I was relieved to find a friend and an ally right away. Doug was as much of an outcast as I was. With a face pockmarked and scarred by severe acne, he was called “Pizza Face.” His mother and father were divorced and he and his three sisters lived on his mother’s meagre income. His clothes were culled from thrift stores and fit as badly as mine. He was tall and gangly, with a protruding Adam’s apple that jumped about in his throat when he was nervous. We shared two of the same classes and when we met one day in the smoking area—we were supposed to be in one of those classes—we looked at each other and laughed. The laughter joined us as brothers.
Soon Doug and I were going everywhere together. We’d meet on the way to school in the morning and plan our escape. As rebellious as we wanted to be, we both knew that there were certain classes that we couldn’t afford to skip. Some teachers were notorious “rats” and any unexplained absence from their classes would generate a phone call to our homes. So we had to plan. Some days our designated “skips” bracketed lunch hour and we could be free for three hours or more. It wasn’t long before we were regulars at the pool hall on Facer Street in the heart of Little Italy. The regulars there got to like us and began to trust us with little “missions.” These errands usually involved dropping off an envelope somewhere, or picking one up and bringing it back. We always got tipped well for our time, and because we never asked any questions and were reliable the guys kept us busy. It meant we always had money for smokes, pop, and treating other rebels to pizza during those lunch hours when we had to hang around the school. I learned that acceptance could be bought for a few smokes, a small loan, and an I-don’t-care attitude. I liked it.
But Doug and I were less than disciplined. It wasn’t long before we were skipping whole days, then weeks. I became expert at forging my mother’s signature. I would type excuse notes for myself during typing class, then scribble her signature on the bottom. By the end of the term, when report cards were due, I’d missed over a hundred classes.
For the Gilkinsons, academic failure and being absent from class were unpardonable sins. I knew I was in the deepest trouble of my life and faced, at best, the complete forfeiture of privileges. There wasn’t anything I could do to change the situation, so I did what I’d learned to do. I ran away forever, carrying my problems like luggage.
It was late. Looking about I could see nothing but deep shadow. Nothing but what seemed like emptiness. I felt very alone. Every sound seemed louder, closer, more threatening. I could hear strange rustles in the grass nearby, movements in the trees and motions in the air that I had never heard before. I was scared. I had only the thin skin of the blanket between me and whatever was out there. If I had had a weapon I might have felt more secure. But I felt helpless. I began to pray. I told Creation that I was afraid, and it helped. And the longer I sat there, the more I began to realize that the living things that roam the nighttime world weren’t interested in me at all. I had nothing they wanted and none of them approached very near. Unlike me, the animals had always known where they belonged, knew who they were and knew how to be themselves.
I envied them for that. I had never known any of that. My teen years were a sad mix of pain, anxiety, fear, and melancholy. I wanted so much to be included, to not feel different, that I’d ceased to care about where “in” might be. Anywhere would have done. Any group of people would have been okay. If I had been allowed to have access to my culture I might have been given teaching stories. Stories that act as guides to our selves. Stories that John told me about the animals and how they had been given the role of becoming our greatest teachers. As I sat there in that thick darkness I thought about the animals of the world and about a long story John had told me shortly after we’d met.
Before the arrival of Man, the Animal People knew each other very well and could speak with One Mind. They could communicate with each other and the Creator and there was balance and harmony upon Mother Earth.
Then, the Creator called a great meeting of the Animal People, and on the appointed day they gathered in a big circle. There had never been a need for a meeting before, and there was much talk about why the Creator would call one. No one had a clue but everyone agreed that it must be very, very important.
When they were all assembled, the Creator began to speak.
“I am sending a strange new creature to live among you,” the Creator said. “This creature will not be like you in any way. In fact, it will be unlike you and will actually fear you.”
The Animal People exchanged puzzled glances at this news. Fear was unknown amongst them.
“These strange creatures will walk on two legs, will have no hair on their bodies, will speak a language you won’t understand, and will grow up believing that they must control Mother Earth.”
The Animal People gasped. They knew without question that Mother Earth needed no control. Nature could always take care of itself. This would be a strange creature indeed.
“These creatures will arrive with the ability to dream. They will use this talent to create many things, things that will serve their belief in control but will also separate them from you. The further they move from you the more they will need you. The reason I called you here today was to ask you to help these strange new creatures. No one knows the world like you and they are going to need your advice and experience if they are to survive.”
A deep murmur spread amongst the Animal People. This was a great request and certainly not one to be taken lightly.
“You are to be their teachers. From you they will learn how to live with Mother Earth. What I ask is very important because I also want to send these new creatures out into the world with a wonderful gift. I will give them the gift of Truth and Life. You have never needed this gift because you come out into the world knowing who and what you are. But this new creature, this Man, will not know that—and you must help him.
“I want this gift to be a search, because if I were to give it to Man openly he would take it for granted and not make use of it. So I am going to hide it. For that I need your help. I need you to tell me where to hide the gift of Truth and Life so that Man cannot find it too easily and take it for granted.”
