Episode 6: Coyote's Broken Song

This is a story about what the coyote's song used to be and why it changed.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:37

Welcome to Spirit Stories, a spirit-driven podcast where the songs, poems, teachings, and stories of helping spirits are shared with the world. I am your host, Diana, and I would like to thank you for joining me to hear what spirits have to say. This story is about a coyote. Coyotes are magnificent beings. They are one of the beings that dwell within the four legged kingdom. They are kin to wolves. Sometimes they refer to other wolves as their brothers and sisters. Sometimes they are distant cousins. I suppose it would depend on which coyote you are talking to for that perspective. Coyotes much like the wolves love to sing to the moon, to a coyote. The moon is much like a mother, kin to Mother Earth herself, a sister even. And similar to wolves, coyotes love to sing to Mother Moon, to grace the sky with their beautiful voices. This was a time in the world when coyotes would run freely in groups with their brothers and sisters and cousins, the wolves. They would run quickly together, fast, letting the earth and the grasses flow beneath their paws. They would breathe in and out with each stride. They would look at the night sky and study the stars and sing to their friend Mother Moon. Coyotes at this time in the world had beautiful singing voices. Magnificent, in fact, these singing voices filled the air at night and brought peace and joy. And there was one coyote who stood out a little bit more than the others, a little bit more than even his siblings and cousins, the wolves. This coyote had the most magnificent voice. It was so clear, it was so melodious that even the wind would stop and pause just for a moment to listen. The wind loved this voice so much that it would try and capture all of the nuances and carry it with it, so that the voice could spread among the various lands, among the world, the animals flying, walking, swimming. It did not matter. The river maidens soon heard the voice upon the wind and fell enchanted with this most magnificent voice. The coyote was always ready to sing a song and share a melodious story with everyone. The coyote would sing of emotions. He would sing of happiness and sadness and joy and wonder. All of the peoples would listen. All of the peoples enjoyed hearing the music that this one coyote would bring about. They would dance and they would listen. As time went on, the coyote grew more and more popular as the wind had taken his songs across the lands. He became honored and even requested for the singing. It reached a point where other beings would bring gifts and ask him to continue his songs. The coyote loved the attention, and he truly loved singing. It brought him great joy, and the idea that others treasured his voice and his songs also brought him joy. So he travelled across the lands far and wide by himself and sang when he found a group of people. Sometimes he would just sing in the land where the tree people grew or over the grasslands. Soon he realized that as he sang, other beings would lean closer or draw near. He could be alone until he started to sing, and when the wind carried his voice, it brought others to him. They would praise him, and he loved that. He loved the attention. And over time he stopped singing when he was alone, instead seeking out individuals to sing for. And over time when he was by himself and wanting a little attention, he would sing to the wind knowing that the wind would carry his voice far and wide, and that his voice would be a beacon that called others to him, and they would be there. He learned and realized as he sang through time that the other animals were becoming unable to resist the power of his magnificent voice. They would be drawn to him, even sometimes against their will. Sure they would have a good time and be merry about it, but some of the beings like the beaver had work to do and did not wish to be pulled from necessary jobs that could be finished. Some of the animals had obligations and could not always praise the coyote for his song. So the animal nations got together and requested that the coyote stop. In fact, they reached point where they begged him. Seeing at particular times they asked, but the coyote refused. He loved the attention that he got. He craved it. He wanted the praise, for it fulfilled something in him. It made him feel he had a purpose. So he continued to sing. And when the other animals would resist, he would sing louder and faster and more frequently. He would sing with more intent and purpose. He would sing to draw them near him, even though they did not want to come. The coyote would sing about anything and everything. Sometimes it would be even nonsensical, and sometimes it could be a story of epic proportions. At this point, the animals had started to get together, having meetings and discussing the traveling coyote who sang to all and wanted everyone to pay attention to him. They had decided that someone would look out for the coyote and watch. There were flying beings who volunteered to fly above and watch where the coyote would roam, to give an alert signal to a sentinel who was waiting beyond the edges. When the alert would be given, everyone would go into hiding deep, deep in the soil, up in the trees. Many of them would even stuff their ears with something to deaden the sound of the irresistible song that a coyote could sing. And so as the coyote roamed, singing along, enjoying his day, wishing and intending for those to come and witness him and hear his glorious song and his glorious being. He started to notice that fewer and fewer were along his path. There were less people about Hm This would not do, thought the coyote. After all he must give the world his luscious voice So he thought I shall go out and sing to the ocean maidens. After all, the river maidens have loved his songs. Why wouldn't the ocean? So he wandered for days and nights to the edge of a cliff, where he could watch the waves of the ocean crash against the sand. And there were rocks below as well, and it was good that he could climb those rocks and stand upon the shores as he sang to the ocean. And the ocean became mesmerized and swayed one way and then the other. And the ocean's waves became mellow, calmer as she was lulled to a tranquil state by the coyote. And after the coyote had done left to roam about across the prairie lands for a little more time. He thought and contemplated Maybe he could sing to the swimming beings. He'd heard that a few in the rivers had enjoyed his song. Why not sing out to the ocean swimming beings? They must hear him. They would surely praise him. Yes, they would appreciate the gifts that he could bring. So back to the ocean he went, standing at the edge of a cliff near the rocks, and singing, singing with the intent to bring loving, beautiful song to all the swimming beings, singing with the intent of bringing them to him so that they may adore him, so that they may praise him. And he sang with strong conviction. And the largest of the swimming beings arrived. Oh, there were smaller ones as well. But