Wolves

Why this crazy fascination with wolves? Growing up in Brooklyn and living in cities most of my life, it’s not like I’ve had even the most distant contact with them. But I love them.  Last month I even ordered two sets of wolf stickers on Amazon and found myself affixing them to all my electronics and baggage. Occasionally I would give a sticker away to someone I deemed worthy, and I enjoyed their look of confusion as they tried to decide if this was a sign of slight unhingement.

I used to imagine that one day I would live in the countryside with orphaned wolves that I had tamed so that they never had to live in an enclosure and they would never run away. Since then, I have realized that I hate living in the countryside and that it was doubtful I had what it takes to raise wild creatures and feed them raw meat in sub-zero temperatures. So wolves became my “spirit animal”. But that’s the thing about a spirit animal. I could be aligned with wolves in spirit, without ever having to travel long distances in a pack, under a frigid moon.

It was during my divorce, that a friend of mine, who had recently had a couple of workshops in animal shamanism, suggested that she go on a sort of animal shaman journey for me.

“So how exactly does this work?” I asked. I was open to anything at this point. I pictured my wolf spirit acting as a kind of guide for me in my distress. At the time, I felt that the civilized world had let me down enormously.

“I will go into a kind of trance and make contact with the animal spirit most aligned with you and your nature. It will likely have a message for you,” said my friend. We were both sitting in our small teacher’s office at the school where we worked. I was impressed that she could shut out whatever was beyond the door by just closing her eyes and slightly tilting her head.  I was also surprised by how short a time she needed to enter into another realm and return.

“Did you make contact already? Did you see my wolf spirit? “I asked.

“Wolf? No, it wasn’t a wolf.”

“What? It wasn’t a wolf? What was it then?” I asked.

“ Chipmunk.”

“Are you kidding me? A chipmunk? Not a wolf? A fucking chipmunk?”

“This is the animal that came to me. It has a message that must be relevant for you right now. Don’t be so surprised.”

I was more disgusted than surprised. At a time in my life when I felt that the universe was coming up short in what it was offering me, this felt like an unnecessary slight. I knew my friend had only the best of intentions. I didn’t really blame here. For all I knew, it might require a third workshop to achieve contact with mammals that weighed more than five ounces. I composed myself.

“So what did this… chipmunk… have to say?” I asked.

“It was more a matter of what it was doing,” she said calmly. “It was running around hiding nuts and seeds for the winter. But it was very self-assured and methodical about it. It was trying to tell you not to worry about your future. It will be OK.”

“So enough nuts and seeds?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

I would have preferred getting a message of dominion over the natural world in the form of a gray wolf with thick fur, howling at the moon. But I was given a chipmunk. I guess one must always accept things in the spirit in which they were given.