Shaman on the Run, part 5: The hunt for wisdom
This story was made possible by native american mythology, totem-spirits and ancient Norse Mythology.
This is the part I like best about being a shaman. The ability to change into a wolf.
As with all shamanic abilities I have studied it thoroughly. Trying to find exactly how it works, why it works, what you can do with it. But I always start with two questions:
Is it real? And where does it come from?
The stories told during the Orc Rampage were terrible and vicious. Telling of normal Draenei corrupted in body and mind. Some displayed the same magical abilities as the Orcs . Some turned to worship the same dark power as the Orcs.
We didn`t see the difference between shamanic and warlock magic.
Even now there are doubts. Is a shaman less devoted to the Light? How exactly do the Light and shamanism relate to each other? Is one superior? Are they enemies? Are they complimentary? The Prophet Velen won`t share his wisdom with us on this topic, instead saying that:
“It`s about the journey, not the destination. I can say no more without harming the Third Virtue. But we will need Shamans to prevent a catastrophy.”
Priests and Shamans did try to work out a common framework, but the process had run aground on various issues. I don`t know which. At the time the debate I was… too busy to bother about philosophy.
As I researched this ability I realized I had made a mistake. I understood the technique. I needed to know more of the animal in question. So I studied wolves of all kinds. The more I studied the more I started to like them. Yes, they are ruthless hunters, but they have to, as their original lands are inhospitable. Behind the stories of marauding bloodthirsty butchers was another story. A story of family and loving parents. A story of cooperation and looking out for one other. Playful puppies and playful adults. I once saw a wolf parent surrounded by loudly yipping puppies biting him everywhere. He even had one hanging on every ear and two on his tail. Yet he didn`t complain. He never snapped. He played along.
True, that same wolf would kill you for your meat. Not for himself, for his family. How can anyone fault the wolf for that?
This, coupled with reassurances that shape changing was normal for a Shaman, dispelled my doubts.
Then Farseer Nobundu dropped us, his pupils, off in Kalimdor to go on a vision-quest. We fasted and waited alone in the wild. We were spread out for miles, with no contact with each other. Waiting for something. The Farseer had not told us what to wait for. At the beginning of the fourth day I awoke with a start in my medicine-wheel. Someone had called to me. I strained my ears but there was nothing to hear except the wind. So I sat up, drank some water and waited again.
Someone spoke. I turned to the forests edge. It was still twilight. The sun was a sliver over the edge of the mountains. But I was wide awake. In truth I had a hard time to sit still. I felt the need to run. Run fast and long. Chase something. As always I examined this urge thoroughly. I distrust sudden urges.
I remembered I always liked running. Swimming was okay. Riding was difficult, Elekks were always on edge around me. They still are, as are all beasts of burden. But running? I loved running. As a child, if a game involved running, I was in. Always. Chasing was even better.
I remembered one time I was ill in bed in the morning, my energy drained even after sleeping. Then Tijor came round, unaware of my illness and asked to come play Villains and Vindicators, a chasing game. I stood up, dressed and ran for hours on end. Chasing Villains all across the meadow, around the mill, through the Elekk herd (dangerous given their nervosity around me).
Even now, I believe that if I hadn`t ran past the smithy where my mom worked, I would have run all day. She saw me running, pale as a ghost, eyes burning. She dropped the elegant iron fence she was working on (ruining it), chased me (I don`t like that), caught me (again I don`t like that) carried me home, put me in my bed. She grounded me for a month. Before the week was out, every child was ill.
I recognized the need to run as a natural one. That left me with the problem of the medicine-wheel. The exercise was to remain in your own wheel and wait. The wheel could be made out of anything natural. I found some sticks in the forest which I jammed in the ground. It was not unlike a fortress. Nobundu had sighed when he saw that. The wheel needed four markers for the four elements, preferably something similar to each element. I had picked up some rocks from the nearby stream, quarry and elsewhere. We were allowed outside to stretch our legs but not for long. If a circle didn`t “feel” right we could rebuild it and consecrate it.
I was nervous and fidgety. My eyes fell on some grass I had toyed with yesterday. It still lay in the figures I had made. An idea came to me. I jumped up, ran to the stream, tore reeds out of the bedding, roots and all. Then I ran back and plucked a bunch of tall grass. I worked feverishly in my wheel. The end result was not pretty, but it was sturdy. I had fashioned a medicine wheel of reeds, with grass as elements. As my hooves started to itch with the need to run. I consecrated it quickly. I then put it around my waist, closed it and fastened it with twine to my belt.
