under the oak beech
tree Saturday night
tree Saturday night
A couple or so weeks ago, I met a wolf leading an Apache-Inuit man down the street. The wolf, named Ee-see (phonetic spelling), allowed me to touch her, to pet her from head to tail, for nearly three minutes, all the while leaning hard against my legs.
I told my friend Mike that that counted as one wolf coup and that I would celebrate it at the next full moon. (Mike responded that he wasn't sure who had counted coup on whom - Ee-see, or I on her.)
Tonight, I celebrated. (I hope the Butcher from Pittsburgh wasn't looking out his windows this time, not that it matters. I think he has come to expect just about anything coming from my property.)
I danced in the dazzling light of the nearly full moon. Wearing a tanned deer hide over my shoulders, I carried a fan made of crow feathers I've found over the years. The counting coup ritual is supposed to be carried out in the company of other warriors who could attest to the bravery and success of your deed, but there was no one to vouch for my coup.
I sang a song of Ee-see and her man, Chief, quietly so as not to disturb the neighbors. Of course, a couple of dogs heard it and began barking, but not consistently. I sang to the Moon and she joined me, her mouth forming a circle as she howled Ee-see's part.
At first hiding in the shadow of overhead oak branches, I moved out into the alley between my house and The Butcher's. (The surface was level and better lit.) I dipped and swayed and pranced in a circle to the imagined sound of drums and dozens of voices repeating my story, until my legs got tired and I was out of breath. That was enough.
The fireflies twinkled in place of the stars. A soft breeze came up and rustled the oak leaves. The magic of the moment was waning, so I stood still and quiet, listening to the sounds of the night: mosquitoes humming in my ears, whispers of the leaves in the breeze, dogs half-heartedly barking now and then, a cat yowling at a rival for its territory. The urban sounds faded from consciousness as I stood, arms stretched out from my sides, letting the intense moonlight shine down over me and my tiny patch of earth. I felt whole and at peace, grateful for the opportunity to touch a wild thing and have it touch me in return.
Things like this don't happen very often in a lifetime, and should be cherished and remembered for the rest of one's days; celebrated with song and dance and joy.
And moonlight.
(A little bit of Bruce doesn't hurt, either.)
(Mike, when you touch the bear, I'll come celebrate with you, deerskin, crow feathers and all.)
16 comments:
I would have loved to have seen that dance, and under such a wonderful super-moon. There is a point where worlds merge and overlap.......
I'm sure I was an odd sight, Tom.
I almost didn't do it. I don't like appearing a fool any more than anyone else, and God knows I do too often, as is. Pressed hard to give a rational explanation for my urge to throw a tattered piece of deerskin over my shoulders and flail about in the moonlight, I couldn't do so.
All I know is that what started out as a lark, as carrying out what I told a friend I would do, turned into something that felt sacred, that seemed to complete the experience that began when the wolf leaned against me there on the street corner several days before.
Having crossed that threshold where the real embraces the unreal, the mystical, I would dance in the moonlight again. I would touch the wild again, where, as you say, "the worlds merge and overlap", and would consider myself blessed.
The primary requirement during my growing up years was that I act the same as everybody else. It stuck, hard as I try to pull loose. Good for you . . . dancing by the light of the moon. You're an inspiration.
I love this Bruce, the only time I really have liked his performance. So raw and real.
Consider yourself danced with, all over the world.
Coup counting can certainly be mutual, right?
Diane, I suspect we both, being Southerners, were brought up similarly. It is only in the last year, maybe 14 months, that I've started breaking loose from what was drilled into me all those years ago.
(I considered, briefly - very briefly - dancing skyclad, but I haven't broken that free yet!)
I like Springsteen's grittier voice, too, Zhoen; seems more authentic.
There are places and cultures still left in this world where dances under the moon and celebrations of life-altering events take place on a regular basis. I want to try to make my life more like that.
And, yeah, maybe Ee-see was counting coup on me - how cool!
Wonderful thing to do - bravo! Wish I'd seen you.
