The evening, covered in a veil of frost, settled into tranquility as the fifth hour of darkness approached. Bare tree limbs, jagged, with a few dangling leaves, glistened in the moonlight. An intermittent hoot of an owl and the occasional rustling leaves, stirred by an animal making its way through the dark, broke the night’s silence. Teepees, illuminated by their central fires, sent puffs of smoke billowing from their tops, vanishing into the night. The small, glowing conical structures paled in comparison to the radiant full October moon. Its brilliance and magnitude gave it a regal aura as it floated amongst the sparkling stars and distant planets, commanding reverence from all those fortunate enough to be in its presence. As though their song of praise, the howling of a small pack of wolves reverberated throughout the forest.
The week of festivities celebrating the return of the earth’s nightly companion had come to an end. Held every October, it was especially significant this year, for it marked the 200th anniversary of the moon’s return. The jubilant ceremonies, feasts, dancing, and athletic contests, tired the people of the village, who lay slumbering beneath the big, round, glowing guest of honor.
Only one stirred – Running Wolf. She had been to fourteen Return of the Moon celebrations, although she had no recollection of the first few. With energy still zapping through body and mind, she tossed restlessly. Unanswered questions about the disturbing details of the festival’s origins circulated relentlessly in her mind. Overtaken by the taunting queries, Running Wolf slipped into her moccasins, wrapped herself snugly in a red woolen blanket, and pushed through the front flaps of the teepee, entering the cold night. Her lean figure, running effortlessly, was silhouetted by the brilliant moonbeam. Inhaling deeply, she puffed out small clouds of breath that lingered before her.
Reaching the northern-most teepee in the village, a place of honor reserved for the oldest, wisest tribal elder, Running Wolf paused, crouching next to the teepee. A few intermittent, staccato snores, came from Singing Owl, who lay tucked inside with vivid, prognostic dreams floating through her slumbering mind. A very long life and an inquisitive nature gave her the insight and wisdom she now possesses.
Running Wolf knelt beside the protective flap that served as the teepee’s door. Mimicking the howl of a wolf to announce her presence, she awakened the elder. Singing Owl sat straight up, immediately recognizing the call of her young friend, and quickly pushed the flap open. A single long braid, mostly gray with sparse evidence of her once black hair, draped over one shoulder. Her body, wiry and thin, and sparkling eyes gave Singing Owl the appearance of being much younger than her advanced 132 years. Although her mind was still as active and curious as in her youth, her body exhibited signs of aging. Nonetheless, Singing Owl greeted each new day with a prayer, followed by a slow run through the surrounding forest to a nearby stream. There she shed her clothes, submerging herself in the current that bubbled and swirled, licking and tingling her body. A ritual since childhood, Singing Owl occasionally shares the routine with young Running Wolf.
“What are you doing up this late?” Singing Owl asked her friend, glancing at the sky to check the time. “Ah. Something is bothering you.” Singing Owl nodded before Running Wolf uttered a word.
“It’s the Return of the Moon Festival,” blurted Running Wolf. “I want to know what it really means. I understand it’s to honor our magnificent moon’s reappearance, but why,” she pleaded, “why did it disappear for so long?”
“Come inside.” Singing Owl signaled with a wave of her hand. Sitting cross legged, they faced one another; Singing Owl’s expression turned sullen. “It’s very complicated.” She took a slow deep breath, repeatedly running her hands over her long braid. “There’s no one single reason why the moon vanished for such a long time and it didn’t simply disappear.”
Running Wolf’s eyes widened, begging her to continue.
“It was the result of many cataclysmic events caused by too many people living misguided lives with the wrong values,” Singing Owl went on.
“What does that mean? Misguided in what way?” Running Wolf sat captivated, eager for answers.
