WOLVES
Unfortunately, there are a great number of myths and misconceptions that
have, throughout the years, resulted in
the wolf being feared, even hated, by
mankind. Wolves are probably the most
misunderstood of the wild animals. Tales of cold bloodedness abound, in spite of
their friendly, social and intelligent
traits. They are truly free
spirits even though their packs are
highly organized. They seem to go out of their way to avoid a fight. One is
rarely necessary when a shift in
posture, a growl, or a glance gets the
point across quite readily.
It is time for the persecution
of our wolf brethren to stop, and for us as a human species to realize that all
creatures are beautiful. In the Lakota
(Sioux) tongue, one says mitakuye oyasin -- "we are all related." Truly enough,
we share a common home and common fate
with all of our kindred species. It is
time for all people to come to
understand that nature must exist in a
state of
balance.
A GUIDE TO THE
SACRED
Wolves have been long regarded
by Native Americans as teachers or
pathfinders. Wolves are fiercely loyal
to their mates, and have a strong sense
of family while maintaining
individualism. In the stars, Wolf is
represented by the Dog, Sirius, thought
by many aboriginal tribes to be the home of the "Ancients." It seems to be
through this connection that Wolf has
come to be associated with ancient
teachings. Traditionally, someone with
Wolf Medicine has a strong sense of
self, and communicates well through
subtle changes in voice inflection and
body movements.They often find new
solutions to problems while providing
stability and support that one normally
associates with a family
structure.
The Wolf Ceremony
by
Chief Dan George
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 fore fathers. 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 favorite program on TV. I watched him disappear and wept in silence.
All is finished!
RETURN OF THE WOLVES
All through the valley, the people are whispering: the wolves are returning to the narrow edge of our fields, our dreams. They are returning the cold to us. They are wearing the crowns of ambush, offering the rank and beautiful snow-shapes of dead sheep, an old man too deep in his cups, the trapper's gnawed hands, the hunter's tongue. They are returning the whispers of our lovers, whose promises are less enduring than the wolves. Their teeth are carving the sky into delicate antlers, carving dark totems full of moose dreams: meadows where light grows with the marshgrass and water is a dark wolf under the hoof.
Their teeth are a carving our children's names on every trail, carving night into a different bone- one that seems to be part of my body's long memory. Their fur is gathering shadows, gathering the thick-teethed white-boned howl of their tribe, gathering the broken-deer smell of wind into their longhouse of pine and denned earth, gathering me also, from my farmhouse with its golden light and empty rooms, to the cedar (that also howls its woody name to the cave of stars), where I am silent as a bow unstrung and my scars are not from loving wolves.
by
Anita Endrezze
Brother Wolf.... A Forgotten Promise
"Since only the sun and moon made light, I have known you. I watched you from the once vast, impenetrable forest. I was witness as you discovered fire and strange tools. From ridges, I
watched you hunt, and envied your kills, I have eaten your scrapes. You have eaten mine.
I have heard your songs and watched your dancing shadows around bright fires. In a time so distant that I can barely remember, some of us joined you to sit near those fires,. We became part of your packs, joined in your hunts, protected your pups, helped you, feared you, loved you.
We have existed together a long time. We were much alike. It is why the tame ones adopted you. Some of you, I know,
respected me, the wild one.
I am a good hunter. I respected you, too. You were a good hunter. I
would see you hunt in a pack with the tame ones and catch meat.
Then there was always plenty. Then there were few of you.
Then the woods was big. We howled to the tames ones in the night. Some
came back to hunt with us. Some we ate, for they had become very strange. It was this way for a long long time. It was a good way.
Sometimes I would steal from you, as you did from me. Do you remember when you were starving and the snow was deep and you ate the meat we killed? It was a game. It was a debt. Some might call it a promise.
Like many of the tame ones, most of you have become very strange. Now I dont recognize some of the tame ones. Now I do not recognize some of you. We were once so much alike. You made the meat tame, too. When I began to hunt your tame meat (they are foolish creatures and do not honor death, but the wild meat was gone), you hunted me. I do not
understand.
When your packs grew larger and fought among themselves, I saw. I watched your great battles. I feasted on those you left behind.
Then you hunted me more. I do not understand. They were meat. You killed
them. We wild ones are now very few. You made the woods small. You killed many of us. But I still hunt, and I feed our hidden pups. I always will. I wonder if the the tame ones who live with you made a good choice. They have lost the spirit to live in the wild. They are many, but they are strange. We are few. I still watch you, too, so I can avoid you. I do not think I know you any longer."
by
Jim Brandenburg
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