(Written 1990--please see note!)

THIS , A VISION SHARED, A GIFT ACROSS FROM MY CLOSE FRIEND AND HIGH PRIEST...A NAMING, AND A TEACHING, IMAGES IN THE WORDLESS VOICE OF THE HUNTER...

The man sought a name. He had a name, of course; his parents had gifted him with it at birth. But he had done nothing to earn it, save entering this life as their child, and it was not the name for him now, as a man. The night of his rebirth approached, and he desired to rename himself, to lock into a single word all his study, his work, his practice...all his struggles, the battles, the love, the wonderful joy he had conquered himself and healed himself to achieve. All of this, made manifest in a name, would make this adult-name a word of power for the man, and an intimate gift for those with whom he desired intimacy.

And so, the man considered. He examined himself, seeking his name among the bits and pieces of his soul, among his triumphs and his goals, his strengths and his failings, but it was not there. And then he sought his name in books, poring over lists and descriptions and stories, all of which gave him insights into those deities to whom he had pledged himself, but his name was not there. In his readings, he had learned a bit of the influences of numbers and letters, and so he searched next among them. He arranged letters according to the prescribed patterns, examined their meanings, and arranged different letters according to different patterns. But, although he learned much about such manipulations, he still did not discover his name.

Finally, all his own resources exhausted, the man turned to the only source that remained, that source which was not his except that he was of it, and as a part of it shared in its abundance. And this source, the man called God. And so he called to his god by many names, praying in many ways to many aspects. He wondered, for a moment, if he should also call to his god’s complement, that which the man called Goddess, but he was pouring all his soul and spirit into his cries, and had nothing left inside to direct to the (for him) more difficult task of seeking Her. So the conscious thought passed after a brief instant. But as it passed, he recognized it, and burned for a deeper understanding of his goddess, that he might seek Her aid also in his longing and need. And then, his consciousness ceased to worry or discuss, and all the remainder of his being flowed into his prayer, and he cried out, wordlessly, “I need! Help me, for I need! I have exhausted myself, and have not fulfilled myself! Guide me! WHAT IS MY NAME?”

And, in that consuming lack of directed thought, images began to form within the man. He found himself crouching, hungry, cold, in the forest, longing. And he sensed something approaching, something so powerful and magnificent that he did not know what to call it. But, in his hunger and his cold and his need, he leaned forward, in anticipation of the Presence. And It approached. Suddenly, with the man was a large, powerful wolf, muscles and fur sleek and shiny in his prime, carrying in his tremendous jaws the fresh carcass of a doe, her blood staining and matting his fur, steam rising from her warm flesh in the cold air. And, the Wolf spoke, images resolving themselves in the mind of the man, intelligible without words. And the images of the Wolf, so strong as to deafen the man’s sight, were, “COME. SHARE WITH ME THE FLESH OF OUR MOTHER.”

The man trembled, dazed, shocked. He tried desperately to form an anwer in the echoing spaces of his being. “We don’t do that! “ “Ritualized cannibalism is not our way, but theirs; and it is the flesh of their father they consume!” “Oedipus! No! Not I!” “How can a doe be mother to a wolf?” “Or to me?” Images of the woman who gave birth to the man. Images of denial, of confusion, even images of rage. Images of blood, and pain, and death, and a desire to separate himself from these.

And the answer came, the vision continued. The infant, suckling at his mother’s breast, taking his nourishment from her flesh. Cannibalism, not ritualized, but actual, and given freely, with love, a mother’s gift of herself to her child that is seen as no burden but a joy. And, in the same manner, the herd of deer that sustain the pack of wolves, giving of themselves both to nourish the wolves and to maintain themselves, bearing new young to replace the fallen and to nourish the young wolves of a new season, a symbiotic relationship that at its core is a cycle of life, which includes death, which is not and cannot be separate from death, but is simply sustaining, nourishing, natural, inherently and beautifully right. And more...the infant matures, begins seeking the flesh of woman, his need for nourishment and the sustaining properties of his mother’s flesh not at all lost with his need to nurse. And so he seeks those whose flesh is like his mother’s, female, with breasts like those whose nourishment he knows. And he finds there that she has needs and open places that can only be filled with his flesh, that she needs his nourishment as he needs hers, and he learns to give and receive all at once. And, as the simple, natural power of this understanding cycles through them together, the image of the female is transformed; the Mother has become the Consort, and again, the relationship is one of symbiotes, and it is natural, and healthy, and right.

