Conditions Go

It was mid Spring in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The Sunlight twinkled and showed the Evergreens' greenery, flashing off the still water lake, a warm reflection of trees. Christian Easter was but a week away. That didn't matter much to Green Garden Snake, or for everyone he knew. He lived on a Lakota reservation.

Continuing the Lakota tradition right into the Twenty-First century proved successful in this town of three-thousand people, Landcaste Creek, despite the town's modern appearance. Their Teepees were swapped for townhomes. Hunting and fishing were swapped with textile facilities. Lakota hand-games were replaced with the entertainment of Iphones and whiskey. The town's politics however, remained unchanged as well as their native spirit religion. Landcaste Creek was self-governed through chiefs and chieftains. It's complexity was separate from the United States government.

Green Garden Snake lived a mixed-up modern life. He was named by the town's Holy man "Thozi Wacipi Zuzeca" or "Green Garden Snake" when he turned thirteen. The Wicasa Wakan(Holy Man) deemed him this honor due to his timidity. Because of this stern judgment Green Garden Snake brought the name to life and enacted it true, even if the boy COULD'VE actually behaved with confidence but just played along. He was quite a daydreamer.

"Hey Snake!" manager Fierce Coyote at the textile mill said. "You're stuck staring again. Get back to work!"

Green Garden Snake had a habit of being in the "zone", and when his manager jerked him awake to reality today, the bottle of dye he used to color yarn with, was leaning and about to spill over the edge of the table and all over the floor. With a sigh, Green Garden Snake ran the yarn through the machine and clocked out for his thirty-minute. 

He grunted at the thought of Fierce Coyote chastising him as he entered the break room. The floor was freshly waxed, glistening like a porcelain teacup. This triggered him into another bout of negativity. After all, he thought, the company cared more about the floors than it did about him. The truth was something was 

washing over him, a reluctance to talk with anyone. He deemed everybody on this reservation brainwashed or indoctrinated. He decided early to buy a bottle of whiskey on his way back home after clock-out. 

The next day Green Garden Snake zoned out so hard mid shift that the entire bottle of dye had been spilled for 10 minutes. When he came-to his hands, shirt, and pants were the color of bright lucky charm green. He knew what the consequence would be. When he finally got the news, it was quite the devastation.

Fierce Coyote caught him in the break room and escorted him to his office. As blood was pumping noisily through Green Garden Snake's temples, he sat down across from the manager's desk. The boss began:

It seems like there was a spill this morning in Yarn," he said. Green Garden Snake didn't flinch. His eyes never met with his boss's. A light spring rain pit pattered outside, and his attention was averted there, to nature. The two listened for a moment before Fierce Coyote continued.

"It's apparent you've been talking less and less over the past year. What is going on, Snake? You seem like you don't want to be here. You're... Somewhere else." Not even a sigh escaped Green Garden Snake's mouth, and nothing came out for five whole minutes. They were listening to the rain and the clock. The clock ticked to Green Garden Snake's impending doom, and, sure enough he was unemployed by that afternoon. Fierce Coyote had recommended he see Wicasa Wakan Holy Bear, as his ailment of muteness might be something serious he might ponder with the Holy man.

In the week after getting laid off Green Garden Snake decided nothing in Landcaste Creek was made for him. From well-thought-out processes of negation the man remained steadfast to his abnormally muted life. He went to the medicine man.

The holy man Wicasa Wakan's straw-matted hut appeared across the lake. It was tall and wide enough to show its reflection on the turquiose water. The muted man treaded around the wolf grey shoreline, his steps forming on the wet sand, the only way his body-bound soul would form to anything in the world. He

vowed to appear to Wicasa Wakan and try to communicate his alienation.

As he arrived the medicine man stepped out of a smoking annex, dripping in sweat. It was a sauna. Wicasa Wakan's used them for purifying their souls.

"Hello my son, Green Garden Snake," the Wicasa Wakan called out. Snake just looked shyly into the brown shrubbery nearby. The holy man was, after all, naked from head to toe.

"I heard it's been hard for you to speak. Your boss, Fierce Coyote informed me. He said you were in a state of shock. Shell-shock," the Holy man said. He put on a Creme colored shawl over his shoulders, covering up. He continued to speak.

"I understand you're young enough to be figuring your life out, but it's very important to get to the root of this. Can I ask you something?" Green Garden Snake stared into the holy man's eyes.

"When you go into this 'zone', these 'visions', what do you see?" He asked. 

"If you see the Thunder Beings, our tradition states that you must be a 'Heyoka'. A holy man. A sacred clown, an extreme contrarian to your culture, yet with extreme humility. You losing the ability to express yourself might just be a form of Holy controversy. You might be mute forever."

Green Garden Snake left with the advice to fast for three days and come back to Wicasa Wakan if he had a spiritual vision. If deemed as a message not from the Thunder Beings, he was not to become a Heyoka holy man. He ventured into the wilderness to try and summon a vision, and when he was unsuccessful he grew frustrated. He feared coming back to town and being dubbed "Heyoka". He feared never fitting in again in society. Above all, he feared never finding his voice, as it was necessary for him to speak again.

"If I'm not good enough for Wicasa Wakan to be a holy man then so be it," he thought. "I'll come back to reality an upstanding man, and forget this religious fervor. I'm NOT coming back if I can't feel my voice!" He mused.

The budding new man decided to ditch this humanity for finding his voice. It wasn't to be found here. It wasn't to be found 

in Wacasa Wakan. Green Garden Snake would have to scale the highest crags, hike the highest mountain of the Black Hills. Something physically exhausting must bring out his most inhibited voice? he thought. Everybody down here, in Landaste Creek wasn't the answer.

Snow lightly covered land on the morning of Green Garden Snake's ascent. There was a hiking trail he followed up until a point, where hikers didn't dare go any farther. He rested for an hour. He picked up his bags and continued, once seeing the very tip of a high cliff. He was to go there. When he got to the point it was midnight. The snow had covered him up to the knee, but he wasn't backing down. In between the clouds Green Garden Snake saw the effervescent night sun large enough to feel comfortable enough to talk with it, once and for all. Energy flowing under his ribs and in his heart had been waiting enough.

A powerful force came through Green Garden Snake's heart. The cosmos had heard it, towns all across the world had heard it. He finally could talk. He yelled: "Why the injustices, why the wars, why the disagreements, why the jealousy, why them and not me?! Why the illegible books across time, why the killings

why the disrespect and the name calling and why the backstabbing? Why the greed and the pain and incurable illnesses? WHY?!"

Green Garden Snake spoke to his lungs' limits. His eyes were flushing with tears yet he opened them. Through the vastness of the Black Hills the land began to warm up at his feet. Cloudy turned to clear with spots of rain. In one rush, a voice began to bellow from the night sun. It sounded to Green Garden Snake as every wave would crash on a silent island and continued until the end of time. 

"For Love."