Joseph McNair

Iba Òsóòsi

Simon was uneasy.  His keen senses were unusually sharp on this night of the new moon. The forest at dusk was preternaturally dark, the moon having turned her face away, making it difficult to find familiar pathways that normally he could find blindfolded. 

As he made his way to the thicket of ironwood, swamp dogwood trees and indigo bushes that opened up on the eastern bank of the stream which ran through the forest behind the village, that staged the ceremonies he had been attending and playing for these nearly sixteen years, he felt more than the usual mixture of fear and wonder which preceded his encounters with guardian spirits. Tonight these feelings were intensate, seeming to leap out of him, trackers scouting ahead, leading him toward…what?

His calloused hands and fingers tingled, anticipating the striking, stroking and caressing his beloved Emele Abo, the medium sized drum that he played at these ceremonies with his brother Peter and his cousin Tom. While Peter was the acknowledged drum prodigy of the three, it was Simon, people said, who made his drum talk.

He could alter the pitch on his drum by gliding -- sliding a finger or a thumb after a strike in such a way as to “glide” from a low pitch to a high or vice versa and muting, covering a section of the drum head when striking that gives a different tone than when uncovered. Simon could replicate word sounds from the old “tongue” and when his Orísha took him, he could through his drum converse with any other Orísha around in the old tongue.

Simon wondered what this night would be like. He had learned to trust his senses and his instincts, but he could not tell if their excited state boded good or ill.  Over the last few years, he rarely saw his brother, cousin or any of the celebrants except on the nights of the new and full moons, when they came together to fellowship and allow the gods to ride them.  For him, each ceremony was like a family reunion.

Like his brother, Peter, he was at home in the forest, but as a hunter rather than one who studies, collects, and prepares plants useful for health and healing. He would steal away deep into the forest after his chores each day.

He would stay in the forest exploring  well into the early evening until summoned back to the house for dinner. Or he would sneak out of his room at night, when he was sure that everyone was asleep, to go and sit in a special place that only he and his brother knew, under the canopy of the heavens, an outcropping of rock that sheltered him and gave him a panoramic view of the nocturnal habits of the forest creatures. 

He could sit so quietly that some of the smaller animals, the rabbits and field mice would come up to him, sniff him, as if trying to determine if he were alive. Soon the rabbits would let him pet them and the mice and the lizards would  crawl up his  arms and legs and sleep in the warm crevices of his body.

On one of these nights a deer, a young buck, came to him while he was sitting within the shelter of the outcropping and stood in front of him staring.  Simon was careful not to move, fearing that he would frighten him away. Simon suddenly felt his senses open up.  He could feel the deer, feel himself in the deer, as if the animal were mirrOríng to him his own thoughts, needs and desires. He could feel the animal’s hunger for compassion; his need to be loved. He could feel the deer’s need to feel secure in his dangerous world

As Simon sat there, he felt the rush of the deer’s spirit as it came toward him and entered into his body. He felt complete oneness with the deer. There was neither fear nor alarm in him. He just felt the spirit of a lonely, scared fellow creature who needed to be safe for a moment. Simon allowed the deer to be there with him, in him, allowed his love to wash over him. In that moment, the deer spoke to Simon’s thoughts and told him his name. He also told Simon his own true name, Oshosi.  Simon was ten years old at the time.

That deer became his teacher and his friend, teaching him the ways of the woods and the laws the animals lived by.  Simon learned from his friend the secret language of animals and how to “hear” them when they spoke. He learned that animals could talk to each other and to some human beings.  Just as he had opened himself to the deer, if he did the same to any animal, he might hear that animal speak. If animals knew that a human honored and respected them, they would send their spirits to communicate and become a constant in his or her life, either in daily encounters or in dreams.

Simon also learned that the spirits of animals came bringing gifts. But it would often test and challenge  first. The deer taught him how to open himself to it at will; how to sit in silence and let the spirit of the animal come to him. To do this, Simon had to give his time, attention and appreciation, as in any relationship that is valued and worthy of being  deepened. In addition, Simon had to mix with the sweet grasses he gave the deer to eat, sage and cedar bark.

After the initial encounter with the deer, it took months for their communication to become fluid and effortless. If Simon did something wrong, if he was distracted or inattentive, if he made sudden or unexpected movements or loud noises, the deer would bound away ending the lesson. He might have to sit silently again for another hour or wait another day for the deer to return and continue teaching him. 

