When the night has come and the fire is burning with the warmth and energy saved from the sun it is time to sit with the spirits, to sit with relatives, to talk, time to learn and time to feel.
Grandfather said, "Little Owl, the reason
I have asked you to sit with the children is to talk of things that bother the
spirits." He let that sink into the boy's mind and then continued, "The
spirits feel the people of your time have forgotten their teachings."
Little Owl did not know why Grandfather had asked him to sit down with him on this night, his friends were expecting him to come visiting tonight and he had things to do before the sun came up again, so tomorrow would go smoothly. But Little Owl knew his grandfather chose the times and places of their long talks carefully and he knew that time spent with him was always an adventure. Tonight Little Owl's adventure would stay with him forever.
Grandfather put his hands together and wrinkled his forehead, he cocked his head a bit to the side and rocked back from his waist just a little. He then raised his eyebrow, looking sideways at his grandson. It was his habit to do this when he drew on his memories and he was sizing up the mood and openness of the boy he was about to speak to. Little Owl knew this aged man and he knew this was the signal to watch and listen to him.
Grandfather could see past the hurry and scurry of people around him but now his words were clipped because he knew his grandson was becoming a man and the boy needed no easing into difficult subjects.
"The people of your time cannot claim or even feel honor when they no longer understand the veteran. Very few in your time understand the warrior's heart. They pursue material gains above all things. Little Owl, I would like the children to speak of the warriors of the past and the veterans of your time."
Little Owl looked past his grandfather's shoulders and saw the seven children. His heart quickened anticipating their reunion. Grandfather turned to the children and he said, "Show Little Owl how true honor cannot be purchased but only earned by the actions of an individual."
Young Blood, the red child spoke first to Little Owl, "In my time we were able to witness the warrior's deeds. Our People depended upon our fathers, brothers, uncles and cousins who were our warriors for the defense of our cultural, spiritual and religious ways. When the warrior was honored the people prospered and lived in harmony."
The white child, Snow, added, "Do not forget how our mothers, sisters, aunts and cousins protected us when the warriors were away and women stood in defense of the tribe. Not only did the warriors suffer but the family of that warrior did as well. When a warrior died, the mothers cried for the loss of that child and the wives felt the emptiness. The warrior's children would have only the memories of their father."
Little Sun, the yellow child, reached out his hand toward Little Owl then folded it with a fist over his heart saying, "The warrior fought carrying the love and honor of the people. This was the source of strength that helped him or her to endure the sacrifices that must be made. In your time the veteran is forgotten. No longer do the children hear the stories of the veteran's honor. The role models of the children of your time are the high paid professional athletes and professional musicians, the corrupt politicians and wealthy drug dealers. This is the shame of your time, no longer are the warriors recognized, people listen only to the howls of the animal."
When Night Wind, the black child spoke, she pointed one small index finger to the trail that a tear would make down her cheek, "When the warriors entered into the defense of their people they also carried in their hearts the knowledge of the destruction and the sorrow that would follow their actions. With this understanding the human knows that a warrior's suffering for his people will never end but trouble his heart for the remainder of his life. How many in your time, Little Owl, will understand what I have said?"
The children moved silently with experience to form a circle within reach of the fire light and from within their midst a single voice arose,
"Little Owl, experience the feeling of a warrior!"
His mouth hardened, and his eyes instantly knew every leaf before him. He turned his head quickly to check behind himself. The source of his physical strength and control moved suddenly out of his legs and rose to his shoulders. His arms heaved and at that moment, he became an eagle, mighty and winged. A cry of confidence and warning from his heart burst out through his mouth. He gave a hop and with a well practiced stroke made a strong sure wing beat then another easier than the first. He swam upward through thick friendly air. The ground fell away below him and he was above tree tops then soaring on the heat from the fire below. Well above the children, his eyes were seeing through cover of night and distance. His heart feeling the honor, love and pride that made the circle of these children, sailed him equally as well as the air sizzled on wing tips spread wide beside his beating chest.
The children were dancing and singing songs of the warrior's feats. Little Owl soaring as the warrior in the eagle's body was the master of sky and air and he swooped low over their heads. They looked at him with the honor and caring that can only truly be expressed by a child. No force of self interest no ulterior motive, no hidden secret of barter or trade gathered to be made at a later date. They were children safe in their footprints moving around the circle, carrying simply and easily, their own pure emotions and the bare truth, moving in time to the beat of hearts that know the strong pure rhythm of living in the moment.
The eagle soared high within the honor of these children. He heard his grandfathers voice low and strong hum and vibrate before it spoke within his head, "Now, Little Owl, feel the honor of the veterans of YOUR TIME".
