The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision Read Free Page A

our people to search for what he called a
     state of purification. The shaman taught them to leave from this very spot, bearing only a knife, and to walk until the animals
     provided a sign, and then to follow until they reached, what they called the sacred opening into the upper world. If they
     were worthy, if they had cleared the lower emotions, he told them, they might even be allowed to enter the opening, and to
     meet directly with the ancestors, where they could remember not just their own vision but the vision of the whole world.
    “Of course, all that ended when the white man came. Mygrandfather couldn’t remember how to do it, and neither can I. We’re having to figure it out, like everyone else.”
    “You’re here looking for the Tenth, aren’t you?” I asked.
    “Of course… of course! But all I seem to be doing is this penance of forgiveness.” His voice became sharp again, and he suddenly
     seemed to be talking more to himself than to me. “Every time I try to move forward, a part of me can’t get past the resentment,
     the rage, at what happened to my people. And it’s not getting any better. How could it happen that our land was stolen, our
     way of life overrun, destroyed? Why would that be allowed?”
    “I wish it hadn’t happened,” I said.
    He looked at the ground and chuckled lowly again. “I believe that. But still, there is a rage that comes when I think of this
     valley being misused.
    “You see this scar,” he added, pointing to his face. “I could have avoided the fight where this happened. Texas cowboys with
     too much to drink. I could have walked away but for this anger burning within me.”
    “Isn’t most of this valley now protected in the National Forest?” I asked.
    “Only about half of it, north of the stream, but the politicians always threaten to sell it or allow development.”
    “What about the other half? Who owns that?”
    “For a long time, this area was owned mostly by individuals, but now there’s a foreign-registered corporation trying to buy
     it up. We don’t know who is behind it, but some of the owners have been offered huge amounts to sell.”
    He looked away momentarily, then said, “My problem is that I want the past three centuries to have happened differently. I
     resent the fact that Europeans began to settle on this continentwith no regard for the people who were already here. It was criminal. I want it to have happened differently, as though I
     could somehow change the past. Our way of life was important. We were learning the value of
remembering.
This was the great message the Europeans could have received from my people if they had stopped to listen.”
    As he talked, my mind drifted into another daydream. Two people—another Native American and the same white woman— were talking
     on the banks of a small stream. Behind them was a thick forest. After a while, other Native Americans crowded around to hear
     their conversation.
    “We can heal this!” the woman was saying.
    “I’m afraid we don’t know enough yet,” the Native American replied, his face expressing great regard for the woman. “Most
     of the other chiefs have already left.”
    “Why not? Think of the discussions we’ve had. You yourself said if there was enough faith, we could heal this.”
    “Yes,” he replied. “But faith is a certainty that comes from knowing how things should be. The ancestors know, but not enough
     of us here have reached that knowing.”
    “But maybe we can reach this knowledge now,” the woman pleaded. “We have to try!”
    My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of several young Forest Service officers, who were approaching an older man on the
     bridge. He had neatly cut gray hair and wore dress slacks and a starched shirt. As he moved, he seemed to limp slightly.
    “Do you see the man with the officers?” David asked.
    “Yeah,” I replied. “What about him?”
    “I’ve seen him around here for the past two weeks. His first