Pangu 盤古 or 盘古 - Ethan - Pangu's parents are the ying and the yang.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
Post #9 The Story of Manabush
Long ago, after I fell from the heavens, I was living in the land on the Anishnabe people. It was the time of year where the winter months were melting away and the land was beginning to flourish to life. I was helping the land grow, overseeing it thrive, as that was what some of my powers were. Spuds of potatoes were growing in the land, as was the corn beginning to be planted. New life was happening all around us.
I was living in my wigwam home, which the native people had built for me. My daughter lived with me as well. Her name was Wenonah, and she was one of the most beautiful women in the land. Everyone was wanting to marry her, and so many of the people would come to me, begging for Wenonah to be their bride. Wenonah may have been beautiful, but she was also young and foolish and had a hard time listening to me.
In this time of spring, it was very nice out. I remember Wenonah asked me if she could go on a walk outside. I didn’t think she should have, but she insisted. She was a very stubborn one… I had a bad feeling in my stomach, but I allowed her to go out anyways.
Time passed. Minutes turned into hours… Hours turned into days…Days turned into months… I had no idea where my daughter had gone. I was so sad and afraid. I kept asking myself why I had allowed her to leave. I was constantly praying for her return home, and all the people of the village were keeping one eye open, and trying to find her.
I was heartbroken. The land was so alive and beautiful, but everything seemed so hopeless. It was not until eagle came down to see me that some hope began to form. He flew down from the sky and visited me in my wigwam. He said to me “Nokomis! Nokomis! I have seen Wenonah! She has been taken by the West Wind! He is so mean to her, Nokomis. He looks her up in his home when he is away and beats her when he comes back!” He then told me how he would try to fly down to get her, but he could not. The wind was too strong and was threatening to kill him everytime he tried.
When Eagle told me this news, I was furious at was had been happening, but I felt a bit better at knowing where my daughter was and that she was alive. However, there was still nothing that we could do about her arrival home. All we could do was wait.
We did wait. For months, I waited, hoping for Wenonah to return home. It was only when Spring turned into summer, did she arrive.
I was in my wigwam when I heard my name being called. The noise was coming from the woods and I leaped from my home and ran to the source of the sound. In the woods, I came upon my daughter. Wenonah looked so sick and frail. Over the months she was gone, she had become pregnant. She was however to weak to give birth, and when she did, she passed onto the next world. She gave birth to two children, but one of them had the same fate as their mother.
So much grief had been placed onto me. My beautiful daughter, and one of her children were to young to have died. I brought the living child back into the wigwam and placed him under a bowl, to keep him hidden from the West Wind. I then returned back to my daughter and her child.
I mourned for four days and four nights. In my culture we do not leave the bodies of our loved ones alone. We stay with them while their spirits travel to the heavens. At the end of the four days I begin to hear whining noises coming from the wigwam. I then remembered Wenonah's living child!
I had totally forgotten about the child in my period of mourning. I rushed back to the home and lifted the bowl from his body. However, instead of a small baby, I instead found a little white rabbit. My grandson, had already began to trick me. He transformed into an animal so he could shock me and eat the grass in the home. I scooped the rabbit into my arms and said to him “Manabush… Manabush… My sweet granson….” Manabush was his name and he was my little white rabbit.
All though there was much grief that came with him, Manabush would grow up to be a trickster, a transformer, but most importantly a teacher to the Native people. I would raise him, and he would become a hero. A hero his mother could be proud of.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Post #8
I wrapped my grandson in a blanket and left him in my wigwam hidden underneath a bowl in fear that the West Wind would return. Then I buried Wenonah and her other child far from the wigwam. I prayed for their spirits and for four days and nights I mourned them. It was not until the end of the four days that I began to hear a crying.
In my period of sadness, I had completely forgotten about Wenonah’s child. I had forgotten to feed him, to care for him and now I was hearing his cries coming from the wigwam.I rushed into my home and took the bowl off of him. However when I lifted the bowl, instead of a baby, I found a little white rabbit.