An emptiness washed through his heart, chasing before it the strength he had so easily felt just moments before. His breath came short and fast as he struggled with the burden of his wings, his shoulders grew heavy he lost the touch of the warm currents rising from the fire and he fell from the sky. He did not panic because he could endure, but every doubt he ever had babbled and pressed into the space that was his strength moments before. His reason to be was gone. The air was too thin to hold his heavy body, his will left him, his shoulders no longer sure, failed to help him.
He was again Little Owl, once again the boy sitting among the seven children.
The voice of a young teacher broke the hollow feeling that remained after his flight and Little Owl carried it within his chest as Breeds spoke,
"The feeling you had as you fell from the sky was caused by the emptiness that has been allowed to grow within the heart of the veteran of your time."
Pulsing with red and white light Breeds, the boy, pressed his face close to the vision seeker and continued,
"Little Owl, this feeling was brought on because the children of your time are not taught of the sacrifices of the warrior. The veterans of your time have not felt the honor of the children dancing and singing their deeds. The veterans of your time are forgotten, no longer do they have the support of the people to ease their memories of the losses of war."
Breeds pulled his anxious face back from the vision seeker's and looked sideways into the darkness. He let anger fall away from him before he continued so that his deeper feeling of betrayal would show instead, "The warriors left you when they were young and believed in the honor of the people. They returned from the sacrifice to receive silence"
Breed's voice echoed in the hollow space above Little Owls ribs, he saw it hanging from deathly hooks in his mind. He was only a boy who came to learn. Was he responsible for everyone? Was he to answer for all the people? Why did he have to feel what they missed?
"I want things to be simple," he thought.
Belongs stepped across the space now between Breeds and Little Owl. She was alternately showing the colors, yellow of day ,shifting to almost invisible black against the night. Her words, too, bounced within him on jagged edges bringing a pain of heart sickness, "No longer do we tell the children of the gifts the veterans have given them. The people of your time do not tell the children stories of how their freedom was won and preserved by the individual. They no longer keep the veterans in places of honor, instead veterans are hidden in institutions where the cost of their sacrifices are forgotten."
Little Owl heard the cries of lost voices and dying people, soldiers and villagers, children and old women, between the words that Breeds pressed in on him,
"Your people have sought to protect the children from the vision of the cost of that freedom they enjoy. What they have done is to deprive children of the ultimate love and caring of the warrior. In that act they have also deprived the warrior of the love and caring of the children whom they scarified greatly to protect."
A great silence fell upon the little circle assembled, the cold flat whiteness of winter came from nowhere and made a chilling pass through the camp. It was a harsh and frozen moment but Little Owl welcomed its release from the voices and the loss that came before. His sickness of heart was done and it was his mind that began to work.
Future's voice snatched the vision seeker back from the frozen land,. "Hear me Little Owl, when the sacrifices of the veterans are not taught to the children of the future and the children are not allowed to honor them, will the people refuse to be warriors without honor? Without the honor and love of the people what purpose is there in being a warrior? Without the warrior, to protect the people, the circle of life can be broken."
Little Owl felt himself standing though he did not remember rising from his seat. His eyes closed, head tilted back, his arms were pressed stiffly to his side and his mouth hung open and thirsty. Then a voice of a girl child floated around him, and Future sang:
In the past the children danced
In the past the children sang.
In the past the children knew the honor of the warrior.
In the present the children no longer dance.
In the present the children no longer sing.
In the present the children do not know the
honor of the warrior.
In the future will the warrior rise in protection of the people?
In the future will we be able to honor the veterans?
Will the people of the future know honor?
Little Owl heard the high voice of Snow giving way in her song to the voice of his grandfather. It was low and broke occasionally. Little Owl woke as if from a dream seeing the tall aged man placing the last pieces of dry wood on the fire and singing to his grandson and the woods around him. His grandfather had the twinkle of starlight in the corners of his eyes when he reached out his hand to help Little Owl from his comfortable place by the fire so they could head back to the lodges.
"Sometimes Grandson, I wonder if you are listening to me or just dancing with the spirits while I watch you sleep."
Little Owl smiled his sleepy boyish smile at his Grandfather and the old man smiled back. He knew the boy's answer from the memories of his own boyhood and the time spent with his grandfather. He let his grandson know the love and care he felt for him within the now boyish smile that played on his face and came from his heart.
This is the second story from ICE WILLOW'S CHILDREN, producers of "TEACHINGS OF THE CHILDREN" a web story
GO TO THE INTRODUCTION
OF THE CHILDREN
"The Children Speak of the United States of America"