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want to run away—but if you stay and do this thing, you’ll find things to be thankful for. You’ll learn what it means to have gratitude and you’ll make a pouch for each of them.”
    The pouches were to be tied together with the thread until they formed a long chain. “Then what?” I asked.
    “I’ll let you know,” was all he said.
    It seemed like a huge demand. To go without food and shelter was nothing new to me. I’d been homeless on a few occasions in my life and sleeping outdoors was hardly a new experience. But to do so by choice was different. I was suddenly very afraid. The fear came from the idea of being alone and powerless on a hill far removed from the things I’d learned to take for granted in the cities where I’d lived. This was going to just be me, armed with nothing, alone in a world that suddenly seemed untamed and unpredictable, far wilder than it ever had before. I was going to be left alone with myself—and it terrified me.
    My mind raced. For the next ninety-six hours I was to besilent. I could pray aloud if I felt like it, or I could even sing a prayer song, but beyond that I was to remain silent. John told me that the circle I sat in represented life and because of that I needed to be very respectful. I could not kill anything in that circle. If I needed to relieve myself I would have to bury my waste and keep the circle as clean and as pure as possible. The blanket was all the protection I would have. When I grew hungry and uncomfortable I was to pray and let Creation know how I was feeling, but not to ask for anything but the strength to see this ceremony through to its end.
    “Are you sure I’m ready for this?” I asked.
    “There’s only one way to find out,” he replied.
    “What if something happens? What if some big animal—a bear, or a wolf or something—comes along? What do I do?”
    He smiled. “You’ll figure that out if it happens.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “No. But I’m not the one who has to be,” he said with a grin.
    “But why? Why is it so important that I put myself through something like this?”
    “That’s what you’ll find out when it’s over.”
    And he walked away.

I
INNOCENCE
    There are silences in this life that can open up and swallow you whole. You tumble into them, senseless and disoriented. The sudden lack of direction leaves you immobile, foot-stuck, and mute, language suddenly a guttural rasp in the voice box. As I stood in that small copse of trees and watched John make his way back down the hill I wanted to shout that I wasn’t ready for this. I needed more time. I didn’t know enough. I was scared. But I couldn’t find my voice. My throat was dry and coarse with desperation and I took a big swallow of water to ease it. The further away he got, the more alone and isolated I felt and the bigger and emptier the world seemed. When he got into his car andbegan to pull away I waved my arms at him, but he either didn’t see me or was content to leave me on that hill.
    I watched his car until it disappeared and then I slumped down to the ground. There was the first chill of an evening breeze and the shadows thrown by the sun were suddenly deeper and longer. It would be evening soon. I looked around at the view that had seemed so friendly before this day but now was heavy with unseen dangers. I was scared. More scared than I could recall ever having been. Without a fire at night I would have no way to prevent anything from coming into that circle. I was afraid to be hungry. Four days without food is a long time and even though we’d had a really big meal before coming to the hill, the thought of being hungry for days frightened me. I was afraid my water would run out. I was fearful of the weather suddenly turning into a summer storm, of lightning, thunder, hail, and cold. I was afraid of insects. But mostly I was afraid that I would fail. Failure at this ceremony would mean that I didn’t have what it took to be Indian, to be Ojibway. It