“Finally!” A voice growled impatiently.
I ran off at full speed to the forest. It seemed the only right choice. Elation filled me as each stride hit the ground. Air whipped around my ears. I laughed happily as I ran miles and jumped logs and streams. I fell sometimes, but laughed anyway. I saw an hairy tail and started to chase it. It noticed and ran faster. I let him get ahead a bit to conserve energy. I hadn`t eaten for four days, so it was only right.
Yet, no matter what my prey did, I kept on his tail. He tried sprinting, odd leaps, tearing though bushes so I could not see him. He even forced me to run through prickly bushes or lose him. The thought of jumping never crossed my mind. I plowed through it and carried half the bush with me for a mile. Finally, as the sun started to set we arrived at a rise. My prey had nowhere to go. I had lost sight of it, but somehow I managed to keep track of it.
There in the twilight of the dying sun was my prey. Sitting on his haunches looking at me. He said:
“Good. You will do.”
It was the largest and blackest wolf I had seen. His eyes were bright shining gold discs with a darkness in the middle that was both frightening and comforting. This wolf knew me. My weaknesses and strengths. My greatest and my worst moments. It saw my shame. He accepted it all.
“My name is Old-Wolf-That-Hunts-The-Sun-Until-End-of-World. You are worthy to be my student.”
In what I thought? The wolf replied as though I had spoken aloud:
“The way of the spirits, shamanism. We wolf-shamans do thing differently to the Broken-shamans, we do not beg and plead. We hunt and the Elements are our pack-mates. We are Wolves, we hunt.”
Us wolves? What do you mean?
“Me, you, them.”
Although he moved not an inch, not his jaws to speak nor his muzzle to point, I knew ‘them’ were all the wolves in existence.
But wait, I am not a wolf, I am a Draenei!
“Your body is Draenei. You were brought up as a Draenei. But your spirit is a Wolf. Haven`t you noticed the similarities? The need to hunt? The need for a family? Your finely honed intuition?”
What? No! I like running a lot and family is important of course. But hunting? No. As for intuition, I don`t trust it, it is unreliable. Logic is better.
The Wolf winced, then sighed.
“Student, if you don`t like hunting, why did you chase me?”
I blinked, wondering why. I knew if felt good, running was good, but lonesome. Chasing was trying to catch someone or something important to you. I then tried to reason this out. Old Wolf snapped at me:
“No! Don`t think! Thinking is slow and Logic slower still. As hunters we don`t have the time to reason. If we don`t act, the prey escapes. You know what your mistake is, student?”
I shook my head. Part of me agreed to Old Wolf`s words. The part of me covered in darkness and evil deeds.
“You think intuition is just a gut feeling? Whimsical? It isn`t. Intuition is decades of experience. Intuition is insight. Intuition is perfect clarity.”
But, when I acted on impulse, I did some terrible things…
“No. You did what needed to be done. You needed to survive, your people needed to survive. You only think those actions were irredeemably evil….”
Old Wolf stopped himself.
“…But I see you can`t accept that now. Suffice to say that intuition is experience. I see more questions in you student, ask them all.”
Odd name... Wolf Hunting..
“Old-Wolf-That-Hunts-The –Sun- Until-End-of-World. I hunt the sun, making it go around. I have not caught it yet, but my prey is getting tired.”
He grinned at the prospect of catching the sun. I was unsure what would happen when a wolf, even one as mighty as this, would encounter a tremendous ball of burning gas.
“I kill him and bring back food for my children.”
That made sense. The logical part of me that thought of stars and nebulae whimpered, gave up and curled up to sleep.
“If you do well and I`ll give you first feed, but the heart is mine.”
Reasonable. I was one of the wolves after all. I would have to ask how to earn that first choice.
“Learn. Hunt corrupted elements. I can`t hunt them myself, they are far too easy. But it has to be done, they must be culled. Cull the sick and the corrupted, cull everything that is wrong. Do that for me and earn the first feed. You can do it, you have done so before.”
I remembered those horrible days. Old Wolf snapped, again:
“No! You did well! You killed the right prey! They were sick, diseased, corrupted! You hunted like all wolves before you and after you. We hunt the wrong, we remove wrongness from the world. We do this for our family, so they can live in a right world.”
I understood. I wanted to learn how to hunt. I listened to all he had to say. I disagreed on some issues. We argued and fought tooth and nail. He bit me often, but he didn`t do that because I disagreed. He only bit me to show he was the teacher and I the student.