The elder began divulging the troubling history. “Thousands of years ago, our ancestors, who were born on this land, lived their lives in accordance with nature. They believed all things had a soul – the animals, plants, insects, the air, water, and the earth itself. We treated all with respect, offering thanks for sustaining our lives, and taking only what we needed to subsist. Of course there were conflicts at times, but for the most part, life on this land was harmonious. Then things started to change. Strangers from a distant land washed up on our shores. Although they appeared peculiar to us with their ghost-like complexions and odd shades of hair, we welcomed them, sharing our food and giving them shelter. When they departed, we bestowed them with gifts, unaware they were plotting to kidnap many of our people, shackle them, and load them on their huge boats to take them back to their far away land as souvenirs and servants – slaves.” Singing Owl sighed and continued. “Soon, many more of these pale strangers washed up on our beaches. Once again, we fed these people, showing them the ways of our land. They grew in numbers at astounding rates and dug their stakes into the earth, claiming everything to be theirs. Wars ensued. Outnumbered, our people were defeated and banished to small, barren, impoverished parcels of land called reservations. Our society, spirits broken, sunk into sickness.”
The world around us changed,” continued Singing Owl, shaking her head. “These people thought they could improve on Mother Nature’s perfection. This attitude and a turning away from nature became a worldwide epidemic. The earth was gouged and stripped of its ores. Giant factories sprang up, spewing poisons into the air to manufacture things humans didn’t really need. Unable to walk long distances, they created little boxes on wheels, propelled by mechanical engines. The engines drank liquid fossil fuel, extracted from deep in the earth to function. The wheeled boxes created more poisonous smoke. The earth, water, and air were being polluted to make life better, easier, and more efficient, or so they thought. The air began to smell foul. In many places a smoky acrid haze blanketed the skies.”
“Then!” Singing Owl thrust her arm, finger pointed, straight over her head; her voice grew louder. “They did one of the worst and dumbest things ever! They poisoned their own food! To grow more crops and make it last longer, they added toxic chemicals to the plants, which was absorbed into the flesh and bloodstreams of all who ate it. The poisons spread, making the water too toxic to drink. One could no longer sip water from streams and rivers; it was laced with dangerous chemical concoctions. To cure their self-induced ills, they created artificial medicines, which caused more ailments. Synthetic medicine to kill bacteria and viruses caused strains to grow stronger than the medicines. Many people fell prey to the disease brought on by these super viruses. Yet, despite this, they continued to believe their way was the best – the greatest!”
”I don’t understand,” interrupted Running Wolf. “Why would they do such horrible things to the earth and therefore to themselves?”
“If you have to pinpoint one singular driving force behind all their ridiculous actions, I’d have to say it was greed.” Singing Wolf began to chuckle, again shaking her head. “It’s really quite silly. One of the main things they were after, which caused all the destruction, were little yellow metallic rocks. For some reason, they thought the more rocks they had, the better they were. Soon, everything in society revolved around the little yellow rocks, dug and gorged from the depths of Mother Earth. Eventually, it was too cumbersome to carry all their rocks around, so they created special pieces of paper to represent the rocks. Now the object was to collect as many of these papers as possible, and those who had more papers were revered as great people. Those most driven by greed formed alliances, cooperated, and worked together in groups. These corporations developed ways to control the food and everything people needed. People had to have these special papers to obtain food, clothing, and shelter. Basically, you needed these papers for everything you did. People went crazy for the papers, often killing each other for them. Factories continued to spit toxins into the environment, manufacturing more objects people could trade their papers for. This generated greater mounds of papers for the factory owners. Sadly, most societies around the world worshipped the symbolic paper and its little yellow rocks.”
“That’s why the moon vanished?” Running Wolf questioned with a tone of disbelief.
“No, not exactly but it contributed to the ruination of the once pristine environment. The other thing large groups of people lusted after was land. Like with the little yellow rocks, the more land people could claim as their own, the more powerful they thought they were. Little did they know, they were weakening themselves. Already sickened in body, mind, and spirit by superficial values and the polluted earth, people began waging wars on one another with the primary goal being to gain greater portions of the earth for themselves or their group. Powerful weapons were created to defeat other groups and take control of their land. For hundreds of years, groups of people killed other groups, each time increasing the magnitude of their arsenal and its destructive capabilities. Millions lay slain, as the living continued to fight for more land and more little yellow rocks.
People also went to war, blowing up the land and one another, to prove their god was better than the other people’s god. They wanted to demonstrate and convince the world that their religion was the best – the right one that all should follow – all while claiming their god was full of love and compassion. For this reason, blood was shed, cutting short the lives of millions of people throughout the centuries. Eventually, there was no tolerance between groups. Every aspect and layer of society was divided; weapons pointed in every direction.
