Lost in his own life
©2008 Shelley Haggard
In the light of distant civilization, he could see his ancestors stir in the totem. Stanley Park was quiet. The Sunday crowds that had circled the totems earlier in the day, hunting the perfect angle, the perfect distance, with their myriad cameras, were gone. Now it was just him gauging the shadows the totems cast, trying to see if they were writing directions for him on the grass. He was lost, not physically, he was lost in his own life. It had become a maze that he couldn’t navigate on his own any more, and he had come here for help.
He felt the ancestors’ presence fully, could hear them drumming in the echo of his heartbeat. He could hear them chanting old words that lifted his spirit to position where it could look Eagle Clansmen in their eyes. Those eyes penetrated the shields he had placed in his mind as protection from the battering the humans in his world kept inflicting. Eagle spirit telegraphed an ancient wisdom into his brain. “Trust yourself,” it said. “Do not let the negative voices of others rule your spirit. Your spirit, mind, and body should operate as one—-then life will be as full as it can be.”
He got the message and he felt a calm descend. The negative voices within and without were getting too much of his precious time. He resolved to cast them out, to get back to what made him happiest, creating art through carving; showing gratitude to the ancestors.