My grandson was a trickster from the day he was born alright. He had gotten so upset that I had forgotten about him he turned himself into a rabbit to scare me.
I took my grandson, my little white rabbit into my arms and I rocked him back and forth. “Manabush...Manabush….” I said over and over.
Although so much pain had happened, Manabush was born out of it. He had been sent from the heavens to become a teacher to the people, to teach lessons and to help the native people.
I just know that his mother has watched down upon him, and just like me, she is very proud.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Post #7
After I knew where my daughter was I felt better, but I was still filled with so much anger and sadness and worry about what was happening to her. I waited for months for something to happen, and I continued to pray for my daughters safety.
My story does not have a large climax. There is no huge battle, no explosions or fights, or even an encounter with the antagonist. There is however a character returning home.
One day I heard noise coming from the woods… I heard “Nokomis! Nokomis”. I ran into the woods, and deep into the trees I see my daughter. She was so weak and looked so sick. I took her back home, to the wigwam. Over the months she was gone she had become pregnant from the west wind. My daughter was finally home, but she was not well. Wenonah was much to weak to give birth, and when she did, she was not able to survive. She gave birth to two children, yet one of them had the same fate as their mother.
What was left was only me and my small grandson, and so much mourning to be done.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Post #6
I remember the day…. It was warm out and Wenonah told me she wanted to go out for a walk. I told her it was a bad idea, but she insisted. Eventually I let her go. I was still uneasy, but the day warm and nice and I thought it would be okay. However, as the day went on, she did not return.
The days went on and she was still gone. I had no idea where my dear daughter had gone. I was so upset, so sick with grief. I was crying and was trying to use all of my magic, to get my daughter home. As the time passed, with still no sign of Wenonah, I was beginning to lose hope.
Then on day, Eagle came flying down from the sky. He said to me “Nokomis! Nokomis! The West Wind, he has taken Wenonah! He has taken her and is so mean to her. He locks her up in his house for days at a time when he leaves to make the wind!” I was absolutely shocked at what I heard, but I was put at a sense of ease at knowing where my daughter has gone.
Eagle told me that he was unable to go down to the West Winds home, because he made the wind too strong to fly through. Eagle could not go down, or else he would be killed. The west wind is what stood between us and Wenonah, and is what caused our pain and suffering in the first place. If he had not been selfish, and thought that anything, or anybody was his property, then there would be no story to tell and my daughter would have been safe and sound....
If only.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Post #5
There are many people who influence the course of the stories we live through. All of them play an important part, not matter how small they may seem. I of course play a part in the story, but you already know so much about me, so I will describe to you everyone else.
First of all there is my daughter Wenonah. When she was just a young women, she was very beautiful. Everyone across the land wanted to marry her. She was so lovely, but she was also foolish and naive It was often hard for her to listen to me, which made it hard for me to protect her.
There was eagle, a wonderful creature. He was brave, and helpful and I don’t think I can never thank him enough for all that he has done for me.
The West Wind, a cruel creature. Some call him Mudjekeewis He is the spirit who embodies the wind. He is a howling creature, and one of the worst beings I have yet to encounter. He’s incredibly angry and rude and can even transform into a bear. He is not a creature one would want to encounter.
Then there is Manabush... My sweet grandson. What a trickster he is. With his abilities to change into different forms, but his favorite being the rabbit, he is very wild. He grows but to be a great man though, just like his mother would have wanted.
Post #4
There are many stories that I could tell, but there is one that is very important to me. It is the story of how my grandson came to be. I would normally tell all of my stories out loud, but I will make this exception.
It’s funny how this event happened so long ago, but I remember it just like it was yesterday. It was warm out, the earth breaking from winter into spring. The grass was dry but was beginning to grow and life was awakening. Potatoes were growing all through out the land, and it was very important to the people. It was a very important source of food The ojibwe people loved me dearly, and had made me a wigwam. My beautiful daughter and I lived together in this great wigwam and this is where most of the story takes place. .
The wind, although not really a place, plays a large part of our surroundings. It is so loud and affects how the eagle flies, and plays a larger part of the story than one would know.... but that is for another time. .
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