While all this was going on, a small number or corporations and individuals were siphoning all the special little papers out of everyone’s pockets, inflating their own wealth. They got richer as everyone else struggled, grasping for the papers to survive, but that was not enough. They wanted to control the entire world, so they developed machines and robots to think and act on their behalf. These artificially intelligent entities gained power and strength. Initially, they replaced the workers, but, uncontrolled they went rogue and began taking over everything and destroying all in their path.
The few whose lives were not dominated by greed tried putting a stop to the madness, but they were outnumbered by everyone and everything. Alas, the world went to war three times, the third being cataclysmic. The small groups of our ancestors who remained huddled on their tiny, allotted plots of land did not fight. One by one, societies were blown into oblivion. Weapons became so powerful that they vaporized all in their path, sending clouds of chemical-laden dust particles into the atmosphere. Within the span of eleven moons, the earth and all of man’s creations lay in ruins. The mass destruction sent so much debris into the sky that the world was covered under the dark blanket of particles for hundreds of years. The only survivors were a small band of our people who lived in the area of least destruction.”
“Where was that?” asked Running Wolf.
“In the northeastern corner of what was once called the United States of America. Fortunately, many species of animals also survived. Gradually, the earth began to cleanse herself, but the skies remained under the dark haze for several hundred years. Only small amounts of sunlight penetrated through. The moon, being much weaker than the sun, didn’t have the strength to shine through the thick dust clouds. Great storms, floods, and earthquakes erupted creating a cleansing process. Over time, the particle clouds dissipated and the skies brightened.
During this period of cleansing, our small tribe strengthened. We returned to the ways of our early ancestors, only taking from the earth what we could completely utilize. Our existence was once again pure and natural, and in harmony with nature. Together, man and the natural world went through a second evolution, returning all to a pristine state.
The eve when the moon was finally in full view, no longer blocked by the debris of destruction, is what we now celebrate. We honor not only the reappearance of the earth’s bright nightly companion, but also a return to a balanced way of life. There no longer exists those who wish to stab and gouge the earth for the little yellow rocks, which are once again buried beneath the soil.”
Both sat in silence. Trying to digest the horrifying tale of history, Running Wolf asked, “Do you mean I couldn’t drink from any stream without it being tainted with poisons? Even the fruit and vegetables grown in the earth caused disease?”
“Unfortunately,” answered Singing Owl, “that’s the way things had become. There were those who tried to protect the earth and return it to a clean state of existence, but they, like us, were overpowered by the greed seekers.”
The two talked for hours into the night until sleep overtook them. The first glimmer of morning light woke Running Wolf, who slipped outside to eagerly greet the dawn with a newfound appreciation. She was surprised to see Singing Owl already up, going through her morning stretching routine under the clear blue sky.
“Let’s go for a run to the stream,” suggested Singing Owl, adding, “but not too fast, I’m not as young and spry as I was when I was 100!” Side by side, the two companions began a slow plodding jog. Still thinking about the events leading to the Return of the Moon Festival and with a new heightened sense of awareness, Running Wolf took notice of every little thing – every tree, plant, stone, and sound of scurrying animals filled her senses.
Approaching the stream, they crouched along its banks. Singing Owl splashed the cold, crystal clear water on her face, as Running Wolf drank from cupped hands. The sound of the water running against the rocks was so soothing. Gazing into the sparkling water, Running Wolf grabbed at a shiny object tumbling below the surface. Holding it in her outstretched palm, she examined its many facets, commenting, “It’s so pretty.” Singing Owl snatched it from her hand, laughing, “It’s one of those little yellow rocks I told you about last night!”
Running Wolf’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot straight up. “Well,” she remarked, “it really is beautiful but it’s not worth destroying the world over!”
Singing Owl handed the rock back to the young girl, who, looking it over one last time, threw it back into the stream. The two watched it tumble away with the current.
Looking skyward, Running Wolf searched for the moon, a harder task during daylight hours, but there it was, in full figure, floating in the azure sky dotted with puffy white clouds. A smile spread across Running Wolf’s face, as she realized how fortunate she was to live in its presence, and in a world once again so pure.
The End.