This story was made possible by native american mythology, totem-spirits and ancient Norse Mythology.
This is the part I like best about being a shaman. The ability to change into a wolf.
As with all shamanic abilities I have studied it thoroughly. Trying to find exactly how it works, why it works, what you can do with it. But I always start with two questions:
Is it real? And where does it come from?
The stories told during the Orc Rampage were terrible and vicious. Telling of normal Draenei corrupted in body and mind. Some displayed the same magical abilities as the Orcs . Some turned to worship the same dark power as the Orcs.
We didn`t see the difference between shamanic and warlock magic.
Even now there are doubts. Is a shaman less devoted to the Light? How exactly do the Light and shamanism relate to each other? Is one superior? Are they enemies? Are they complimentary? The Prophet Velen won`t share his wisdom with us on this topic, instead saying that:
“It`s about the journey, not the destination. I can say no more without harming the Third Virtue. But we will need Shamans to prevent a catastrophy.”
Priests and Shamans did try to work out a common framework, but the process had run aground on various issues. I don`t know which. At the time the debate I was… too busy to bother about philosophy.
As I researched this ability I realized I had made a mistake. I understood the technique. I needed to know more of the animal in question. So I studied wolves of all kinds. The more I studied the more I started to like them. Yes, they are ruthless hunters, but they have to, as their original lands are inhospitable. Behind the stories of marauding bloodthirsty butchers was another story. A story of family and loving parents. A story of cooperation and looking out for one other. Playful puppies and playful adults. I once saw a wolf parent surrounded by loudly yipping puppies biting him everywhere. He even had one hanging on every ear and two on his tail. Yet he didn`t complain. He never snapped. He played along.
True, that same wolf would kill you for your meat. Not for himself, for his family. How can anyone fault the wolf for that?
This, coupled with reassurances that shape changing was normal for a Shaman, dispelled my doubts.
Then Farseer Nobundu dropped us, his pupils, off in Kalimdor to go on a vision-quest. We fasted and waited alone in the wild. We were spread out for miles, with no contact with each other. Waiting for something. The Farseer had not told us what to wait for. At the beginning of the fourth day I awoke with a start in my medicine-wheel. Someone had called to me. I strained my ears but there was nothing to hear except the wind. So I sat up, drank some water and waited again.
Someone spoke. I turned to the forests edge. It was still twilight. The sun was a sliver over the edge of the mountains. But I was wide awake. In truth I had a hard time to sit still. I felt the need to run. Run fast and long. Chase something. As always I examined this urge thoroughly. I distrust sudden urges.
I remembered I always liked running. Swimming was okay. Riding was difficult, Elekks were always on edge around me. They still are, as are all beasts of burden. But running? I loved running. As a child, if a game involved running, I was in. Always. Chasing was even better.
I remembered one time I was ill in bed in the morning, my energy drained even after sleeping. Then Tijor came round, unaware of my illness and asked to come play Villains and Vindicators, a chasing game. I stood up, dressed and ran for hours on end. Chasing Villains all across the meadow, around the mill, through the Elekk herd (dangerous given their nervosity around me).
Even now, I believe that if I hadn`t ran past the smithy where my mom worked, I would have run all day. She saw me running, pale as a ghost, eyes burning. She dropped the elegant iron fence she was working on (ruining it), chased me (I don`t like that), caught me (again I don`t like that) carried me home, put me in my bed. She grounded me for a month. Before the week was out, every child was ill.
I recognized the need to run as a natural one. That left me with the problem of the medicine-wheel. The exercise was to remain in your own wheel and wait. The wheel could be made out of anything natural. I found some sticks in the forest which I jammed in the ground. It was not unlike a fortress. Nobundu had sighed when he saw that. The wheel needed four markers for the four elements, preferably something similar to each element. I had picked up some rocks from the nearby stream, quarry and elsewhere. We were allowed outside to stretch our legs but not for long. If a circle didn`t “feel” right we could rebuild it and consecrate it.
I was nervous and fidgety. My eyes fell on some grass I had toyed with yesterday. It still lay in the figures I had made. An idea came to me. I jumped up, ran to the stream, tore reeds out of the bedding, roots and all. Then I ran back and plucked a bunch of tall grass. I worked feverishly in my wheel. The end result was not pretty, but it was sturdy. I had fashioned a medicine wheel of reeds, with grass as elements. As my hooves started to itch with the need to run. I consecrated it quickly. I then put it around my waist, closed it and fastened it with twine to my belt.
“Finally!” A voice growled impatiently.
