the light of the fire and danced to the drum. Still, nothing happened. The people began to grumble, and with their whispers, he raged wildly in dance.

 

"He is not the shaman his father was," Stone-calf whispered to his wife.

 

"No, but the Willow woman could teach him." His wife said in a paltry voice. 

 

"Maybe so, but he never forgave his father for taking her as a wife after his mother died." And with that said, they both nodded. 

 

The old woman walked to the fire. He gave her a nod and sat down to watch. Slowly she walked to the fires edge and handed him her wrap. He clutched it like an eager child. 

"Let this be your final lesson from me and a peace offering between us." She closed her eyes, lifted her hands, and sang.

 

"mmm, mM, mm, Mighty Spirit, Creator of all, give motion to the wind and uncover the stars. Mmm, Mm, mighty star, my burning flame lay down a path to this very place. Mmm, mM, mm, mmm, Great-Bear, Spirit of death, come dance with me, carry me from this place. Mmm, mmm, Come Great One come. mmmm,mmm."

A soft, stirring wind divided the clouds. Splitting them from left to right. The flame of the fire steeped low before there sight. The wind danced in circles until a great roar leaped from flames. A bear of smoke stood on hind legs. The tribe leaped to their feet, glued to the ground. As the Shaman lowered his head in wonder and shame. Then he watched the old woman turn to a smoldering haze.

She and the Great-Bear danced to the drums. The Spirit dancers from past lives danced alongside them. The tribe was unaware of their presence, as Heaven's shore spilled forth with onlookers. A whirlwind coiled past carrying the Great Creator, the giver of life. Who carried the two out of sight and no one spoke for the rest of the night. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Cherrie. You capture the feel of the Native American belief in the story. You create strong characters and amazing storyline. I had to read again. A Shaman cannot be forced into wishful thoughts. They must rise-up when needed. Thank you for sharing the outstanding story.
Coyote

[Cherrie Palmer]

I have touch of Cherokee on my mother's side and like to give it a voice every now and again. Plus I spent most of my life in Oklahoma. It adds to the telling. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

I am 1/2 Ojibwa. I follow my Grandmother ways. I still do the herbal cures. We must keep the memories of the great people alive. I was lucky. The Apaches loved me in Texas. They adopted me and they taught me. The Apache ways. The Ojibwa are not so friendly. A wonderful story.

[Robert Trakofler]

he he, I am only good at conjuring the great bunny he is not so ferocious but he is very fluffy and cute. LOL I loved the story you are truly becoming a master of the short story. and like your story says you also are never finished learning you always push yourself to a better define in your write never truly satisfied in them (a familiar attitude.) like the shaman we are always students always inquisitive

[Cherrie Palmer]

Just like a woman's to sneak in a lesson in a story. I can't help myself.
Thank you:)

[Shep]

I liked this story a lot it had deep meaning and lesson to learn from the shaman herself you talk a good game but be warned I have a big hat don't try to put it on before you are ready... nicely done.

[Cherrie Palmer]

hmm, what color hat?

[Cherrie Palmer]

Ya know I have to say lessons are never planned out. As the events unravel a lesson may emerge.

[emmajoy]

Such a different tone of voice, of words, from other stories in the Cafe! There's such a gentle but growing drama here, a moral, a feeling of a lost time brought to life by your very fine writing, Cherrie. So much so, I want to read more.. and more.

(Please let me know when you edit/or/alter.) x

[Cherrie Palmer]

Thank you Emma and I will.
Have a safe and happy new year dear.

[emmajoy]

Smiling.. and looking forward. Loved your tale, is so different from the norm.

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

A fascinating Native American tale with a moral to be learned ...

[Cherrie Palmer]

Like a woman's hair, it's almost done.

[William Richards]

I really enjoyed this story. I enjoyed the mystical elements and the lesson taught at the end. Good work.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Thank you William

[MelissaAndres]

Cherrie, Thank you for entering this story into our contest. Submissions will be accepted until October 15th. If you have other WC friends who many be interested in entering, please feel free to pass on the information.