In time, Simon could sit unmoving until his teacher had finished the lesson. Soon after his eleventh birthday, Simon began to “sit” with the other animals in the forest under the deer’s guidance. In this way, Simon came to know all of the animals in the forest and became friends with most. He learned their ways and their laws, including those that governed killing. Their friendship was the gift the animals offered, for Simon had few if any human friends.

He didn’t have the love for people that his brother Peter had, and for understandable reasons.  Despite his broad, stocky build, Simon was almost preternaturally handsome – some even described him as beautiful. His large eyes and glistening white teeth against his silky black-brown blemish-free skin had the effect of drawing attention to himself even at an early age.  He enjoyed this at first, almost preening in the steady stream of eyewash and approbation. Soon, though, he realized that the compliments for his good looks were inversely proportional to the callous rebuke of his brother’s marked deficiency in pigmentation.  Simon was fiercely protective of his brother and even though Peter learned quickly to deflect attention away from his near albinism with pure charm and ingenuity of personality, Simon seethed at the idea that anyone would mistreat his brother.

But there was a darker side to his comeliness, more insidious than the invidious comparisons to his brother.  There were those, when he was small, who seemed too enamored of his good looks; who would touch him in forbidden places, hug him much too long, make him feel really uncomfortable. At first he would hide when these people came around. But on those occasions when he couldn’t escape, he had to endure the  discomfort of the shame and self loathing he was left with after such encounters –until he couldn’t take anymore.

Even before he could put words to these feelings, he could feel the build up of the power racing through his nervous system, pumping his heart, accelerating his breathing.  This power was triggered by the sense of injustice that comes from being injured, violated, victimized.  He could not at the time put words to the sense of insult and humiliation that came when someone (especially an adult “ friend” or relative) held and stroked his genitals or mouthed his ear or squeezed his buttocks.

He could not articulate the sense of violation that comes when one’s bodily and psychological integrity are threatened.  What he could do is lash out with an intensity that frightened would be abusers. 

One “uncle” experienced this when a five year old Simon, sick of his touching him in inappropriate places, turned feral, scratching the man’s face with talon like fingers, drawing blood and attacking his naked neck with bared fangs, just missing his jugular. The man rushed out of the house screaming that the boy was a devil.  When word got around about this “disturbed” child, most of the unwanted attentions stopped.  The cost of this, however, was to be declared strange by everyone except his brother. 

This is, perhaps, one of the principal reasons for his escape into the forest. When he became skilled in the ways of animals, in his early teens, he could channel his rage at injustice into martial skills that made him a ferocious fighter if anyone dared challenge him. Most people steered clear of him, his reputation for ferocity preceding him.

Simon preferred the lack of guile, the simple motivations of the four-legged, the creepers and the crawlers, the winged and the finned.   He had enough of the complexity of human relations. He was sickened by the treachery, duplicity, larceny and perversion. At eighteen, he informed his father that he would not be a farmer; that he would live off the bounty of the forest.

Already a skilled hunter, fisherman and woodsman, he chose, instead, a reclusive life, away from the village, away from people, coming into the village only to visit his family, trade in the market and pick up supplies. He lived in several pieds-a-terre, structures placed strategically around the forest, and having roofs with a single slope or pitch made of animal skins. He more than survived on his hunting, fishing, tracking and woodsman skills.

He was by no means a wanton killer of animals. He respected his animal friends as equals to humans. Of course he hunted them, but only for food, and he first asked permission of the animal's spirit. He would thank the spirit of the animal he had to kill for the provision of food that he might live. He believed the forest was owned in common. His deer spirit had taught him that if he talked to the animals they would talk with him and he would know them. If he did not talk to them he would not know them. What he did not know, he would fear. What one fears, one destroys.

It would be said later that his guardian spirit drove him into the forest, for there lay his destiny. He could track deer as if he were a deer himself, moving so quietly that the animals were never startled by his appearance or presence.  He could swim like the fish in the stream. He would run with wolves and the bears and called the snake his elder brother. He was content to dwell there with his animal friends, large and small, except on the nights of the first and fifth phases of the moon when something much bigger than he called him to his spiritual family.

There was one other thing that would draw him out of the forest.  Simon, a tracker without peer, was called upon occasionally by the village constabulary to help in the pursuit and apprehension criminals.  He even allowed himself to be persuaded to become a member, provided that he could continue to wander the forests hunting and fishing as he pleased and that they would call on him only when all of their efforts failed. He refused to take a fee or reward for his efforts. Knowing that he had apprehended a wrongdoer satisfied his deep and abiding sense of justice.

