Wakan Tanka
WAKAN TANKA - The Great Mystery
The morning mist immersed me in a tranquil sea and I let it flow through me. Late August is an especially nice time of the year in Muskoka, warm days with cool nights, perfect camping weather, no bugs and with cloudless skies the dome of lights above glimmer like the ocean, the Milky Way as the golden shore. The night sky is like a woman, she never disappoints me.
Under the pine bough I heard a rustling and assumed Simon was awakening. Momentarily, he poked his head through the flap of the tent. “Morning already ?, he queried. To which I replied with a nod. The wafting coffee aroma finally brought him out and his delightful hand greeted a mug, a swallow later brought a subtle grin to his otherwise sullen face. I could hear his breath grow deeper and his eyes, at last, opened fully.
We drank in silence, for a while, the endorphines snapping to attention. He looked around our clearing as the sun broke free from the grip of the clouds and I could tell the city had built a cloud around his spirit. Our short talk last night confirmed that. But here he was drinking the chlorophyll as well as the coffee and, only for a moment, he shone. It was his homo nature, everyone has it, its primal, it comes from our million-year-old heritage of living off the land, so to speak. It’s the wild side, the humanly beast. He can sense things invisible to the eye. He’s the reason most of us put outdoor pictures as a background on our computer screens, but most reject him for the sapien part of nature, the “wise” part. Rationality for everyone, what you see is what you get and there’s no waiting at the emotional bar; plenty of fear to go around. Daily I see and feel the negative influences of society’s pressures. People seem to be looking for ways to be offended by what someone says or does and we are all so eager to blame someone else or something else to explain our circumstances.
“I feel a darkness around you, man, what’s going on?”
Another long breath and he began to open up. “I hate my job”, he confided, “but I’ve got to stick it out until I can retire, like in fifteen years. Cindy is not working much and now the money is really tight. We’re fighting all the time about it, I just wish it would end”. His pain cut through the silence like a scream in the night.
“Let’s go for a walk”, I said.
Down the drive we headed to the road and across, through a thick row of trees and onto the path that leads to the park and the waterfalls. We could hear the rush of the river current on our right and even felt the occasional spray as the water tumbled over the rocks.
“The city,” I said, “ modernity on the whole, can blind people. We get caught up in consumerism, the plastic, cha-ching, it’s so easy, more stuff, yada-yada- yada. So much chaos ! And then the work just seems to go on endlessly, the boredom. I know how you feel, that was me a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
I stopped and turned to face him, “I embraced wholeness”, I responded. Giving that a moment to set in, I continued, “There is a connection to all things, humans and all matter that inhabits the Earth in a communion of souls. That union is the lifeforce and it is present in all things natural; indigenous peoples call it Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery. Modern society teaches us individuality and separateness and we lose hope for a better way.” He listened intently but I could tell from his expression he had more questions than those simple statements could answer but he stayed silent hoping for an explanation.
“ When a person gets sick, modern medicine treats the symptoms of the dis-ease not the whole being ~ body, mind and spirit. For a time this may work relieving the pain but it doesn’t address the whole person. We’re very good at dispensing drugs to fulfill a need, but at what cost? It’s time to change health care from medication to meditation, to heal the inner wounds that manifest as physical ailments”.
As we continued to walk ponderously along the river I picked up a branch that had fallen to the ground from a nearby tree and I asked my brown-haired companion what it was he saw in my hand.
“A piece of dead wood,” he carefully answered, a little surprised by my question.
“That is because you see only with your eyes,” I replied with a smirk.
“What else is there? What do you see?”
“I see a once great oak tree whose branches reached up to the sky and whose leaves felt the summer rains. I hear the rumbling of the many-legged creatures who walked along here with purpose and determination. I feel all the birds, the chickadee and the raven, who have perched on this limb. Where you see death I see life. I have tasted the damp wind as it passed through here. I see a good walking stick decorated with paint and feathers to give it honour. It will bring comfort and support to the one who carries it in times of need as they walk their path. I feel the warmth it could bring in the fire of an old man who is cold. I see all connections and all possibilities for I look not only with my eyes but with my heart and spirit; this is the alchemy of the soul transforming the mundane into the sublime.”
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