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The Guardians of the Four Sacred Gateways and the Keepers of the Ethereal Fire

By RavenWolf

During the fifth year of my seven-year apprenticeship I somehow became aware of the Guardians and the Keepers. I had heard no direct reference, only occasional vague mention in prayers and songs. It gradually became a pet fantasy of mine to imagine who and what they were. I wanted so badly to ask the shamans this question, but I sensed that to do so would forever alter my life. I started to listen intently to every word spoken by each of the three shaman brothers for the slightest clue to their identity. Yet I would share my obsession with no one—not the other apprentices, not my anthropologist friends and certainly not with the shamans. I hadn't yet realized that one need not verbalize a question to ask it. The Guardians and the Keepers themselves had heard my question and had decided to answer me. But first I would have to prove my worth.

One rainy morning the Earth Shaman was speaking on his perennial favorite topic, Remembering. The Earth remembers every rainfall that ever fell. The rain—both heavy male rain and the soft, gentle female rain—remembers having fallen. What is happening now, happened before countless times. The Rain had the capacity to remember because it was once part of the Earth.

An idea occurred to me. If the Rain can remember because it was once part of the Earth, then I can remember who and what the Guardians and Keepers are. I took up my South Shield and rushed to the Warrior Medicine Wheel. I walked four times around and entered. I petitioned the Grandfathers to take pity on me and for Raven to guide me. I found myself on the spoke of the Childhood Dreams Remembered. I made the crossover to Adult Fears Surmounted and back to the South, Introspection. I started to shake and sob uncontrollably. The Fire Shaman cried out, RavenWolf, make ready. We have a journey to undertake. His voice came from inside my chest.

I gathered up my Medicine Bundle, my Sacred Bow and Quiver of Arrows, my Center Shield and my Wastewakan. I knew I would have no need of provisions or a bedroll. I noticed the Earth Shaman packing a lot of paints for markings. The Fire Shaman looked me in the eyes and said, We are sending you into battle. You are a warrior—you may return, you may not. If you are victorious, you will have the answers you seek.

We journeyed in sacred silence from the Black Hills of South Dakota to the Badlands of North Dakota—the geographical center of North America. When we arrived, I felt Raven perched on my shoulder and heard Wolf's heavy breathing, but my eyes would not open. When at last they did, the world around me was in astral coloration—the sky was bright orange, the boulders and my hands were blue. The Air Shaman offered the Chanupa Wakan—the Sacred Pipe—to the Directions and then began singing in a strange language and early style. The Earth Shaman and then the Fire Shaman joined him. Suddenly the earth opened and swallowed me up. I fell and fell through a long, spinning tunnel. At last I landed amid a horde of fearsome creatures of fire, positioned for battle. They used every manner of cunning and cleverness against me, yet I prevailed.

The Water Shaman, though deceased, appeared and started walking toward me. I wondered if I were alive or dead. He spoke, Ravenwolf, you have prevailed and been victorious. You have counted coup over and over again. The Keepers of the Ethereal Fire accept you and welcome you. He offered the Chanupa to the Directions. The fiery creatures began singing in a high pitched, staccato manner. I felt my body turn inside out. I was churned through a gateway. Then a massive army of x-ray-like entities rushed at me with full force. I fought with all my might. They disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. As the sound of their snapping and biting faded slowly into the background, I slept the sleep of exhaustion.

When at last I awoke, I found myself in four different locations at one time. At one, souls entered and at another, souls departed. At each stood a massive animal with multiple shadows: Bear in the North, Coyote in the South, Eagle in the East and Buffalo in the West. I had met the Guardians of the Four Directions. Or had I? In the fur and feathers I could see the faces of various shamans, some living and some in the distant past, some apprentices and some not yet born. Time was not one of the properties of this realm. The Guardians taught me many things.

Then it was the Keepers' turn. They were tall beings of multicolored fire, each one exceedingly handsome, with flashing eyes and pulsating heart. They continually emerged from and reentered a huge, undiminishing fire like themselves. I knew that I would once again have the ability I had in childhood of seeing auras—energy patterns—and sometimes glimpsing the future. I had remembered how it was done, or rather not done.