A Native American Folktale told to me by my grandfather
Once, long ago, a Shaman was practicing in his village. He was known across the lands as someone who could heal any ailment, any disease, any heartache.
The Shaman heard of a plague tearing through a nearby village, and he set off at once. While the village wasn’t too far from the Shaman’s home, the two villages were separated by a canyon with a rushing river surging through. A bridge had been constructed many years ago, but it was still far off from the Shaman.
While the Shaman was on his way to the bridge, he noticed someone standing off in the distance, near the edge of the canyon.
“Sir! Can I help you?” The Shaman yelled at he got closer to this stranger.
“Please!” He cried, grabbing the end of a rope, “Hold onto this for me!” The Shaman was bewildered. A stranger with a rope tied around his waist was asking him to hold the end?
After hesitating a moment, the Shaman took hold of the rope. No sooner than he had taken it, the stranger jumped off the edge of the canyon, nearly taking the Shaman with him.
“Do not let go! I will die if you let go!” The stranger yelled.
“If you do not wish to die, then why did you jump?” The Shaman asked.
“If I fall, I will die, and if I die it will be your fault!” The stranger’s words stung the Shaman. It technically was his job to help people, and to keep them alive… The stranger was right.
Hours passed with the stranger dangling above the river, and the Shaman begging for the reason he jumped. He pleaded with the stranger to let him help get him up but the stranger just kept saying that if he let go he would die and it would be the Shaman’s fault.
The Shaman couldn’t stand it anymore. He had a village to get to, countless others who needed him. He couldn’t give all his time to a man who didn’t want to be helped. After a tense minute of silence, the Shaman let go of the rope. He ran to the bridge, not waiting to hear the cries of the man or the splash as the river swept him to his watery fate.
Had the Shaman waited any longer, he wouldn’t have made it to a village with any living people. He would have arrived to more death. While working to help the villagers defeat this plague, the weight of the strange man at the canyon slowly left his shoulders.
Shamen are able to help anyone, but they can only help those who truly want to be helped.
Kenna's Bookshelf 