The Wolf You Feed
It is a brisk autumn evening. You sit upon the Earth, legs criss-crossed, and a cool bed of grass lies beneath you. Above you exists a half moon and a black sky glittered with millions of twinkling stars so far away. Distant, yes— but you can’t help but wonder about just how far away they truly are.
A cool, gentle wind passes by. Another day has come and gone just the same as the one before. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too strenuous, not too certain. Nothing gained, and nothing lost. At either side of you sit your two most faithful companions— a black wolf and a white wolf. To your left, the night-black wolf sits stiffly. With darting eyes and alert ears, he scans for the danger he is sure will come. To your right, the white wolf lies with his head resting gently on his paws. Wind whispers through his long, shimmering fur, illuminated softly by the moonbeams from above. With eyes closed, the white wolf peacefully rests.
Suddenly, the wind swirls. You hear the chatter of panicking leaves nearby as the wind shoves through them. The hairs on your arms raise with the chill. A familiar shiver travels down your spine. On cue, the black wolf throws back his head and howls. With haste and intention, the black wolf darts over to you. Immediately, you are secured between his teeth, carried limp and helpless through the night. Zipping through fields of tall grass, the black wolf’s deafening call leaves ringing echos in your ears. Moments later, you find yourself in a space you have been taken to countless times before.
The wolf slows his pace as he steps up to a rocky entrance. Upon passing through the threshold, Ohanzee opens his mouth and releases you to the care of a small candle-lit cave. You and the black wolf lock eyes, a moment suspended in time as his piercing gaze reflects back at you. Then, Ohanzee turns and bolts out of the cave and back into the chilly night. You settle into this space of safety, breathing in the stale air that accompanies you. The walls that surround you are gray. Not too light, not too dark. As you are left in the warmth and comfort of this cave in which you have spent countless nights, you cannot help but ponder. If it was any other nights past, you would lay down, doze off, and arise again when the sun returned. But this time, a subtle stir within you dares defiance. Why must you come back to this cave again and again? If you didn’t, would death surely follow? Your eyes grow heavy and your body weakens more with each breath. You feel yourself sink further into the weathered rock you lie upon. You watch the dim flames dance rhythmically upon the candlesticks. Eventually, reluctantly, you surrender to sleep.
It is a brisk autumn evening. You sit upon the Earth, legs criss-crossed, and a cool bed of grass lies beneath you. Above you exists a half moon and a black sky glittered with millions of twinkling stars so far away. Distant, yes— but you can’t help but wonder about just how far away they truly are.
A cool, gentle wind passes by. Another day has come and gone just the same as the one before. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too strenuous, not too certain. Nothing gained, and nothing lost. At either side of you sit your two most faithful companions— a black wolf and a white wolf. To your left, the night-black wolf sits stiffly. With darting eyes and alert ears, he scans for the danger he is sure will come. To your right, the white wolf lies with his head resting gently on his paws. Wind whispers through his long, shimmering fur, illuminated softly by the moonbeams from above. With eyes closed, the white wolf peacefully rests.
Suddenly, the wind swirls. You hear the chatter of panicking leaves nearby as the wind shoves through them. The hairs on your arms raise with the chill. A familiar shiver travels down your spine. On cue, the black wolf throws back his head and howls. With haste and intention, the black wolf darts over to you.
“Ohanzee, stop!”
The black wolf halts, teeth bared and muscles tensed. He pauses, then sits. You are face to face, Ohanzee’s eyes level with yours. A stillness settles over the black wolf. His breath becomes steady, his ears relax. A fresh silence fills the air. At your other side, Sagatay opens his eyes and lifts his head from his paws. He draws near to you, and sits beside you, exactly as Ohanzee sits on the other side. You lie back into the cool grass. Your eyes fall on the half moon above. You breathe in the crisp air that surrounds you as you feel the gentle swirls of wind brush by. And within only a few more moments, you fall asleep again, but differently this time.
You open your eyes. Not too far in the distance, an approaching ensemble of instruments announce their arrival. As you wake, you notice the pomegranate trees, once barren, now bare so much fruit that piles overflow onto the ground. The aroma of cooking spices fills the air. The music crescendos as it draws nearer. You have never seen so many people before today. They smile and dance, and children twirl ribbons in arrays of colors. As the people march in and gather around you, they begin to lay out mats for everyone to sit on. The carriage containing wonderful meals arrives. Close behind, the musical ensemble plays their final chords, triumphant and certain. Although you have never before met any of these who have come to meet you, you feel safe and at home in their presence. A man who you deem the cook portions and presents meals to everyone, and together you all eat. At your sides are the black wolf and the white wolf, resting peacefully, laying with their eyes closed and their head on their paws.
Author's Note
This story is woven from two threads—one ancient, one intimate.
The first thread draws from the widely-known parable of the Two Wolves, often attributed to Cherokee tradition, though its exact origins remain uncertain. The teaching tells of two wolves battling within us: one representing fear, anger, and darkness; the other representing peace, love, and light.
The question posed is always the same: Which wolf wins?
The answer: The one you feed.
While the precise source of this parable is debated among scholars and Indigenous communities, its wisdom resonates across cultures. I honor the Native American storytelling traditions that have inspired countless seekers, while acknowledging the uncertainty around this particular tale's provenance. For those interested in exploring this further, Clarity Chi offers thoughtful discussion of the story and its uncertain origins.
The second thread is deeply personal—this narrative emerged from an actual dream I experienced. In that dream, I sat between two wolves beneath a night sky. The imagery of the cave, the choice to say "stop," and the feast that followed all came to me in sleep. Upon waking, I recognized the profound connection to the Two Wolves teaching, and this piece became my exploration of that wisdom through the language of dream.
May you choose wisely which wolf to feed.
~O