Wisdom Keeper by Ilarion Merculieff Page A

had nests made of tundra grass on the main body of the cliff. The cormorants preferred the promontories sticking out from the edges of the cliff face. Least and crested auklets nested in crevices underneath basalt boulders at the base of the cliff.
    I watched as the birds would expertly maneuver around each other, land, and take off repeatedly from the tiny ledges. I loved this place because it resonated with the intensity of life, and the birds seemed to becelebrating the arrival of another day.
    One day, after about a year or so of making these trips, while underneath the bird cliffs, I was marveling at how thousands of birds could fly up-down, right-left, down-up, left-right, and diagonally, and never did I witness any bird hitting another or even grazing a wing. I contemplated their ability to do this and finally saw a connection between these birds and the hunters who never were lulled into a hypnotic state when hunting. The birds were full of life and intensely present in the moment. And somehow, this awareness allows the birds to sense and know where the others are at any moment. It was then I realized the power of being present. I wanted to be a bird. I practiced dropping out of thought and just being. I was doing it all along in watching these birds, and began to understand how I was taking everything in without interference of thought. Now my grandfather’s teaching about not using words, but to experience, came to life for me.
    I could not put words to it at the time, but in this state, one becomes nothing but pure consciousness, not attached to anything, even thought. As soon as I got into my head, into thoughts, I got lulled. I found that simply “being” in awareness and without thought profoundly enhances the experience and opens up new dimensions of human capability. As I applied this knowing to my hunting experiences, I too was able to stay fully alert, to feel the sea lion before it came, and to feel a deeper connection with the hunters and all life. And thus, I learned, hunting is a meditation, a spiritual practice. No one had told me of this way of being; however, though unstated, it was implied in old Unangan stories. Perhaps if I had been told, my mind would have interfered and fooled me into believing I had achieved that state. This learning was clean. It was my learning without interference of any other person’s spiritual constructs. But it is what the other hunters knew and practiced.
    I learned that the Unangan hunter suspended ego for group cohesion and hunting success. I learned how Unangan hunters deferred to the most experienced hunter and fired their rifles within microseconds of each other, and how everyone knew, even if we all fired a killing shot at the sea lion, whose bullet actually struck the animal first. This hunter gotthe first pick of the meat. I watched as the hunters all worked to retrieve the sea lion, taking turns cutting the carcass then dividing up the parts in roughly equal portions, no matter how many hunters were present. And, I knew that each hunter gave meat to others before his own family, especially the elderly and widows.
    I am so thankful that my male role models, like my Papa, my Aachaa, my father, and the hunters and fishermen, showed me that being a man means being patient, keenly observant, considerate of people and wildlife, cooperative, not macho or aggressive, soft-spoken, and present in the moment. Western society calls these qualities “feminine,” and somehow that is a negative, but in the Unangan worldview, these qualities are necessary to be a true man and a good hunter and provider. Without these qualities one cannot be an accomplished hunter and fisherman, or be safe when hunting or fishing.
    No Unangan hunter can kill an animal without knowing the profoundness of killing a conscious being. We were taught to have a reverence for all life and all life forms, that all life has the same kind of spirit as we do. Life comes from the same