Here is one more story that I heard from Mario Blackwolf, a good friend of mine. I tried my best to preserve the original storytelling style. Before I begin, I would like to clarify what a shaman is: he is the spiritual leader of a tribe, who has the ability to heal not only bodies, but also the souls of his people; he is the guardian of traditions and spiritual heritage, as well as a guide into the realm of the spirits.

About the fly and the meaning of life

Many years ago, my life came a black stripe, my spirit was in turmoil, I was looking for meaning in life and could not find it anywhere, even in a bottle of whiskey. I went for advice to the shaman of the tribe, which lived in the mountains nearby.

Our village elder told me that I should leave the car at the foot of the hill and walk on the path up, and always barefoot.

— More you have to bring him tobacco and food offerings — an elder told me.

— But why do I have to go barefoot?

— In order to confirm the sincerity of his desire to find the truth and strengthen it through the pain and suffering — he said, showing me the path to the mountain — and even to prove their courage.

I put the food and tobacco in the backpack, and began his climb up, the rocky and covered with thorny road of sorrow.

It was a long and arduous journey, I clambered over the rocks, climb over huge boulders, sometimes thorny path was lost in the bush. By the end of lifting I was all scratched, and my legs were covered with bruises and calluses. At the top, I saw an old shack, stone hearth beside her and shaman sitting in front of this «castle forest hermit.» His name is Nathan, I was told in the village. When I got closer, I noticed an old man. He invited me to the fire, offered a drink and sat next to him on an old, torn and shabby chair, which he probably found in the city dump.

fly1

— What’s your question? — He asked me before I could say anything.

— Why do you think that I have come to you with questions? — I replied.

— No one goes up the slope of the mountain to just bring me food and tobacco. Usually people come to the question, — he said.

— So what have you got a question? — He asked again.

— I want to know what is the meaning of my life — I said, and took a long drink of water. Suddenly the old man instantly threw hand vverrh and caught on the fly huge gadfly, which curled over us and has already managed to annoy me the order.

— See that fly? — He asked me.

— Yes I Am.

— If she break the wings … — and he tore her wings — it will no longer fly.

I thought he was in a strange behaved, but still nodded his head in response. He gently turned the fly on the back.

— And if you break her legs … — and he pulled her legs — it will no longer walk.

I thought that maybe the old man is not all right, but I nodded again. After that, he put what was left of the flies in the center of the palm, and slapped her other hand.

— And now, when I did it — he laughed — flies no longer exists!

But this time I could not resist:

— Why are you torturing the poor creature, and how it relates to the meaning of my life?

fly2

He looked at me and smiled.

— Absolutely no! Just this damn fly was bugging me all day! — He began to rummage in my backpack.

— Next time, if you want to come here, why do not you use the Causeway, which the house — it leads from the foot of the mountain straight to me.

Then he took the food and tobacco, and went into the shack. But before he disappeared inside, he turned to me and said:

— By the way, do not listen to those Indians from the village at the foot of the mountain. They have an odd sense of humor.

Katya Belykh


Ursa Travel Corp.

2449 Bryunswick Rd Wallkill, NY 12589 USA

E-mail: katya888belykh@gmail.com

Skype: katya.belykh

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