Tag: The Shaman

This is the last of the “Childhood” section of Shaman Story. The next section, Adolescence, tracks Gio through elementary school to college. But that’s for later. Now, “DeathSong”.

Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Council of All Beings.

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“You promised.”

“Gio.”

“You said you’d never leave me.”

“Gio.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Gio.”

I turn my back. I won’t face him. I won’t I won’t I won’t.

I feel his arms encircle me, hear his voice inside me. “Do you feel me, Gio?”

I don’t answer.

“Gio.”

“No, I don’t feel you. Alright?”

He withdraws. The energy that cradled me, rescued me, taught me, pulls back.

I spin, reach out, fall into his arms. “No, Buppa. No. Don’t go, Buppa. Don’t die. I need you. I don’t want to go home.”

He holds me against him. I feel his heart, not strong. His arms are weak. Still he holds me. I hear his breath, smell his clove aftershave. He rubs his beard stubble against my forehead, he sings an old Sicilian song.

Inside I hear. “Am I with you now, Gio?”

“Yes, Buppa. Yes.”

“As long as you keep me there, I’ll never leave you. Do you understand, Gio?”

I don’t want to understand. I don’t want to know.

“I’ve done all I can here, Gio. I’ve learned all I can learn. Is it right for me to stay here when The Universe needs me somewhere else?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. His chest rattles. “Gio.”

“No.”

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Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Mr. Zelli’s Ice Cream.

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Voices dance over me like ants at a harvest. I shake with the deep bellow of whale song, the answering trumpet of elephant, am tickled with the chirping of crickets the size of busses. A spider wraps me in her web, places me on her back. Her chalice’s grate “Ha-angg—on-n,” and she balloons up into the sky.

“Where are we going, Grandmother?”

Her chalice’s grate again. “Coun-n-c-cil-l—o-of-f—A-a-ll—Be-ei-ingg-s-s. Yy-you-ur-r—Ggrannd-d-ffa-a-ath-ther-r—i-s-s—wai-ai-ait-t-inn-g-g.”

We descend through clouds, through fog, through mist, through water, through waves, through oceans into the earth, through boiling rock and land on an island deep in the sky.

“Buppa!”

He lifts me in his arms. “Are you ready, Gio? Are you ready to meet your friends?”

The island grows and grows and more and more arrive. John and Running Water and Apara and Chan and Joe Swota and Erdös and Lan and Han and Timbe and Rose and Bee and Spider and Moose and Hummingbird and Hawk and I recognize them even when they don’t look like I’ve seen them before.

“You’re passing!”

“Do you see me who I am, Gio? Do you see me who I am?” It’s a game to them, too!

My friends teach me to play their games and ask me to teach them mine.

Then a voice I’ve not heard before. A voice of fire, like a mountain. A throat clearing that sounds like trees falling in a forest. “Hello, Gio.”

“Hello.”

A wall of sky offers me its hand. I hold stars and planets and galaxies in mine, not even knowing what they are.

“Who are you?”

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Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Healing.

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Grandma, Buppa and I walk to Mr. Zelli’s ice cream shop, up two streets on the corner. Buppa likes the ice cream there. It’s special, called gelato. Mr. Zelli has ice cream for his L’Inglese and gelato for us. Buppa says it’s the best.

Buppa makes it a game. “What flavor is it, Gio?”

I answer quickly. That’s too easy.

“Which of Mr. Zelli’s helpers made this? Was it Antonio? Maybe Francesca? Or Anne? Who was it?”

I have to travel back through the flavor to feel the hands on the machine then go up the arms to feel the face. “Anne made this one.”

“Go ask Mr. Zelli. What does he say?”

Mr. Zelli watches Buppa and me play. I say “Anne?” and he looks at Buppa then back at me.

“You asking me or telling me, Gio?”

“Anne.”

He laughs and nods.

He asks what’s my favorite flavor and sometimes I say “Paolo” or “Cozmo” because I feel the maker in the flavor.

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