There wasn’t much major crime in and around the village, but human nature being what it was provided for an occasional burglary of significant proportion, a brigand that preyed on travelers plying the roads from village to village and, very infrequently, a murder.  In the twelve years that Simon had been a hunter/woodsman/constable, he had brought seven thieves and one murderer to justice. 

The murderer, a ne’er-do-well by the name of John, was a one-time apprentice to the village butcher. During his apprenticeship he constantly quarreled with the butcher and in the words of several villagers, "conducted himself in a loose and disorderly manner." When his apprenticeship was over, he tried to open a rival butcher shop, thinking to take away the business of his master. 

The villagers, however, remained loyal to the butcher. His business was so poor that he began to steal sheep, pigs, and cattle from the villagers.  When his various thefts were discovered, he killed the hapless farmer who confronted him about his thievery by smashing his head with a large stone. He then ran into the forest to hide.  He proved quite adept at eluding the local constabulary and for a time would prey on travelers who plied the road between villages from spots where the road ran adjacent to the forest.  A frustrated constable sought out Simon for help, figuring that he knew the forest better than anyone.

Simon, in the forest, had the best gang of temporary law enforcement officers imaginable.Within hours his animal friends had located the murderer, and relayed that information to him.  He set out with his bow, his knives and some rope to capture a criminal.  When he got to the location, he found the terrified thief-turned murderer held at bay by a snarling mountain cat, a wolf and a bear.In no time at all he had the man in custody. He bound the man securely and marched him back to the village. Amazed by this display of prowess, the villagers began to call him the “spirit of the forest,” and a new legend began.

But it was not as the spirit of the forest that he came to meet his friends and celebrants on this night.  He came as Simon the drummer, the owner of the itótele, and the chosen of Oshosi, the hunter and protector.

The copse loomed ahead of him.  He materialized out of the thick bush, following the bank of the stream, like a manifestation from another plane. There were a few of the drummers and initiates milling around.  They greeted him and left him alone to explore and inspect the dancing ground as was his custom. It was clear that Maggie had already been there because, eying the mortar in front of the ironwood tree, the wooden bowl on top of it, the intricate magical symbol traced on the ground with corn flour and the fire blazing  in the center of the dancing ground the sacred place had been prepared.

He was trying to figure out what was different about the night, the dancing ground, the very air.  Everything seemed so charged, so exhilarating. It was almost as if the gods…

Suddenly emerging out the bushes that opened to the pathway to Maggie’s house, came the village healer herself, dressed in her customary white, her son, Shango, who, though plainly dressed in white shirt and dark trousers, seemed as tall and as powerful as she, Ezzie, the brass worker’s wife, whose beauty lit up copse, his brother, Peter, the healer and his cousin Tom, the blacksmith.

Seeing them approach, Simon knew the source of the different ness he felt. It was emanating not from the night, the air or the copse itself but from them.  They seemed more like apparitions than people. They positively glowed.

“What has happened?” He thought. Before he could collect his thoughts, Maggie beckoned to him to join them.

“Behold,” she said in the voice she used when her guardian spirit had taken her head, “the spirit of the forest joins us. You are welcome, Simon.” Her eyes were bright and her smile, radiant. 

Most of the celebrants had arrived by now. All seemed a bit confused by the change in the atmosphere and in the customary order of the ceremony. Sensing this, Maggie held up her hand, quieting the gathering.

“Tonight, my friends, we will do things a little differently. Let the apprentice drummers, Ben, Joseph and Dunie, seat themselves behind the drums.  Let all of the celebrants make a circle around the six of us.  Let everyone sit, save Simon and me, and witness the events that will unfold. Drummers, play the rhythm of the hunter/protector! For it is through the drums that human beings become connected to all of nature and to the supernatural.”

And the drums spoke. Their percussive chanting, the ultimate expression of the Great Mystery as sound. Each a repository of divine power and the vehicle to give it voice.

All did as she asked.  Tom, Ezzie, Peter and Shango looked at each other knowingly, their smiles picking up the light from the fire.  As the three drums began to intone the hunter’s rhythm, Maggie took Simon’s hand and bade him dance the dance she danced. As she danced, she sang:

Spirit who aims with accuracy, join us
Spirit who turns away famine, come!
Uppermost caretaker of the hunter's  tradition
Uncover goodness
Do not shoot us
Spirit who guides us to self mastery,
I beg you,
Come!

