Food For The Soul

“The Forces that work on us are not visible to our eyes. We cannot hear them with our ears. They touch us but we cannot feel them. Fragrant they may be, yet we smell them not. The Forces are sweet, but we can’t taste them...”

The shaman speaks, his body moving to the rhythm of the words. Maybe I can’t smell the Forces that work on me, but I can smell the stew simmering over the coals he’s standing behind.

“We come together here in this holy place as the Forces work on each of us, to partake of our daily meal, giving thanks to the Forces that they worked their will on Brother Jean-Claude, guiding his arrow to the raccoon...”

I know the shaman is a holy man, but could he possibly speak a bit faster? I can’t be the only one with a growling stomach.

“In these times, after so many have lost so much, and in honor of their will worked through Brother Jean-Claude we give thanks for the Forces and the many Ways they work on us. For this special blessing, let us praise each Way in turn...”

Please, no. There are One Hundred Ways!

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