Again, the image shifts: a new infant is born, of the bountiful energy cycling through the loving couple; this infant female. And the infant-turned-man holds her in his arms, and calls himself Father, and calls the infant Daughter. And, quickly as a flower unfolding in the light of the sun, she grows, matures, and stands beside him at that point just before her full maturity, and all the while he stays by her, for he finds he cannot leave her. He feels a need to protect her, to shelter her, to make her maturing a safe, secure process. And when her safety is threatened, he discovers in himself a depth of instinct he had not suspected, and he leaps between her and any danger as protector, and later he laughs and calls her Maiden. And, as he does, again he feels natural, and healthy, and right.

The infant-turned-man-turned-father stands in the vision, surrounded. His own Mother has aged; as Grandmother, she looks at his Consort and offers loving wisdom in answer to her questions. His Consort nurses and cares for his children, having become Mother to them while ever remaining his fascinating partner and mate. His own Daughter has grown from an infant, standing beside him as Maiden, and with pride he sees in her those qualities that will make another, newer protector see her differently, and knows that she will soon become Consort, and Mother, and Grandmother. And all these images are important to him, sustaining him even as he sustains them; and all are cyclical, dynamic, natural, healthy, and right. And behind all these images is the knowledge of the wolf and the deer, sustaining and balancing one another, their cycles somehow intrinsically liked to the cycles of balance between Man and Woman, and that, too, is natural and healthy and right.

And the man who seeks his name turns to the wolf, and admits his hunger, and together they consume the flesh of the deer.. And, as the man’s mind idles, he wonders at the similarity of the words “consume” and “consummate”--"consume mate?” And he sees not a hierarchy of predator-over-prey, but a cycle necessary to the survival of both wolf and deer.. And so he eats, and fills his hunger, and offers his love to the deer, to the “mother” that nourishes his body.

And when the man and the wolf have consumed the flesh of the deer, the wolf takes her pelt and drapes it around the man. And the man, no longer cold, accepts the gift of warmth, and again offers his love and thanks.

Filled with warmth and strength , the man turns to the wolf, questioning, recalling his goal. And the Wolf answers. “ WE ARE THE HUNTER, THE PROTECTOR, STRONG IN BODY AS WELL AS MIND. WE ARE ONE SIDE OF A CIRCLE, COMPLETED BY THE (MOTHER/GRANDMOTHER/CONSORT/DAUGHTER/FEMININE/GODDESS/DEER). WE SUSTAIN, AND ARE SUSTAINED; WE PROVIDE NOURISHMENT, AND ARE NOURISHED. OUR SKILLS ARE THE ANCIENT SKILLS OF SIMPLE SURVIVAL, OF PROVIDING AND PROTECTING, AND OUR STRENGTH IS STRENGTH. YOU ARE MINE BECAUSE I AM YOURS; YOU ARE WITHIN ME BECAUSE I AM IN YOU; YOU ARE ME BECAUSE I AM YOU. WE ARE ONE. YOUR NEED OF ME IS ONLY YOUR NEED OF YOURSELF, AND I AM ALWAYS AS CLOSE TO YOU AS YOU ARE TO YOURSELF. YOUR NAME IS MY NAME, AND WE ARE ‘HARN’ .“

Abruptly, the man found himself again able to think clearly, returned to the environment of his prayer.. He smiled, and called himself “Harn”. It felt good, and healthy, and right. He pondered until he felt he understood the whole of his vision in all its tiny parts. And Harn the man thanked Harn the god, and departed to prepare for his rebirth.

Only later did Harn-the-man think to thank Harn-the-god also for the gift of his goddess, but that is another story. Know simply that Harn-the-man did eventually recognize this gift, and that when he did, it was good, and healthy, and right.

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