I ran off at full speed to the forest. It seemed the only right choice. Elation filled me as each stride hit the ground. Air whipped around my ears. I laughed happily as I ran miles and jumped logs and streams. I fell sometimes, but laughed anyway. I saw an hairy tail and started to chase it. It noticed and ran faster. I let him get ahead a bit to conserve energy. I hadn`t eaten for four days, so it was only right.
Yet, no matter what my prey did, I kept on his tail. He tried sprinting, odd leaps, tearing though bushes so I could not see him. He even forced me to run through prickly bushes or lose him. The thought of jumping never crossed my mind. I plowed through it and carried half the bush with me for a mile. Finally, as the sun started to set we arrived at a rise. My prey had nowhere to go. I had lost sight of it, but somehow I managed to keep track of it.
There in the twilight of the dying sun was my prey. Sitting on his haunches looking at me. He said:
“Good. You will do.”
It was the largest and blackest wolf I had seen. His eyes were bright shining gold discs with a darkness in the middle that was both frightening and comforting. This wolf knew me. My weaknesses and strengths. My greatest and my worst moments. It saw my shame. He accepted it all.
“My name is Old-Wolf-That-Hunts-The-Sun-Until-End-of-World. You are worthy to be my student.”
In what I thought? The wolf replied as though I had spoken aloud:
“The way of the spirits, shamanism. We wolf-shamans do thing differently to the Broken-shamans, we do not beg and plead. We hunt and the Elements are our pack-mates. We are Wolves, we hunt.”
Us wolves? What do you mean?
“Me, you, them.”
Although he moved not an inch, not his jaws to speak nor his muzzle to point, I knew ‘them’ were all the wolves in existence.
But wait, I am not a wolf, I am a Draenei!
“Your body is Draenei. You were brought up as a Draenei. But your spirit is a Wolf. Haven`t you noticed the similarities? The need to hunt? The need for a family? Your finely honed intuition?”
What? No! I like running a lot and family is important of course. But hunting? No. As for intuition, I don`t trust it, it is unreliable. Logic is better.
The Wolf winced, then sighed.
“Student, if you don`t like hunting, why did you chase me?”
I blinked, wondering why. I knew if felt good, running was good, but lonesome. Chasing was trying to catch someone or something important to you. I then tried to reason this out. Old Wolf snapped at me:
“No! Don`t think! Thinking is slow and Logic slower still. As hunters we don`t have the time to reason. If we don`t act, the prey escapes. You know what your mistake is, student?”
I shook my head. Part of me agreed to Old Wolf`s words. The part of me covered in darkness and evil deeds.
“You think intuition is just a gut feeling? Whimsical? It isn`t. Intuition is decades of experience. Intuition is insight. Intuition is perfect clarity.”
But, when I acted on impulse, I did some terrible things…
“No. You did what needed to be done. You needed to survive, your people needed to survive. You only think those actions were irredeemably evil….”
Old Wolf stopped himself.
“…But I see you can`t accept that now. Suffice to say that intuition is experience. I see more questions in you student, ask them all.”
Odd name... Wolf Hunting..
“Old-Wolf-That-Hunts-The –Sun- Until-End-of-World. I hunt the sun, making it go around. I have not caught it yet, but my prey is getting tired.”
He grinned at the prospect of catching the sun. I was unsure what would happen when a wolf, even one as mighty as this, would encounter a tremendous ball of burning gas.
“I kill him and bring back food for my children.”
That made sense. The logical part of me that thought of stars and nebulae whimpered, gave up and curled up to sleep.
“If you do well and I`ll give you first feed, but the heart is mine.”
Reasonable. I was one of the wolves after all. I would have to ask how to earn that first choice.
“Learn. Hunt corrupted elements. I can`t hunt them myself, they are far too easy. But it has to be done, they must be culled. Cull the sick and the corrupted, cull everything that is wrong. Do that for me and earn the first feed. You can do it, you have done so before.”
I remembered those horrible days. Old Wolf snapped, again:
“No! You did well! You killed the right prey! They were sick, diseased, corrupted! You hunted like all wolves before you and after you. We hunt the wrong, we remove wrongness from the world. We do this for our family, so they can live in a right world.”
I understood. I wanted to learn how to hunt. I listened to all he had to say. I disagreed on some issues. We argued and fought tooth and nail. He bit me often, but he didn`t do that because I disagreed. He only bit me to show he was the teacher and I the student.
Last edited by Qure`thell on Tue Dec 07, 2010 12:33 am; edited 9 times in total
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