Together they moved, while the gathering watched. The lean, muscular hunter with the beautiful face and the tall, white clad village healer whose face, lit by the fire to a coppery fullness, performed their own shapeshifting dance to the drums, to the rhythms that moved the man out of his body so that the god could take full control; to the undulating voice of the woman whose gravelly resonance was a force of its own, a force that drove the two of them, pushing, shaping, shifting, synchronous stepping to the left, to the right, turning, crossing one leg over the other.

And the drums sang out: : O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re

 She sang out again:

I praise the Spirit of the Tracker.
I praise the master of himself.
I praise the owner of the river bank.
I praise the magician of the forest.
Hunter who never misses,
Wise Spirit who offers many blessings,
Owner of the parrot that guides us to overcome fear,
I salute you.

So be it.

Before long, even while matching Maggie step for step in smooth synchronicity, Simon’s head began to loll and droop from side to side. Suddenly, he began to shout as if driving animals,

"Eeh, eeh, eeh", raising his left leg. He drew an arrow from an imaginary quiver and shot it into the sky…

And the drums sang out again: O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re

"Eeh, eeh, eeh” he shouted again.  He looked over at Ezzie, eyeing her salaciously like a hunter looking for game.  He moved toward her as if to make her dance with him but was cut off by Maggie:

“Enough, Spirit of the Tracker!” Maggie’s voice filled the copse with unmistakable command. “We have much to do this night. Look at me! Hear me!” She signaled to the drummers to reduce the volume of their drumming.

Simon shook his head as if waking up, but someone else was looking out of his eyes.  Out of his mouth came the unmistakable voice of Oshosi:

“Eshu, my  brother, why do you call me from my simple pleasure? Oh how sweet it is to wear this human coil; to dance, to fill my nose with such sweet scents and to run and frolic with the beasts.”

The hunter raised Simon’s body to full height and looked down into Maggie’s eyes.

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re

Maggie looked back, speaking as well with her eyes.

 “Owner of the river bank, my beautiful warrior, don’t you notice anything different about me?”

“Yes, yes … “he said as if looking on her for the first time, “I see much that is different. The one that you ride is no longer your steed. She is…you!! How can this be?”

“Shango has returned to us, a harbinger of a new way. You must hear him. Come Shango, let Oshosi learn as we have learned.  Show him the way.

Shango stood up and joined his mother. 

“What is this?” Oshosi stepped back, warily. “What devious game do you play, Eshu? He said angrily.  “I am in no mood for your trickery. This is the sworn enemy of Ogun, my brother and comrade-in-arms, this wife-stealer. He is my enemy as well! This is he who maimed and crippled my friend and brother, Osanyin.  There is nothing that I want from him but vengeance!” He turned on Shango and moved toward his as if he would attack.

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

“Oshosi, hear me!” Maggie/Eshu’s voice thundered and froze the hunter. “Have you forgotten who I am?  I who am first among you, who can do what I want, when I want and how I want -- have you forgotten? Have you forgotten that I am the mediator of fate? I am called “trickster”, not because I fool people and create chaos, but because I can escape the rules that I enforce. I, who am connection and chaos, who personifies the trickiness of exchange, tell you to be still! Have I not taught you that one's perspective can alter one's perception of what is real, and can be easily fooled?:

The healer pushed her face close to the hunter’s, refusing to release his eyes.

The drums whispered: O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

“You think you know so much! Was it not this same arrogance, this need for vengeance that caused you to commit your shameful crime? Or do you choose not to remember:

One day before he was an Orísha, Oshosi the hunter was walking along a forest path. Orunmila  the Orísha that predicts the future, who is in charge of destiny and is the invisible presence at every birth; who is the intermediary between humans and Olodumare, appeared before him

"Oshosi, hear me." said Orunmila.

"I am yours to command." said Oshosi, bowing low.

"Please stand up," said Orunmila. "I am here to ask for your help."

"It is not for me to help one such as you." said Oshosi. "but, I will do what I can."

"I have heard of your skills as a hunter. Olodumare, the Great Mystery desires one of the fat delicious quail found in this area. I promised I would get him one, but I have been unable to catch one.”

"Why, that would be no trouble at all," said Oshosi.

