Long Bow

Long before the crone came and visited me to explain that I sought the light and purity of all living things, Henry Deerwolf was my teacher. Henry Deerwolf was a Hopi Shaman and he taught me the magic of his heritage, the craft of medicine, the power of talismans, and the sacredness of ceremony.

Deerwolf told me the stories of when he was younger, when he learned the skills he was now teaching me. We made canoes out of doe hide, hunted food together in winter, and gathered by the lake shore in the afternoon sun or by a glowing fire at night to work the deeper mystic arts of shamanism. At first he said very little of the arts and I didn’t ask questions or push to learn more than he was willing to teach. Over time, though, perhaps as my other skills grew or just my contentedness, Deerwolf began instructing me in some of the techniques and initiation rites. I was even allowed to be present at some of these ceremonies for others. I was always mesmerized by his power and gift. His fluid gestures and commanding invocations struck my heart in different tones. It seemed to me that Henry Deerwolf was one with his craft, that he didn’t just work with the elements, but moved in them, as them, himself.

One particular day, after several seasons with him, Deerwolf told me it was time, that I was ready to be initiated. It was mid-Spring and the land was starting to rejoice in the fertile promises of Summer. He took me outside next to a well at the edge of the village. He held up one of his most sacred talismans I saw him use regularly in his ceremonies, a long and wide feather. I didn’t know what type of feather it was, what bird gave it to him, but it was three feet long, at least, and its width was the size of a book.

Deerwolf spoke to me of the ancient times as he ran the feather over me and counseled on the seriousness of the appointment that was now being bestowed upon me. That this power and commitment was not to be taken lightly. Deerwolf turned to the well and told me the rocks that held the deep waters for the tribe would reveal my path. He had me run my hands down a visible shaft, and as the rock and dust ran underneath my hands Deerwolf could hear them speak to my sincerity and the prophecy of my future. He said they revealed that my heart was pure, but this alone was not enough. If this was all there was needed, I would have arrived at this moment long before now. Yet, now, they agreed with Deerwolf, I was ready.

Deerwolf directed, “Nature will talk to you and be your guide. You will be strong in the ways of medicine. The waters follow you, and you will ripple into many lives on your journey. Yet, you will walk estranged from those around you.”

At the end of every ceremony, Henry Deerwolf gave an offering to the initiate as a sign of respect for the charge they now carried the rest of their walk upon this Earth, for the tribe, for mankind. I was curious, what would he give me? He reaches out and hands me his feather, which he had had for years and was his most used talisman.

“This is Long Bow.” He held it out to me. “You will carry this on your journey. Long Bow will answer your questions and lead you when you feel you have no direction. Long Bow will be your best tool in all areas of your travel. It is yours.”

Astounded, by the magnitude of the gift. I stared at Long Bow and then back at Deerwolf. I asked, incredulously, “Are you sure I am to have this? This is so important to you. You never let it leave your side. This is like your most sacred talisman.”

“Long Bow speaks to you, now. Keep it well.” He said. He showed me how to treat and take care of the feather. It was my first talisman. Though as all talismans are, I did not possess it, it partnered with me on my quests.

Over the years, I have come to understand what that really means. Long Bow and I have become so intertwined we seem to be one. Where his power and mine merge or overlap, it is hard to say anymore. As it was for Deerwolf, so has the feather been to me, my most used talisman. As other talismans have joined me, Long Bow remains the one I keep at my side, always. And at times, during the night, when I sit at the fire and stars blaze over head, I hear Henry Deerwolf’s voice emanate from it, as Long Bow tells me of the quests they journeyed on together. I wonder, sometimes, when Long Bow will ask me to let him go? Whether my own voice will pour one day from him as he shares our stories with the next shaman he travels? Yet that is the nature of Long Bow. He chronicles the call and ways of the ancients as is demanded of him by the wind for which he was created. Deerwolf and I are but chapters in that story. His path is a much longer road than humans travel. I smile at my dear companion. For now, it is our time, and the tales he will one day tell of us will be rich with boldness and fire and gentle lullabies that rock a branch to slumber. I turn my attention back to the feather’s story and treasure the sound of Deerwolf in my head and the power of Long Bow in my heart.