Vizenor posited that the lack of concrete resolutions in many indigenous stories was a philosophical choice on the part of the storyteller. The endings flowed endlessly into other stories, sometimes without any specific order, where the “previous” death or exile of a character mattered little for whether they appeared in this story. This too is how I view life from a quasi-stoic, yet deeply emotional, perspective. I see myself as the storyteller of my life, and I choose to have events flow into one another, trying not to force them to conform to whatever I see as linear progression, positive or negative.

For example, people may argue that one naturally drifts apart slowly from their siblings, and many would see this as a natural occurrence as their siblings’ lives fill up with other people and events. One could argue that I’m not as close to my brothers and sisters as I once was.* I would argue that, if it is indeed natural, there is nothing to fear. I still feel sadness at the prospect/reality, and feel content that they have fuller lives simultaneously. There is no reason that one of these feelings must dominate, and overcome the other; they exist in tension. I feel these emotions as I understand Cvfe Lvkse, the Lying Rabbit, to be: in a narrative superposition.

I also never resign myself to drifting away. In fact, I recently visited my family in North Dakota for a few weeks, and we picked up more or less where we left off, our stories merging effortlessly. We played Magic: The Gathering for hours and my brother and I played Rainbow Six: Siege together. We watched interesting shows (Season 2 of Westworld!), played bingo together, and enjoyed long conversations on long car rides. I will not dominate their time, but I will be present. Their lives will continue to fill up, and so will mine. We will make the time, and I refuse to fear any hypothetical/real entropy. I will also fight against such entropy, as it’s part of my nature.

Likewise, my older brother’s wife recently had a baby. I have seen my older brother nearly as much in the last year as in the preceding 4 years. This too is part of the natural push and pull of closeness. I try not to fear the prospect of reversion; his time may fill up too and his position may change and that’s ok, and even good. I may, once again, see less of him and their beautiful baby. We will all be ok, and we will all be sad, and we will all be happy for our new experiences. All these things will exist inside me simultaneously, certainly. I also firmly believe that, if distance were to grow, we would grow closer once again. A perpetual, beautiful push and pull until we die.

Death, for me, is at once a final exit, and giving ourselves over to the ones that remember us. I am a spiritual man, and I believe that when someone passes they are no longer bound by their body or the confines of time. They become untethered, transcend this world, explore it, and may be reborn into it in some part. They also leave us physically forever (no playing Magic: The Gathering with spirits or bodies!). What remains here mainly is mental/spiritual, and is constantly ready to comfort, cajole, goad, and guide us as quickly as the snap of a million neurons. They are physically gone from here forever, but now exist anywhere, anytime we need them, and sometimes when we don’t! They/we become another element of the grand story that flows endlessly into and out of our/others’ stories.

 

*I would dispute this, but that’s an argument for another time!