The Animal People grew excited. The Creator had never asked for their help before and they were all anxious to provide the best hiding place of all for the new creature’s gift.
“I know where to hide it, my Creator,” said Buffalo. “Put it on my hump and I will carry it into the middle of the Great Plains and I will bury it there.”
Everyone murmured at such a great idea. “That’s a strong idea, my Brother,” Creator said, “but not strong enough. Because it is destined that Man will inhabit every nook and cranny of the world and he would find it too easily and take it for granted.”
Then Otter stepped forward. “Give it to me, my Creator, and I will carry it to the bottom of the deepest ocean and I will hide it there.”
Everyone gasped at another great idea. “Thank you, Sister,” said Creator, “but Man’s ability to dream will allow him to go even there and he would find it too easily and take it for granted.”
“Then give it to me,” said Eagle, “and I will take it in my talons and fly it to the face of the Moon and hide it there.”
Surely, everyone thought, this had to be the most incredible hiding place and they were all stunned when Creator said, “No, my Brother, as great an idea as that is, it is not great enough because Man will find a way to travel there, too, and he will find it too easily and take it for granted.”
This was becoming a much harder task than anyone imagined. One by one the Animal People stepped forward to suggest hiding places for the wonderful gift. One by one their ideas were put aside. Soon the Animal People began to grow discouraged. They felt like they were failing the Creator because they could not come up with a hiding place ingenious enough for the gift of Truth and Life.
Then, a tiny voice was heard from the back of the circle. “I know where to hide this gift, my Creator,” said the voice.
Everyone turned to see who this speaker was. There was a murmur of surprise. The speaker was a mole—a tiny, nearly sightless mole that rarely spoke. The Animal People moved to allow her to step forward.
“Tell us, then, Sister, where to hide the gift,” said Creator.
“Where he is least likely to look,” said Mole. “Put it inside him. Only the most insightful and the purest of heart will have the courage to look there. Put it inside him, my Creator.”
And that is where the Creator placed the gift of Truth and Life. Inside every man and woman. And the Animal People became Man’s greatest teacher, to fulfill their agreement with the Creator.
When Man first appeared on Mother Earth, the new creature was helpless. He had no knowledge of where he was or how to begin the journey to discover his purpose. He just sat around in the shade of a tree and watched the animals. He was fascinated by the amazing display of difference. As one by one the Animal People came by to help him, the new creature sat spellbound by the parade of animals.
Man was so enthralled that he didn’t do anything. The Animal People had to bring Man food and water, or he might have perished. Man seemed content just to sit and watch. The Animal People knew that they were supposed to teach these new creatures, and they were puzzled at what seemed like laziness on the part of Man. They tried coaxing him out from under the branches of the tree he sat under. They tried sending their babies to play just beyond his reach in hopes that this might encourage Man to stand on his two feet, as was his destiny, and begin to discover the world. Nothing worked.
They sent their playful ones—Otter, Squirrel, Blue Jay—to try and get him on his feet. They sent the proud ones—Eagle, Bear, Wolverine—in hopes that he might stand in the face of such majesty. They sent the crafty ones—Weasel, Fox, Snake—in hopes they might cajole or trick the new creature up and away from the tree. Still, Man simply watched in amazement.
With One Mind the Animal People spoke to each other. This was the first crucial barrier they needed to pass to become the teachers they needed to be. But they were frustrated. Everyone came up with ideas about how to get Man on two feet and moving into the world. Every idea failed.
But one bright morning, when the sun was shining through the branches of his tree, Man saw something marvellous. From across the meadow came a floating cloud of colour. The colour danced and swooped and dipped and curled all around, inside and over itself. Man was dazzled. Closer and closer the colour came, and as it did the more excited Man grew. He began to giggle and clap his hands in glee. He began to squirm around and reach out towards the cloud of colour. As it got nearer and nearer, Man stretched out his hands towards it until finally the cloud fluttered under the branches of the tree. It was a swarm of butterflies—brilliant, glittering, shimmering. As the butterflies danced in the air around his head, Man laughed and laughed and laughed. His hands stretched out wider and wider, farther and farther towards the cloud of butterflies. Each time, the radiant swarm moved just beyond his grasp. Finally, with playful abandon, Man stumbled to his feet and began chasing the butterflies out into the meadow. He chased them all that morning, and by the time Man realized he was hungry he had grown used to walking and running on two feet. To this day, the butterflies still dance about the heads of children to remind them of the time the cloud of dazzling wings was needed to get Man up and moving.
For the next while, Man continued to watch the Animal People. Being out from under the tree made it easier for him to follow his teachers as they made their way around the world. Man watched and learned. From the animals he learned to hunt, to gather, to store, to shelter and clean himself. He learned the rules of family, kinship, and harmony, and how to honour Mother Earth. Man began to gather the benefits of living as the Animal People taught them. Life was in balance. Life was natural.
