"The Way of the Warrior" (excerpt from Journey to the Ancestral Self) by Tamarack Song One evening when the Campfire sparks were jumping high into the blackness, I asked She Who Talks With Loons why there are so few Warriors amongst Civilized People. As usual, I got no answer-at least not one I would recognize as such. Then as I raised my head to look at her across the Fire, she slowly began trans-forming into Raven-black feathers glistening in the firelight, black eyes echoing the dance of the sparks. Her eye caught mine, and we spoke in the voiceless language I was slowly growing accustomed to. In reply to my question, she said (in a way to be sure I took her as stating the obvious), "Because the Path of the Warrior no longer exists for them." Once again, I felt stupid for not being able to see the obvious for myself. Yet I was grateful for her shaming me into seeing what I couldn't see before. I didn't even mind the glint in her eye, which told me she was delighted by the process. We talked on in the company of the dying embers. She played the Inquisitor, helping me to grasp how much I already knew: the remaining Warriors of the Civilized Way had been jailed or executed or banished long, long ago, and any memory of their existence lives on only in legends and fairytales. In these lands where the only sanctioned voices are those of the priest and the politician and the moneychanger, there is no place for those who hear the Mother's Voice. These entrenched rulers fancy their power being threatened by the existence of an allegiance within a realm outside their control. She told me of those she knew who were being called to be Warriors but didn't know the Voice to recognize it. They were out of step with the realm of their existence. They couldn't find a niche for themselves, couldn't find fulfillment, and they didn't know why. They were not happy People. A Warrior, or one whose destiny is to be one, is not an adaptable person and doesn't have the option of choosing another Path. By the sadness in her ember-tinted eyes, I could tell she had nothing to say to them, nothing to offer. I felt it was partly because there was no way she could touch their pain with words. To such a hollow pain, words are as appropriate as snow-shoes are to a Turtle. And it was partly because the form of their culture was so different from hers; there was no ready bridge. They weren't given the time or wherewithal to walk together with the Ancestors and seep themselves in those Old Ways that would give them the oneness of heart to touch on such things. And realistically, there was nothing she alone could offer, there was no place to send them to be guided on their given Path. I sensed her feelings of impotence; I know that a little bit of her died each time a lost, unknowing Warrior walked away from her, because she knew what he was walking into. Bold and ruthless, male, leading a colorful life of glory and adventure, always ready for battle-this is the stereotypical Warrior to the Civilized People. And not surprisingly. They met him as the cutting edge of the worldwide Native resistance to their endless march. His People, his Mother, and his lifeway were under seige; he was in constant preparedness for war. They knew him only as a fighter because genocide was their only diplomacy. The stereotype is perpetuated in the Civilized Peoples' romanticized recountings of their conquests, fueled by their fixation on violence and cultural chauvinism. This chapter is not about that Warrior. But before we meet and walk with the real Warrior of The People, let us honor him with proper title. Warrior as Guardian warrior: 1. a man engaged or experienced in warfare and especially in primitive warfare or the close combat of ancient or medieval times. 2. a person of demonstrated courage, fortitude, zeal, or pugnacity. -Webster's Third New International Dictionary The term "warrior" is derived from an Old Germanic word, which Civilized usage has corrupted to the point that, at present, it is known primarily by the first definition above. It retains some of its original meaning in the second definition. However, the first definition is so entrenched and all-pervasive that using the term would further perpetuate the stereo-type, and trying to return it to its original definition would, like so many other struggles with the Civilized Way, be energy better spent elsewhere. Instead, we will use "Guardian," a parallel Old French word that by some sparing miracle has not met the same fate as "Warrior." The same dictionary cited above gives its definitions as: one that guards or secures: one to whom a person or thing is committed for protection, security, or preservation. This was also the meaning of the term "Warrior" as it was used in the Old Way. We are meeting the Guardian in our quest to know the men (as well as some women and the man within woman) of the Old Way because he exemplifies the role of maleness in Native cultures. The Guardian tradition is common to virtually all Old Way Peoples. He is a highly defined individual, many of whose characteristics are those of Native males in general. He is also an element of the Native psyche; he dwells in all the People, regardless of age or gender. (For Balance, many Native People purposely cultivate the expression of their less dominant gender.) There are some who feel that there is no place for the Guardian in this Civilized day. In one sense this is true, as the man's lifestyle (more so than the woman's) has been severely disrupted in the transition from the Old to the Civilized Way. No longer are the Hunter and the Guardian viable parts of the family support system, whereas the woman's caretaking roles with children and hearth, albeit changed, still are. Men have trouble maintaining a sense of self-worth in such circumstances, much less functioning as Guardians. In another sense, The Great Mother now calls upon Her Guardians with an urgent battle cry, the likes of which have never before echoed through the realms of Her Creation. The People of Greenpeace and Earth First!, single mothers, Natives who keep the Drum and refuse the spirit-death- all these people, and more, are answering the cry. They embody the Vision of the Guardian and have joined in the struggle to return to Balance. We're all Guardians. Whenever we act on our Mother's or our kin's calling, our Ancestors who were once Guardians walk again on their Vision Path. Whether or not we were called to walk that Path, they give us breath, and we give them life. They are the reason for the survival of our lineage-the reason we are here. The Calling The Path of the Guardian is one that we do not choose, but for which we are chosen. It is a most honorable calling to serve; it is being ordained to take one's place as a caretaker of The Mother and Her children. When the Path is understood and the Old Ways of our Ancestors are reawakened within our Heart-of-Hearts, we will know clearly whether The Great Mother has called us to Her service. The Way of the Guardian takes a level of dedication, commitment, and Vision that an individual can't muster alone. It takes melding with the Greater Life, the Ultimate Wisdom. No one would decide on this Path to further his own ends. From a personal perspective it wouldn't make sense, because it demands so much of the self that it would contradict personal goal fulfillment. But it is the only thing to do, the most fulfilling and rewarding life for one who hears the Cry. It is so clear that if he does not answer it, he lives a life of flatness and despondency. He is out of sync with the rhythm of his Heart-of-Hearts; he cannot get a grasp on that inner Balance that brings blessings to life. The Way of the Guardian is the epitome of a life lived in Balance, because it is the giving of the greatest gift-the gift of self. His Path is rooted strongly in his Hoop of Relations, as it is there that his life of service begins. It is the strength of his Hoop that gives power to his Path. As he leaves his Hoop, he becomes part of a greater organism that is made up of many Hoops. He is a vital web in the net that holds the Hoops together. As a Guardian, he has no life, no purpose, when separated from that organism. He is like a finger, which has function and reason for being only when part of the hand. To a civilian, the Guardian's life may appear to be one of deprivation and Spartan discipline. To the Guardian it is a life of bliss, the only Path there is. It is being immersed in another consciousness, existing in an-other reality.