Free For Joshua by Richard Wagamese

each other respectfully and kindly. They offered blessings back to the land. They walked gently upon the face of Mother Earth. On the fourth day, when Eagle followed them to a wigwam half a day away and saw them share their food, hides, and herbs with another family, he was filled with a tremendous joy. He raced back to the mountains to tell his brothers and sisters. There was rejoicing amongst the Animal People for the righteous family Eagle had found.
    They came out of hiding. They were still willing to be the teachers Man needed in order to find his purpose on the Earth, but they were cautious. Man’s readiness to take control had worried them. They had learned the truth—that knowledge and gifts too easily gained were also too easilysquandered or ignored. So, just as they had once helped the Creator hide the wonderful gift of Truth and Life so that it would be a search, they would make the teachings they carried a search as well. Learning had to involve sacrifice. That is why, to this day, the Animal People venture very cautiously into the world of Man. They still come, and they always will, but it takes a careful eye to spot them, an open heart to hear the message in their call, and a spirit ready to learn the teachings they carry.

II
HUMILITY
    Beedahbun
. In Ojibway it means “first light.” It refers to that moment when the edge of the visible sky becomes tinted a hard electric blue. A blue that has never been adequately represented in art or even in words, but one that anyone who has been awake at the birth of a day remembers forever. It’s a blue that sears the purple darkness, burns it off and claims the sky as its own. It’s a trumpet-call blue, a fanfare for the arrival of Grandfather Sun. I woke in time to see it and as I stood there shivering I felt a strange calm come over me. I didn’t move. I merely stood there, locked in place, watching the coming of the light. I realized that there are colours that go far beyond the spectrum oflight. Tones and tints and hues that come alive in the sky for fractions of seconds before stretching themselves thinly, elastically into another subtle, spectacular display. I saw the richest palette and as the sun began to have its way with the sky I gave thanks for the clarity that allowed me to see it.
    I was cold—teeth-chattering cold—but when I began to pace around the perimeter of my circle, stamping my feet for warmth, I could see the world in all directions slowly shrugging itself into wakefulness. With the coming of the light, shadows that had been labyrinthine dungeons throughout the night skittered playfully away to the chirping of birds and the cajoling natter of chipmunks from their burrows and nests.
    There had been other mornings when I had awakened in the outdoors, shivering a lot worse than I was at this moment. Mornings when I had come to wherever I’d fallen or passed out the night before—wet, cold, quaking from hangover and despair, the morning terror that drinkers endure until a splash of alcohol can chase it off. There are colours that exist in that kind of awakening, too, that have never been captured. Only they are the colours of nightmare transferred to wakefulness—sharp, cutting colours that slither and slide, creating their own unnamed perils in the shadows, which seethe with indescribablemonsters and horrors. The difference between that kind of waking cold and how I felt on this morning was the difference between darkness and light. I was thankful to wake to a welcoming world.
    The sun rose. The animals and birds began their days and I walked the perimeter of my circle, watching everything and feeling less alone. After an hour or so my body warmed and I sat to enjoy the breakfast of water I’d rationed out. Never had anything tasted as clean as that first sip. I made a tobacco pouch in thankfulness for water and sat there throughout the morning, working hard at keeping my mind focused on simply watching the world.
    It was hard. I’d