But as was his destiny, Man began to think and dream.
It wasn’t long before he was searching for his own way to do things. The simple ways of his Animal brothers and sisters seemed too easy, too relaxed. Man wanted more control. Soon he began gathering more than he needed, and greed was born. He began to take pleasure in surrounding himself with things of the world—furs, good lodges, meat—and jealousy came into being. It wasn’t long before the good hunters began to look down upon the less talented ones, and judgement was created. After judgement came anger, and with anger came fear, and right on the heels of fear trotted insecurity and resentment. Burdened with these new feelings, Man began trying harder and harder to gain things, to have things, and to exploit the world around him. He began to forget the vital teachings of the Animal People and there was a great slaughter.
The Animal People were afraid. Never before had there been killing for the sake of having. Life was sacred, and when one life needed to be given to sustain another it was done respectfully and with great honour for the one that was sacrificed. But Man was killing to seem bigger and better than the others, and was beginning to try and claim the land as his own for the same reasons. When this happened the Animal People grew afraid of Man.
But they never forgot their mission. They remembered that their role was to be Man’s teachers, and even though they took to hiding from him and keeping their distance, they continued to teach them. But Man mistook their distance for sneakiness and slyness and began using these against each other, too.
“What will we do?” asked Raccoon at yet another great meeting in a clearing in a forest far away from Man’s eyes. “How can we teach Man when he is so eager to take us for himself?”
“He is so quick,” said Crane. “As soon as we teach him another part of our way, he turns it around to suit himself. There isn’t time to show him how wrong this is.”
“He doesn’t even try now,” said Wolf. “When he hears my song he no longer tries to listen for the teaching. He only feels fear and wants to keep me away.”
“How can we teach him? How can we fulfill our mission without putting ourselves in danger? How can we help him survive?” asked Beaver.
There were again many suggestions and, just as before, many rejections. No one could come up with a way of teaching that would be respectful of everyone’s life. Finally, Bat spoke up.
“Man has learned by watching us,” she said. “Everything he knows of the world has come from us. Every bit of his knowing has come from watching, from seeing. Well, I do not see, but I have learned to listen to the world in order to find my way—to feel, to experience.
“Maybe the best way to teach Man now is to let him feel his way around the world that way, too. Let him bump into things, lose things, get confused, flutter about in the dark for a while. Then he’ll learn to appreciate seeing for what it is.”
And that is what they did. One by one the Animal People disappeared from the world of Man. They became creatures of the dark, of the deep waters, of the highest flight, the deepest burrows, the farthest corners of the forests, the steepest peaks, and remotest valleys. They ceased to speak with One Mind in case Man, in his dreaming, might find a way to speak this way, too. They separated and Man was left alone.
Loneliness was born. Before the departure of the Animal People, Man had felt comfortable and secure in the world. Now, with his teachers gone, Man became filled with a deep blue feeling in the pit of his belly. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one he did not like and wanted far away from. But instead of turning back to his teachers for guidance, Man chose to become even more and more concerned with getting and having. He seemed to believe that getting and having was the cure for the deep blue feeling in his belly. But the more he got and the more he had, the more that feeling grew.
Soon the new creatures had divided themselves into groups. Each separate group found its own place in the world and settled there. They called these places “home.” At home, Man worked hard to put great distances between himself and the deep blue feeling called loneliness. But all he achieved was to put great distances between his groups. The loneliness grew. Man told himself that the feeling came from not h
aving enough, so he worked hard until finally he had achieved his destiny and filled every nook and cranny of the world. There were fields where forests had stood, dams in rivers and streams that once flowed strong and swift to the sea, roads where once trails had been blazed, and fences to mark where one’s home ended and another began. Man had shaped his world into straight lines. He had made things predictable, controllable, secure. Still, loneliness lived in the deep pit of his belly.
The Animal People watched all of it from their hiding places. They could sense Man’s desperation, and when it got to the point where they could not endure Man’s suffering any longer they met in a secret valley in the mountains.
“It gets worse,” said Bear. “Even though they suffer they still keep on the same path.”
“Yes,” agreed Turtle. “I have heard from my cousins around the world that it’s the same everywhere.”
“But we still need to teach them,” said Rabbit. “We agreed to be their teachers at the request of Creator and they still need our help.”
“That’s true. That’s very true,” said Cougar. “But they are so stubborn. So ready to pounce on us if ever we show ourselves. Who can teach anything when all we mean to them is food or hide?”
“Maybe we should choose,” said Owl.
“Choose? Choose what?” asked Porcupine.
“Not what,” said Owl. “Who.”
“What do you mean?” asked Buffalo.
“I mean,” replied Owl, “that we should chose one group, one Family of Man, and teach them. And maybe, just maybe, that Family of Man can reach the others.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Squirrel. “But how do we choose? And who is worthy?”
For Joshua Page 5
