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A young boy in the tribe had fallen in love with a young girl from another tribe. Everyday the young boy would cross the plains to see her. They found comfort in each other since they both had been hurt in the past. They both had suffered hardship. They had seen loved ones taken by sickness and killed while hunting. They had both known famine and drought, despite their youth. Together, they would walk down the river and by the canyons. They laughed about the goings on in the tribes, dreaming of the time when they came of age to marry. Two full seasons had passed, and the time came for the young boy to participate in the rite of passage, so he could become a hunter and a man in his tribe. To do this, after the fall harvest he had to leave the tribe and brave the winter alone. This would prove that he was strong and wise enough to provide for a family. The young girl feared for him, she knew it was a dangerous time. The young man reassured her; “I have learned much from my tribe, I am ready… I WILL return to you.” He smiled and bowed to her, as was their custom. Then gathered his bow and pack and disappeared into the hills. Each day the young woman watched the horizon, hoping to see him and praying for his safety as the last of the leaves fell.
The long winter was hard and the young man’s skills were tested. Each night at his campfire he would find comfort in the dream of his bride to be. He would close his eyes and imagine the furs he wore to shield him from the cold were the arms of his bride to be. He looked into the skies and wondered where she was, and what she was doing. It was the fuel that kept him going when he nearly starved; it was the thought that warmed him when he nearly froze. Soon, the bitter winds of winter began to change. One day while hunting the young man happened across a small tree… something caught his eye. He approached and looked closer to find a small green sprout coming from what looked like a barren limb. He smiled because he knew what this meant. His trial was over, he was a man and the time had come to return to his bride. With a deep sigh he gathered his belongings and made his way across the valley, heading for home.
As he approached the plains that separated their villages his eyes scanned the horizon, looking for his bride to be… but she wasn’t there. “She probably had duties in her village” he told himself as he continued on to his own village. The rest of his tribe celebrated at his return offering arrows and pelts as was their custom. He went to the village elder, the wise woman of the tribe and keeper of its history. “I have returned” he declared. The wise woman just nodded her head in silence. “What’s wrong elder?” he asked with concern growing in his chest. “Have you seen my bride? Has she been here?” The wise woman shook her head, and remained silent. “Did she… did she survive the winter?” he asked with a slight quiver in his voice. The wise woman nodded, “yes, she did, but she has met a warrior from her tribe and they are to be married with the next moon.” The wise woman raised her aged eyes and said “You must let her go.” In angry disbelief the man said “She is my life! How do I make her love me again! She has to…” the wise woman held up her hand interrupting him. “Repeat your words again” she asked. Confused, the man did as he was told. “How do I make her love me?” Once more the wise woman held her hand up and said “again, slower” Starting to feel frustrated he spoke again “how… do I… make…” The wise woman raised her hand again stopping him short, but said nothing. “You must go now, today you are a man” and with her palm made a gesture for him to leave, which he did. Now a man and hunter in his tribe, he wondered what the wise woman was trying to tell him. She carried the wisdom of a hundred families and 90 seasons. The hunter walked across the plains that separated the tribes, to the place where he had always met his bride to be. As her village came into sight the man stopped. In that moment, he realized what the wise woman meant. “It’s not my place to MAKE her love me. It is for her to choose just as it was for me” The hunter sat against a tree; unsure of what to do, he could only watch as the afternoon sky grew dim and turned to night. Slowly, a full moon began to rise and the sound of celebration could be heard from her tribes’ village. “If she loves me because I make her… then I’m being selfish. All I want is for her to be happy… with… or without… me” The hunter now understood the burden every man must face. He rose to his feet, gathered his bow, and started walking across the plains back to his tribe. – The Wise Woman of Folklore-
Sometimes it’s hard to realize what is right, and even harder to actually DO it. We never know what the next winter will bring, so it’s important to keep in mind that service to others, may sometimes mean depriving yourself.
