The Origin of the Phoenix

(A Neme’o’ng Legend)
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When the Earth was young and new, the Great Spirit looked down upon all creation and beheld a most magnificent large bird adorned with shimmering red and gold feathers, almost as bright and dazzling as the sun.

The Great Spirit admired the beauty, remembering the moment when Phoenix was made. This bird was the pinnacle of creation – his pièce de résistance. All of the other animals admired the magnificent bird as well. In recognition of this universal admiration, the Great Spirit called down to the creature:

“Glorious Phoenix, you are the most-favored bird of all creation. Thus, I decree that you shall live forever!”

The Phoenix loved the sound of that. Doing a barrel roll in the sky, which made its feathers shimmer even more, it called up in reply, “I shall forever sing my songs for you alone, glorious Great Spirit!”

But the Phoenix’s happiness was short-lived. Day after day, it tried to live a peaceful life, but so beautiful were its feathers that everyone wanted (at least) one. People would chase it and try to catch a lost feather. Women wanted them to adorn their hats and brooches, men wanted them to appease the women and the children wanted them to help them catch trout. No matter where the Phoenix went, there was always someone wanting its feathers!

“I cannot live here,” it thought miserably and flew to another land, but the story was the same; the people wanted its feathers. Some even knocked arrows to try to shoot the Phoenix out of the sky. So, the bird flew on again.

This happened again and again in many different lands, but always, the people wanted the feathers and would stop at nothing to get them.

At last, the weary Phoenix decided that it had to live away from humans, and flew until it found a beautiful place to live, in a high, hidden desert, where there were no humans. There, the Phoenix lived peacefully, flying freely and singing songs of praise and gratitude to the Great Spirit.

After about 500 years, the Phoenix was still alive, but it was old and tired, having lost much of its strength. It couldn’t soar so high anymore, nor fly so fast or far. “I don’t want to live like this,” the Phoenix thought. “I want to be young and strong again.”

The Phoenix sang to the Great Spirit. “Glorious Great Spirit, make me young and strong again!”

It waited for an answer, but did not hear one. Day after day, the Phoenix sang the song again, imploring to the Great Spirit.

“Maybe the Great Spirit doesn’t live here,” it thought, sadly. The Phoenix decided to return to where it had begun in the very beginning and ask again.

Over the desert, hills, valleys and mountains it flew. Because the Phoenix was old and weak, it took a long time. Weary and needing a rest, the Phoenix looked for a place to nest, particularly a place that smelled lovely and spicy.

The first place it landed, it collected pieces of cinnamon bark and fragrant leaves of all sorts. It tucked them amongst its feathers and carried some in its claws. Each place it stopped, it picked up more cinnamon bark and more leaves.

At last, the Phoenix found the place that had once been its home and decided to build a nest at the top of a tall palm tree.

Now, the Phoenix does not lay eggs nor produce young. As it lives forever, it has no need. Still, the Phoenix found some fragrant myrrh gum and formed it into an egg which it then put into its nest. Sitting, proud of its achievement, the Phoenix sang again. “Glorious Great Spirit, making me young and strong again!”

The Great Spirit chased away the clouds, stilled the winds and focused the sun onto the mountainside. All the animals and birds quickly hid, while the Phoenix sat, soaking up every last drop of sun it could gather on its beautiful, shiny (but ragged) feathers.

All at once, with a flash of light, the nest burst into flames. The Phoenix itself became a big round blaze of fire!

When, at last, the flames died down, the tree and nest sat there unscorched. But the Phoenix was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a heap of silvery-gray ash.

As the Great Spirit watched, the ash began to tremble and move as if something was inside it. Finally, something emerged from the ashes.

It was a young Phoenix, small and sort of crumpled looking, but it stretched its neck and tested its wings, stretching them out and flapping gently.

The Phoenix felt much refreshed as it grew quickly until it had reached the same size as the old bird. Looking around the nest, the Phoenix found the myrrh egg. It hollowed the egg out, then placed its old ashes inside before closing it up again. It looked back to the sky and sang to the Great Spirit once more. “I shall forever sing my songs for you alone, glorious Great Spirit!”

As the song ended, the wind began to blow clouds across the sky, thus luring all the creatures out of their hiding places, just in time to watch the Phoenix rise up into the sky with its myrrh egg in its claws. “Praise to the greatest of birds!” the other birds cried, flying behind the Phoenix.

“I’m only great because the Great Spirit made me thus,” it answered. “But now, I must travel alone.”

The birds watched as the Phoenix flew toward its faraway desert where no humans lived. It still lives there today, but every 500 years, it leaves its desert to return to its place of birth. It rebuilds its nest at the top of a palm tree and waits for the Great Spirit to call the sun until it burns to ashes, only to rise up again, fresh, new and young once more.

Eventually, humans found this desert, but rather than being selfish creatures, they did not torment the Phoenix. In return, it called the Great Spirit’s blessings on them. Blessings that appeared as the many swans of Swan Valley – for as long as the swans remain, so will the Neme’o’ng.

♥

Dancing Bear closed the book and looked at the group of youngsters surrounding her during the weekly storytime in the Ba’a O’ng Daycare Center. Her gaze rested on the young lady trying to keep her two-year-old daughter calm on her lap. Little Deer was such a caring mother. It was a shame that her life had been turned upside-down by the young man who had finally left her to return to Stormton, unwilling or unable to assimilate to the Neme’o’ng culture, despite its similarities to both the Arapaho and Shoshone tribes who had both contributed to the tribe’s development.

Dancing Bear suppressed a sigh as she caught the attention of Little Deer’s brother standing in the back.

“Good story, Woxi,” Sage Eagle complimented. “Maybe the firebird explains why I travel alone in my life.”

“There is only one coonagwe,” Dancing Bear pointed out. “And it keeps being born again and again. You are a human, Kwina, and humans require companionship, especially one who will produce the next generation of our tribe. Your brothers have left, the task falls to you, but you do not bond. You need hemo’bi and umantow.”

“What would you have me do, Woxi? Most of the eligible women in the tribe have married. The ones at Stormton are either too worldly or too naïve to make a good match for our village.”

Or have already been in Hooxa’s bed, Dancing Bear thought additionally. “Trust that she will make her way here. One way or another. Just promise to keep your eyes open.”

“I will, Woxi.”

Sage Eagle took one last look at his youngest sister, then left again.

Dancing Bear hoped that her premonition would prove true – and soon.

♥♥♥