Walls built from our fear
we called it progress and power,
but truth lay outside.
Few dare to look out,
where silence holds the mirror
the self waits beneath.
Courage turns us back,
to whisper what we once knew
the world must be whole.
Before memory, before even the sky had its shape, the great Eagle soared high above a still lake. From here, Eagle cast his medicine down, and the world was first dreamed into existence. Mountains, beasts, winds, and stars all appeared first in that reflection, whole and harmonious. And upon that surface, the reflections of all things became form.
In those early days, people walked freely between sky and water. They listened to the breathing of the world and swayed and danced to the rhythm. This peaceful time was short-lived, however, as the cold seasons came, with storms and hunger, and they were hunted by the beasts of the forests. To survive, they built shelters to hold warmth, food, and safety. And to hide. It was born from fear, but it kept them alive.
Yet survival has a shadow.
Over time, this physical shelter transformed into a communal, energetic space of security, with walls that thickened with each passing year. No longer just shelter, it became a fortress. Then a throne. What began as protection turned into possession. They called it progress. But because of arrogance, it became a need for power. And though they no longer remembered the fear, it was still there within the mortar holding each stone.
This place became their sanctum, not made of glass or stone, but of denial. A collective rejection of reality, shaped by fear and sustained by belief. It separated them from the wild, from the breath of the world, from themselves.
Inside, they did not merely forget the lake. They turned from it. The dream was not lost; it was dismissed as foolishness. The need for power made them reject the rhythm of the world, not by accident, but by design. They pressed close, restless and alone, convinced they were apart from and above creation, not part of it.
But not all forgot, as stories were still being passed down and told within the darker alleyways of the world. These stories held a key to a secret door that opened into the original world that the Eagle had dreamed.
It was through these stories that seven hungry and searching souls gathered in silence one night, not to escape, but to remember. They had felt the ache of something missing, the pull of something older than words. They came not with answers, but with questions. And in that stillness, and within that story, the key was presented to them, the veil lifted, and they stepped out to the shores of the lake.
In front of them lay the world, reflected at their feet, just as it was in the beginning.
Then Eagle came down and circled just above their heads, but the seven saw no reflection of him in the lake. He did not speak. He only looked at them with piercing yellow eyes. And as if words came through his gaze, he said, “The walls that have been built by your own hands imprison you, and they hold inside a false world. And what is made, must be unmade.”
With incredible courage, the seven agreed not to flee from their human world. And not to escape and stay by the lake. They all agreed, they had been given a directive and an opportunity to awaken those still asleep. They would tell this story to those still huddled in illusion.
When they returned, the seven sat and retold their tale to whomever would listen, for they had traveled where few dared to look, and witnessed what no one else had. Beyond the veil of illusion, they saw the world as it truly was. And in the stillness of the lake, they saw the reflection of their true selves. The image had always been there, glittering on the surface, but it could only be seen by stepping outside the walls. And they knew it would take the crumbling of stones before people once more would see the skies and mountains within the reflection of the lake.
So now they walk with a purpose to awaken others. They press gently on the walls. They whisper through the cracks. They remind, teach, and reshape belief by telling the story of where they had been. And they slowly continue to chip away at the mortar of fear within the walls.
And one day, when the stone walls fall, as they surely will, the lake will once again reflect what Eagle had dreamed, and the world will be whole.
This is my journey,
— Nate Long “Owl”