What disappointment can feel like. In Lakota ceremonial traditions, maybe Native American tradition in general, the coyote is the trickster. He comes and pulls the stakes from your sweat lodge, causing it to collapse in the middle of your sacred ceremony. He sabotages your very serious reaching, your aching heart, your well orchestrated social event. You are to view these minor misfortunes and setbacks with good humor, sardonically cursing the coyote under your breath with a smirk, surrendering to his relentless assault on decency. He knows what he does, but feels not for our hearts. Jokes on everyone. The coyote has come and gone. He tipped the lantern and set fire to my hay barn. I cared about that barn. I find it hard to laugh. Absurd! My work, my commitment, the days and nights of loving labor, gone in a moment. There was nothing I could do to prevent it; deus ex machina in the form of a feral dog. I cannot abide this. Not just yet. Im not done mourning. I shall never laugh again, I declare, though for fact I know thats untrue. It just seems a sacrilege to even entertain the thought of smiling. Were supposed to just be cool about it all. Everybody assume the lotus position and sing a song of silliness. Tee hee hee, my chest is a fallen boulder. Ha ha ha, poison is boiling my blood. Oh, coyote, youre such a card. Good one.
Posted on: Mon, 28 Oct 2013 06:34:23 +0000
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