Friday, May 9, 2014
"He walked out at night, during high winds to not disturb the dogs. It was too early for anyone to notice he had done so. His walking stick of Diamond Willow, he had taken as driftwood many years ago that came out from the Yukon river. He found it one Spring while gathering wood for his lodge, and was pleased to use it to help him get around. He walked now for many hours to the south, accompanied with only his Amulet, an ivory carving he made during his Shamanic life when he traveled from village to village. Now he was lame, and old with suffering often too intense to bear. He had left this village for the last time now, with his Amulet of a man, to be his guide to his departure as it had done during his best years. He rested now for a while, near the roots of a driftwood cottonwood to block the building winds and finished his last salmon as he looked out over the Chukchi Sea. The Amulet was warm, as it remained under his tunic, as he now held it in his hand, an old friend whom never left his side. He walked on now, up to the hills, to overlook the sea and the faint smoke of the village to the far north as a swan soared overhead. Sitting now in the wind he removed his tunic and cloak, to his side, he removed all clothing in his song of departure as the Arctic helped his ascension...the Amulet grew cold now, frozen in his hands to be frozen still, a thousand years later."