We are not but the ashes of our ancestors, held by the froth of their tears and fashioned into clay effigies by their hopes. We walk through the woods in search of our paths, and we see the glowing embers of our ancestors’ fires burning orange through the leaves to guide us. When we call out, we hear their voices echo back, hollow and faint.
When I was a child, I didn’t understand my journey and I couldn’t see their light. To me, everything would last for all time, and there was never a beginning or end. The crow was not but a bird, and his brother the vulture was not but a hovering phantasm, unseen. The fox and the wolf played with the rabbit, but I didn’t know where; the coyote yipped and the snake rattled, and the fish all swam away. The woods, my journey, was frightening enough without them.
When I grew into a young man, I became aware of the woods around me, of the animals nearby, but I still did not see my ancestors’ fires, and I did not hear their voices. The crow flew ahead of me, and the vulture remained aloft. The fox, wolf and rabbit all seemed to fear me and kept their distance; the fish and snakes just hissed.
When I realized I was older, I began to see the fires out there among the leaves. I wondered after them, sometimes in quiet contemplation, sometimes angrily, sometimes with fear in my heart. I yearned to know who they were, who I was, and who I would become because of them. The crow hung from the branches above me, neither guiding me, nor fearing me. The vulture dipped below the clouds, his watchful eye always upon me. The fox and wolf now hunted alongside me, the rabbit dashing away.
When I began to slow down very much, I began to see the woods more clearly, and I realized I was no longer searching for a path; I had always been there. Now the crow guided me, lost as a lamb, forward toward the end. My ancestors’ fires glowed brightly through the fog, almost as if I could reach out and touch them myself. The fox and wolf no longer feared me, nor did they open their jaws at me. The rabbit no longer ran away. They waited for me to notice the vulture above, staring down silently; the one who would eventually help me light the fire.
When I came to the end of my journey, the crow, the fox, the wolf, and the rabbit bid me farewell. Without any guides, I found a soft piece of earth and sat down. From above, the vulture spiraled down until he reached the ground beside me. With his help, I lit a fire, closed my eyes, and waited. I would guide the way for my ancestors’ that were to follow; I would call out to them when they were frightened and I would greet them when they reached the end. Just like me. Just like mine. To bear witness to our trials. To bear witness to this holy existence.