"If you get one of those quail for me, Not only will bless you but you will have Olodumare's blessing for the rest of your life," said Orunmila.

"If you meet me at my house tomorrow," said Oshosi. "I will have a quail for you."

Orunmila disappeared. Oshosi grabbed his bow and his traps and immediately set about hunting quail. Before long, he had a beautiful quail hen struggling inside his sack. As he made his way back home, he imagined what the blessings of the Master of Prophesy and the Great Mystery would bring.

When he got home, he put the quail hen in a little cage and went back into the woods to hunt some more. He went deep into the forest and, as was his custom, spent the night there under a favorite tree.

The next morning, he ran home to meet Orunmila who was waiting impatiently outside of his house when he arrived.

"Good morning, Oshosi. Were you able to catch a quail for me?" Orunmila asked him.

“O witness of creation, I caught the grandest quail in all the forest," said Oshosi.

He went in the house. He was there for some time. Finally he came out, ashen faced, with an empty cage.

"Where is the bird?" asked Orunmila.

"I don't understand it," said Oshosi. "I left it in this cage yesterday afternoon, and now, it is gone."

"Don’t play with me, hunter? I can as easily curse you as bless you!" Orunmila was becoming angry.

“ I would not dare deceive you, Owner of destiny" said Oshosi. "Mother?  Mother, come out here this instant!"

The tiny woman hurried out of the house, drying her wrinkled hands. She bowed to Orunmila and anxiously looked from her exasperated son to the angry Orísha..

"Yes, my son, what is it? What has disturbed you so?"

"Mother, where is the quail I left in this cage yesterday afternoon? It was a present for Orunmila and Olodumare!"

"I don’t know ,my dear," she said. "I don't know anything about this."

This was not exactly the truth. She had seen the lovely quail in its cage the day before, and she had been pleased that her wonderfully thoughtful son had made her a present of the plump, tasty bird to eat. She had killed it, plucked it, and eaten it, but, now, knowing who the bird was really, she was terrified of admitting the truth to Orunmila.

Thinking to quickly rectify the situation, Oshosi said:

"Do not worry, Orunmila. I will go out right now and I will have another beautiful bird for you by this very afternoon. After I am done, I will deal with the thief.

In less than an hour, Oshosi had snared another beautiful quail hen. He returned to his house with the struggling bird inside his sack. Orunmila, as before, was waiting for him.

"I have brought you another beautiful quail, which I believe will taste even better than the last one I caught," said Oshosi, proudly taking the fluttering quail out of the sack .

"You are too kind, hunter." said Orunmila “Come let me take you directly to Olodumare. Only I know precisely where he lives. You can present him with this quail yourself. It s meet that you should do so when it was your skill that made this wonderful gift possible."

They went to Olodumare's house. The Great Mystery was delighted with the quail.

"You have made my heart exceedingly glad on this day that I have made." said Olodumare.

"It is my pleasure to honor you, Owner of Heaven," responded Oshosi.

"I thank you too, Orunmila, for having had the wisdom to solicit the skills of this great hunter," said Olodumare. "I have decided to make you, Oshosi, an Orísha and a king among hunters."

Oshosi was almost speechless with astonishment.

“You honor me too much, Great One.”

Although much praise and treasures were heaped on Oshosi, he kept a humble attitude before Olodumare. But in spite of the honors and felicitations, he was secretly troubled. There burned in him an anger that could not be quenched.

 When all the ceremonies were over, Oshosi approached Olodumare.

"O father of creation, would you think me ungrateful if asked but one more boon of you?".

"And what might that be?" asked Olodumare.

“There is a thief about, one who stole my first offering to you. I will not be able to sleep knowing that the wrong that has been committed." said Oshosi. “Please, Great Father, allow me my vengeance. Let me release my arrow into the air knowing that you will guide it to the thief's heart."

"I cannot deny you what you wish," said Olodumare sadly. "But you will regret deeply asking for such a boon."

Undeterred, Oshosi shot his arrow into the air and, guided by Olodumare's will, it went straight into his mother's breast. He watched with horror, through the all seeing eyes of Orunmila, his mother die by his own hand…

A chastened Oshosi said quietly, “Why do you dig up old terrible memories, Eshu.  Why do you stir up old hurts.  Everyone knows my shame.”