the large ones came, and they swam up onto the shore just to hear what he had to say, to hear the melody that captivated them. And when he had finished, these swimming beings adored him. They praised his song, and they told him how much they would treasure his voice. Pleased with himself, the coyote took a bow and he laughed. So he did not fully witness the struggles that the largest of the swimming beings had as they tried to become detached from the shores, as they tried to turn around and enter the ocean once more, the very thing that kept them alive. No, these swimming beings did not make it. They could not turn around. They had been lured in by a beauty so unearthly, so captivating. They had enjoyed their time, and then they could not return to where they belonged, to a place where they could swim and breathe and live. And so many of them died on the beach that day, unable to turn around and return home. The other animals saw this and were very upset. The sun and the mother moon had witnessed this as well, and were disturbed. And when the coyote had come back to the shores and had seen the remains of what his song, the song that brought praise and attention, had wrought. He did nothing. He did not cry. He did not weep. He was not truly sad. He did nothing. Perhaps a shrug. For it was not his fault that the swimming beings came to hear his voice. It was not his fault that they could not turn around. He had come and sang for their admiration, and their admiration he had gotten. He did not ask for harm to come to these beings after all. And so he believed, and he had convinced himself that he had no part in what tragedy had transpired. And so the coyote had denied his responsibilities, had denied in this way the severity of his actions. And the coyote left the shores, not entirely comfortable with the idea of returning, for the sight disturbed him, and he was not in a place to admit why it disturbed him so for if he had admitted that he was saddened and felt guilty, then he would also have to admit that he had in fact had a hand in this tragedy. And that was too much to bear. How could anything so magnificent as his voice possibly bring about such shameful behavior? No. It was not his fault. It was not his doing. And so he continued to wander on, singing and calling other animals to him. Some of them against their will, some of them were grateful for the respite. And as he went through his days and nights the sun and the moon continued to watch, and they were even more disturbed for the lack of remorse that the coyote was displaying, and the animals continued to be upset, as well as the plant people and the stone people. Even the mountains grew concerned. For in the mountains, when the coyote sang, it echoed, and that echoed reverberated further and further out, drawing in more of the peoples. This was not good for the world. The world could not satisfy the need of the coyote to get all the attention. There was something deep within the coyote that he felt needed to be filled, a hole, if you will, and all of the praise and the gifts and the accolades, those he thought would fill the hole. And these were temporary things, fleeting at best, so they might fill the hole within him for a time until there weren't any more accolades to be heard. And so he would travel somewhere else to hear new accolades, new praise. And the animals and the plants and the beings realized that the world was not large enough to provide all of the necessary praise that the coyote felt would make him happy. For the coyote had not learned yet that happiness, contentedness, and peace is not something that is sought from the exterior world, but something that can be found from how you treat yourself within. The animals, in conjunction with the sun and the moon, decided on a plan. And they would enact this plan, quite ambitious, I will add, when the moon moved in front of the sun, blocking it out for a short time. And the day came when the moon covered the sun, making the entire earth and sky darker than it normally would. And the coyote grew sleepy because the power of the mother moon was so great. And the coyote decided to take a nap. And as he snored gently, one animal among them all had volunteered to creep over to the coyote as he slept and remove the coyote's voice. So the mouse moved as quietly as a mouse could. He reached into the coyote's chest and throat, and he extracted the voice. It was the size of a large acorn. It was amazing how something so small could be so powerful. And yet the mouse understood that if he did nothing, more would be harmed. In fact, the world could be harmed. And so with deep conviction, he crushed the voice in his paws, mangling it, not destroying it, but definitely deforming it so that it was no longer identifiable as a smooth, melodious voice. And when the voice was crushed and mangled just so, he returned it to the throat and chest of the coyote, and he scampered away as quickly and quietly as he could, and he moved as quietly as a mouse could. And as he woke he stretched, and he went about the rest of his day traveling, looking for places that might be populated by many peoples, places where he could sing. And as night fell and Mother Moon had risen again, the coyote decided to sing. But when he began his song, something strange had happened. His voice trembled and cracked. It would stop and then start again. It was it was broken. His voice was broken, and the coyote looked down upon his chest, and there was a scar where his voice had been removed and then returned. And the coyote cried out in anguish, for now that his power is gone, how would he move in the world? How would he be anything special? His voice is what he believed made him special. His voice was everything, and now it was gone. And the coyote believed that he was nothing without that voice. And he did not know what to do. He grew ashamed and sad, so ashamed that he would no longer run with the wolves when he had opportunity, that he would remain alone and travel the wilderness by himself. He could not go into a pack, not broken, not like this. And so that was how the coyote lost his voice. That is how the coyote's song in the night became broken. The mouse. The mouse knew that he did something terribly wrong and deeply regretted it. Yet the mouse had felt that he was in a position where he had no choice. He could not allow the coyote to continue on, and he could not bear the fact that he had harmed another being so. And as a result, over time, the mouse became more stupid and smaller, and he shrank in size as well as demeanor. And his children and his children's children also became small and defenseless. And the mouse and his family resorted to stealing the little scraps that they could find in order to survive. They were tiny individuals, not nearly the size they had been before the coyote's voice had been broken. Thank you for spending this time with me and for listening to what helping spirits have to say. If you are working with heavy machinery, please turn the recording off now. Otherwise, I invite you to feel what this story has brought you and the wisdom that it has offered to you as the drum plays.