I was having trouble getting to sleep last night, so in my nightie and in bare feet and with my cup of hot milky cocoa, I stepped out on the deck to gaze at the moon. I wondered how many millions of other humans and animals were doing the same thing at the same time.
(I don't think the moon was that 'super' though for I've seen bigger...)
Marja-Leena:
The moon is supposed to be at its fullest and closest to Earth tonight. Our weather report was calling for heavy cloud cover for Sunday night, so I thought I'd better dance while I had the opportunity. If the weather continues to clear, as it has done most of the afternoon, then I may have another chance. If so, I'll take it.
When I first went outside last night, I wondered, too, how many others were out moongazing. Glad to know you were one of them.
Can't say I've done anything like that, I'd expect if I did I'd end up in the local facility, with one of the uniformed guards asking: "Doc, you feeling better?"
I like The Boss a lot, in the early '80s when "The River" came out, it was my favorite. I took Kate to one of his "Born in the USA" tours, it lasted 3 hours. After two, I asked her if she was tired and wanted to go (she was 10...). She looked at me like I had two heads.
I haven't either, Mike, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I'm trying new things; this was one.
I'm about to go out to look at the moon again. Decided not to pop corn after all, but I plan to toast my friend with a glass of tea.
Dance? Nah, I'm too shy, too English, too tied up with words to let myself go, too prone to blather when I should remain silent, too lacking in rhythm, too lumbering. Not so much a case of two left feet, more a case of three feet none of which I was born with.
So I envy you the expressiveness - saying something about yourself that is beyond words, beyond singing (although music is of course ying to dance's yang). Once, a long time ago, VR was deputy matron at an old folk's home and the proprietors held a party at the catholic church social club. Booze was half what it cost in the outside world leaving me in an acquiescent mood. One after another, the women who worked at the home, reversing dance etiquette, escorted me on to the dance floor and did their best to neutralise my lumbering. I entered a strange world full of gratitude and a belief that I could actually dance. But I needed others to do it for me. You managed it yourself. I was an extra, you were a star.
But there is one area of common ground: we both wrote about it and I for one found that fun. I suspect you did so too.
Deer hide? I fear in my case it may have been a suit.
The woman I was a year ago might have sat on a lawn chair in the light of the moon, but she wouldn't have gotten up to dance. A lot has happened in that year to change (or start the change process in) me. In some ways, I don't know who I am anymore, but I find that that's okay, it doesn't matter. I'm more interested in what it is I'm becoming.
I suspect the only one who thought you were lumbering out on that dance floor was you. Having said that, though, I also feel like a duck among swans when I do the same thing.
Maybe, Robbie, the secret for both of us is in the moonlight. Try it next time there is another super bright moon. And take VR out there with you.
What a wonderful way to celebrate the first full moon of summer, my friend. I am both very proud and envious of the blessing you received from EaSee and your counting coup dance.
I read a wonderful article earlier today, the preface of a book called Teaching Truly: A Curriculum to Indigenize Mainstream Education. I think you're far along that wisdom path.
Have you read The Philosopher and the Wolf by Mark Rowlands. The author a professor of philosophy describes how he acquired and lived with a wolf for the wolf's life time. I am certain that you would love and benefit from it as I did. The book somehow fits the mood of your post which I thoroughly enjoyed.
Just dropped by to thank you for following my blog. I had thought you didn't like it and of course I didn't want to act like a grade schooler: teacher, teacher, Sally doesn't like me, *waaaah* why???
At any rate I have been reading your blogs. I had joined FB a few years ago and for the first few days it was okay. Then one day I visited a site which I had never visited before. I was greeted with "hello David." Thank you FaceBook and goodbye.
In truth there were other things about FB I did not like but you have already said that for me.
About the ritual, I like that sort of thing. We humans are not I think, totally a separate and unlike entity from the rest of creation. We are part of it even if our brains have raised us high above it. Our spirit remains as it ever was - a primeval being and naturally needs nourishment.
I love this.
Did you know the Native American name for June's full moon is the Strawberry Moon? It marks a ripe time.
Are we the harvester or the harvested? Counting or counted coup?
Why not both, eh?
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