Wise Words from Ancient Voices

                           Summoning Courage

                                    Impending War

        The air was charged with mixed emotions, within the small enclosure of the council lodge. Inside the dwelling, it was hot and humid as the relentless summer heat penetrated the thick hides covering the tipi. Within the dimly lit interior, sweaty bodies sat next to each other in a tight circle. Many men spoke at the same time, heightening the commotion within the lodge. The humid air became heavy with turmoil. Dancing shadows, created by the flickering firelight, made their concerned features appear distorted. Brows were knitted and jaws clenched in anxiety, as the hum of voices increased in volume. The sound merged with the tendrils of soft, gray wood smoke that wafted from the small, glowing fire the elders sat around. No one noticed as the thin wisps, spiraling upward, floated out through the darkly stained smoke hole at the top of the tipi.

      Intruders had trespassed into their hunting grounds, and their territory. These invaders had a reputation of being an unmerciful, warring tribe. The removal of this new threat to their people needed to be addressed immediately. The protection of their village was of the utmost concern. Though they dare not speak the word aloud, they knew that war was imminent.

        Anxious voices grew louder, but the words were indiscernible within the noisy village. A drum began to beat out a slow thump, thump, thumping rhythm. The womyn, residing within the small village, recognized the symbolic beat and inwardly knew what it meant. The feeling of anxiety rushed through their veins, making their hearts race and pound hard within their chests. Outwardly, though, their faces remained calm. They did not wish to frighten the children, nor did they want create any additional chaos. But their inner dread was evident in the tightening of their faces. Their quickening breath became audible, as it increased to match the foreboding beating in their hearts. Fear wrapped its cold fingers around their spirits and made them tremble inside.

       War, the word remaining unspoken upon their lips, stuck within their throats like a lump, making it difficult to swallow. The voiced word was not needed. All knew their role, and their purpose. Mental pictures of the possible outcome engulfed their minds, drowning out any previous thought. The inevitable loss of life would be felt on both sides. As the unmistaken reality of what was about to take place seeped into their thoughts, it sounded as sharp and brittle as breaking glass, sending shards of fear throughout their entire bodies.

Fragile Life

      Within the birthing lodge, the village mid-wife added small chunks of wood to the dying fire, enticing more light into the dimly lit, small dome structure. She glances over at the young womyn lying upon the bedding of furs, noticing the shadows from the firelight dancing upon the swell of her round belly. The unborn life, growing within her womb, had yet to move into its eighth moon of pregnancy. The midwife elder was concerned; it was not time for this baby to be making its way into the world. The womyn’s body, as if in rebellion to the midwife’s thought, surged into another series of labor pains. The intense pulsations wracked through the young mother’s body in throbbing waves. Grimacing, her breath came loud and fast, as sweat made its way down her soft brown face and body in small rivulets. The young womyn knew it was too early for her baby to be born. Fear for the life of her child, throbbed with each heartbeat, and surged through her veins, immobilizing her spirit.

      The midwife kept a stoic face, as she silently performed her duties. She did not want to frighten the young womyn further, but her eyes revealed her concern. She had seen