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

Maggie/Eshu was relentless. “Yes we do. But was it not you, hunter, just a moment ago who clamored for vengeance rather than offering forgiveness? You who know better than any of us the terrible cost vengeance exacts?  This has been our folly, to replay in perpetuity the base behavior, the absurd and ruinous undertakings that we would condemn if our human charges did the same. 

Maggie/Eshu paused. The drums punctuated the void left by her voice.

“Tell him, Shango. Tell him why you have come as you have come!”

The boy, who had been looking on quietly, while the healer spoke,

“Look on me, Oshosi!” The boy demanded. “Look at my fires. See me!”

The hunter looked into the boy, looked upon the multicolored flames of his spirit. He could see the identical attributes – Orísha and human blended as one entity, something more than either Orísha or human.

“Now,” the boy continued, “look on the rest of us!” One by one they came before the hunter – Ezzie, Peter, Tom the blacksmith.  Oshosi saw the phenomena of spiritual symmetry and at-one-ness repeated in each of the three. He experienced a moment of abandonment; of being left behind.

“Simon the hunter, come forth!” Shango’s voice had the power of a summoning.

In that place where Simon’s ego went to when his guardian spirit took his head, there was a stirring, a rippling of consciousness, an awakening. Like a child rousing from a deep sleep, Simon’s consciousness stretched. He heard the voice of the boy call him. He felt someone in his skin with him. When he opened his eyes, his vision was doubled as if his eyes were seeing different images. He checked his memories and found remembrances that couldn’t possibly be his own. A fear came upon him and he began to tremble.

“Help him Oshosi!” Shango commanded. “Only you can bring the two of you together!”

The Orísha sent his spirit forth, tentatively and instead of overpowering Simon’s strands of consciousness where he found them, he coaxed them out, caressed and embraced them, held them like a lover. The affinity that had been created from the first time Simon was “crowned,” facilitated the blending.

Pieces of Simon’s consciousness dissolved and disassociated rapidly in Oshosi’s awareness, charging homogenous elements there. The concentrations of these elements soon became large enough that the reverse reaction began, disrupting the psychic structure of human and Orísha alike. The awareness and identity of the Orísha became saturated with the awareness and the identity of Simon; the Orísha and the human became one.

“What has happened to me?” A bewildered Simon/Oshosi exclaimed after a time. He was like one awaking from a disturbing dream, looking around, trying to get his bearings.

“A most wondrous thing, Spirit of the tracker.” Maggie/Eshu said moving to embrace the hunter.

 “You are more than what you were. You have stepped on the path to unity with the great mystery, as have the rest of us, led by Shango, my son.” This last, she added with more than a hint of pride.

“You are no longer a mere matrix of power, an aspect of Olodumare, but joined with Simon’s humanity, you can seek to become whole again, one with the great mystery as you are now one with Simon.

Into this perfectly constructed universe, we, the Orísha, were placed, pure, potent, energies, each expressing a specific focus and potential experience. We were given the opportunity to work with the other energies to fulfill our chosen destinies.  Our congess with humans caused us to take on human characteristics, caused us to forget our divine Origins, caused us to think that we were gods but to act like the basest of humans. We fell and lost our way.

Shango, though, has shown us that if we seek out that which is pure in our human hosts –the divine spark that drives them to oneness—we can join with them, become one with them and be carried along to wholeness. We who were once their guardians must now be led by them back to the Great Mystery.”

Maggie/Eshu paused. Gripping the hunter by his shoulders, she pulled him to her in a fierce embrace.

“As the oldest among us, the one who is said to control all roads and paths, and the one who said to do as she pleases, let me be the first to embrace you. In another time we lived together as brothers, walked together as warriors. Your power is essential to our new undertaking for it is that which finds those pathways of inspiration that lead to spiritual evolution.” She bade the others, Ezzie, Peter, Tom and Shango to do the same.

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

“Let us all embrace our brother who has become one with himself and truly one of us!”

Each of the four hugged the hunter, whispering an intimacy to him.

You are welcome, beautiful one,” whispered Ezzie. She gave him a lusty hug and stroked his cheek as she insinuated herself deep into his eyes. “You always seek me out to dance, and I married you once even though I can belong to no one man” she smiled, her teeth glistening like bright stars, “but I know you embody those forces which guide good character. I know your aim is true and you will help us find the shortest path to our destiny.”

