I have one green eye and one brown eye. The green eye sees only the truth — the other sees much, much more.
From the day I took my first scalp in a war party, “the shaman is not, nor never was, a warrior. That needs to be evident.” to the day I first walked in the spirit world, they all knew I was something different “not looking for this degree of isolation. There is not a they and I here, but a larger, family-style community identity. They is the wrong concept here“. A shaman of the plains People “there are no people other than the People. don’t identify with indians or locale.” has many children, but he has no friends.
With my one green eye I can see the truth etched on the face of the distant peaks by the voice of the wind. I can see the sad fate of a small child as he coughs blood and clings to a frightened young mother. Yes, with my one eye I can see the truth of the all-father in every blade of grass dancing on the plain. “fill in this area — more detail of what truth can be seen”
But it is with my right eye, the brown one, that I see that I am alone. It is through this eye that I see that alone I entered this world, and in a few short years, alone I will leave it. It is with my brown eye that I see my seed blown as dust across the plains. Forgotten. “this foreshadows the ultimate tragedy coming down the line. this is the desperation growing from the pain of the upcoming tale to be recounted. this is a voice hopeless in its despair“