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

Peter hugged Simon like a devoted brother.  “You have given me your love and protection in this life like no other.” He whispered.  “And in another time, I chose you to be my companion, stealing your memory that you might dwell with me forever in the forest. But as I look on you, I see that you re much more than the left handed sorcerer that you became, the one who influences without being seen, my equal in the ways of magic, the one who knows which poisons to use to fell all manner of prey.  You are our defender and provider of spiritual sustenance. You are our method of ascension. Our goals are reached due to your aim and guidance. I greet you, my brother. You are welcome.”

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

Tom embraced Simon like a wrestler. “We are brothers, even though in this life we are cousins. We have always lived together or close to each other, eaten each other’s food, and joined each other in battle. As hunters, we long ago vowed that one of us was as nothing without the other. You in one eye see the path before us; in the other eye, see all paths from above. I clear the path of obstructions, I open the road to that which is desired.  Yours is the power to cut through those rigid ideas that limit our perception of who we are. We need your clarity of vision, my brother. You are welcome.

O/sho/si/  I/ba/ o/log/ a/ra/re.

When Shango stepped forward to embrace Simon/Oshosi, the hunter said:

“Will you embrace me, too, dispenser of justice? Long have I hated you.  Such powerful feelings are difficult to change. “He looked uncertainly at the boy.

“You have much to be aggrieved about on my account, Oshosi.”  Shango faced the hunter squarely.  As he looked up into the face of the hunter, anyone looking upon that scene would be struck by the discrepancy of their respective statures, the contrast between the handsome and powerful hunter and the seemingly nondescript adolescent boy. The same made his next statements seem somewhat ironic.

“I have wronged you and your brother over the same woman. I have maimed and injured your friend. I have belittled your wisdom and power openly. I have dishonored you. Even if killing me would bring you satisfaction, I cannot afford you that because neither of us can die. What would you have me do to amend the harm I have caused you?”

Simon/Oshosi appeared thunderstruck. The soft sincere words of the young boy hit him like a physical blow. Was something wrong with his hearing? Had his nemesis just confessed his crimes and offered to make amends? The scabrous crust discharged from and covering his wounded heart broke open and the viscous, yellowish-white fluid, the animus, the bitter hostility and active hatred drained from him; the scales fell from his eyes. He looked on the boy with wonder.

“You have done enough, Shango, more than enough.” The hunter said finally.  Looking  skyward, he spoke as one given to prophesy.

“Your humility has strengthened my vision. You embody the new rules to guide us to wholeness. I have seen the new way, the new path and we are all needed. I have seen our interconnectedness; the effects of all of our actions. I have seen our goal. I will gladly follow you to Olodumare.”

The two embraced.

“It is well” Maggie/Eshu said. “Now, let each of us who are awakened, awake the others..” and almost as if there were a secret signal, Eshu’s rhythm filled the night.

The drums sang: Eshu/lan/lu/giri/oko

And the six moved about the celebrants, calling forth the owners of their heads, calling back the human hosts, showing the Orísha how to become as one with the host. New composite personalities came forth. And there was healing.

Emma, Shango’s natural sister and primary care-giver, who witnessed his birth, found her beingness infused with Aja, patroness of the forest, the forest animals and healers, and herself healed from the trauma of watching her mother die giving birth to her brother.

Lela, Shango’s former wet nurse, though an early associate of Maggie/eshu was one of the last to be crowned. Her natural love of children, especially newborns drew the guardian spirit Ida, Orísha of the newborn babes and anything produced or brought forth by natural processes. The blending with this Orísha infused her spirit with new nurturing purpose.

Mava, the embittered, incest-surviving domestic, found self-forgiveness in the integral multiples of the frequency of Yemoja, mother of all, Queen of Witches, Spirit of the Ocean and all salt waters who gave birth to all things; who comforts and soothes those on the path to enlightenment and calms the stormy waters of emotions.

Aida, child of Oshumare, the serpent who is the rainbow, a cosmic protector, giver of blessings and one who brings messages from the Great mystery threw off her encumbering shyness with the Orísha’s power.

Dawn became one with Obatala-Iya and reveled in her newfound power and purity.        

Sarah, who became blended with Oba, the Orísha of the home and marriage, experienced powerful yearnings for a good man and a home of her own to keep.

Yansa, whose blended self was, Oya. the Orísha of the winds radiated the strength, assertiveness, courage and independence her former guardian.

Marissa and Marassa,embodied and attenuated on their personalities the ibeyi, the divine twins, the elemental, inseparable and polarized forces of the universe. They radiated the mystery of duality: unity, harmony, balance.

And the forbidding inward looking Awey scintillated with the essence of Yewa, the virgin Orísha of Death.

Ben, Joseph , and Dunie, the apprentice drummers had recently been taken by  Olokun, Oko and Oke.

Ben/Olokun, a fisherman, whose anger was that of the raging sea, found the serenity of deep still waters when he became one with Olokun.

Joseph/Oko, a farmer, blended well with the Orísha of farming and fertility, brought restraint and temperance to his promiscuous personality.

Dunie/Oke, who dwelled above the village in the arboreal hills, became one with the Orísha of hills and mountains benefited  immediately from the confidence wisdom that comes from permanence.

Before the night was over, eighteen were numbered among the awakened. They embraced each other, exchanged reminiscences from their past lives together, and glOríed in their interconnectedness and unity.

Maggie/Eshu bade the all to sit around the dying embers of the fire.

“How good it is to dwell together in unity. However, this unity is but the beginning. All of you here, the awakened ones, know me. You know I guard the thresholds of the many doors and roads through life, the vibrant sunlit journeys of opportunity or the dark dismal trails of privation and hardship. These journeys are life’s lessons and are embarked upon by choice. You know that I carry messages -- from humans to the ears of the  Orísha and to Great Mystery and back again. Tonight I bring you all a new message, from the Great mystery, through the Orísha of fire, thunder and lightning. Listen to this small boy, for he speaks with the authority of Olodumare. I have seen this and know that it is so!”

The copse was silent when Maggie/Eshu finished. She nodded to Shango, who stood up and faced the eighteen. He was clearly the youngest of all who were gathered and his youthfulness and stature contrasted dramatically with the power and authority that saturated his voice.  His voice rang out through the copse, through the forest and it was not the voice of a child:

“In the beginning,” he said offering no preamble, “the great Mystery was all there was. To experience its unity and  wholeness, the Great Mystery created the Great illusion, the veil of forgetfulness that cause some of what it was to believe it was separate from the Great Mystery, becoming what it is not. Humans, Oríshas and all creations in possession of consciousness became inebriated with this illusion.  Human beings came to believe they were separate from Olodumare.

Everything in nature has Orí or consciousness. This is obvious to those who have awakened because this consciousness is Olodumare. The great illusion caused us all to believe that the visible world is influenced by invisible worlds that co-exist in the same dimensional space as the physical world. There is no visible and invisible world. It is all Olodumare.

The Oríshas came to believe that they were only aspects of his power. Mineral spirits, spirits of plants and animals, spirits of the elements all sleepwalk in the unreality of their uniqueness and separation..” Shango paused as if thinking how he should continue.  He began again.

“Of us all, it is only a few among the humans who have glimpsed the truth, that we are in truth all one, there is no separation from Olodumare. These few through their willfulness, single-mindedness and persistence discovered in the silence that follows all such exertions that there is no lack, or failure or insufficiency in ultimate reality and therefore no evil. There are no requirements or judgments, condemnations or conditionalities and thus no eternal punishments and damnation. There are none who are superior nor are there any without full knowledge, if they would only awaken and remember.

The Orísha, that part of Olodumare who in the great illusion believed they were pure energies of awareness, matrices of power, higher harmonics of humans, found the human vibration an intoxicant, a sleep drug where they could forget who they were and play at being gods and goddesses who would act out the basest of human behaviors.  They, in that illusion, became so dependent on their human hosts that they forgot even their aspects of energy and power.

They became embroiled in rivalries, deceptions and contests for power among themselves. The more they did so the more separate they became. They forgot that they were not separate from humans, but a different frequency of the same fundamental vibration. They forgot that they were an essential part of the human’s inner self that needed only to be awakened and when awakened, human and Orísha alike could touch universal forces.

By blending our energies and identities, humans and Oríshas can erase at least one false layer of separateness. We can experience our oneness and consolidate our powers to press on, to be about the great work, to remember that Olodumare is all there is and we are that…

He talked until the first light of day, sitting in the midst of the celebrants, teaching them, hearing them, asking and answering questions.  The celebrants whispered among themselves, marveling at his wisdom. They knew when they heard him that this was no small boy. The truths he spoke were so new and yet seemingly, so self-evident. He told them that their work had just begun; that all gathered on the dancing grounds would have a role to play in spreading this new message, in clearing this new path. When they left the dancing grounds at dawn, each had much to think about.