The Refusal of the Call happens when the pain of changing is greater than the pain of staying the same.
The People went in search of Coyote to ask him to go on a quest to find a new place for the People. Chief Buffalo sent Brother Eagle and Sister Cougar to find him.
They came upon Coyote playing in a field of fallen leaves and told him that Chief Buffalo had summoned him, so Coyote followed them back to Chief Buffalo’s lodge. When Coyote approached, Chief Buffalo greeted him politely.
Brother Coyote said in return, “Why have you summoned me here on this fine but chilly day, Grandfather Buffalo?”
Chief Buffalo spoke, “I have asked you here to request that you go on a quest for the People.”
“A quest?” Brother Coyote asked skeptically.
“Yes, a quest,” said Sister Cougar, “The days and nights are getting colder, and nobody can say whether they will ever grow warmer again. The People are afraid that the warmth of the Sun might never return, so we are asking you to go on a journey to find a new place for the Tribe to live.”
Brother Coyote loved to play tricks, but now he felt they were playing a trick on him. He felt the disbelief rising in his heart, and said, “You wish me to go on a quest? Are you mocking me? Surely this must be some jest! Brother Eagle, I do not have your keen eyes and ability to fly high in the sky, so I could not escape danger, nor could I see it coming ahead of time. Sister Cougar, I am no great hunter like you. If I were to go on such a journey, I would surely starve!”
Why not send Sister Doe, who can sniff out predators and run away quickly? Or send Brother Bear, who has great strength, so he could fight an enemy should one overtake him?
“Sister Doe is much too timid for such a journey,” said Chief Buffalo.
“And Brother Bear is sleeping and has been for many weeks. Nobody knows if he shall ever wake again.”
But Brother Coyote was not convinced. One by one he named all of the creatures of the People; but one by one Chief Buffalo gave him reasons why they could not go. He explained that if Brother Coyote could not go, it could be nobody else.
“I am not a warrior!” cried Coyote, “I am not a hero! I spend my days running through the forest, playing and joking with the People! I am not clever enough, or strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough for such a journey! I cannot go!”
Chief Buffalo, Brother Eagle, and Sister Cougar looked upon Brother Coyote with sadness. They thought about pointing out all the ways that he was wrong about what he had said. They thought about listing all the strengths that Brother Coyote could bring to their quest, such as his ability to track, hide, and deceive a predator on the trail. But they had been down this road with Coyote too many times before. They knew that it would only lead to more arguments and more hurt feelings if they tried to talk him out of his decision. So instead they walked away with pity in their hearts.
As Chief Buffalo turned to leave, he said to Coyote, “I am disappointed in you. I thought you would be happy to help out the People, who have been victims of many of your cruel jests. I would think that you would like to make amends for your pranks. I can see now that I was wrong.”
And with that, Chief Buffalo walked away.
Of all the things Coyote had heard from the People this afternoon, the words of Chief Buffalo stung him the most. He had always admired and respected his Grandfather Buffalo, and it hurt Coyote deeply to see him so disappointed. But Coyote did not see what others could see in him. In his own eyes, he was just a trickster and a fool, incapable of great deeds.
With a sad and heavy heart, he walked away from the Chief’s lodge to return to his own den.
Answering the Call: A Change of Context
Change is scary. The comforting thing about the familiar is its familiarity; we know what to expect. This can even be true if the familiar situation is grim. Quite often we’ll stay stuck in a bad situation because the fear of the unknown can be worse than the current (known) situation. Such a sentiment is often expressed in the phrase, “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know.”
The familiar, however uncomfortable it may be, is at least familiar. We often choose to stay in a familiar, yet miserable, situation rather than to fly off to ills we know not of. When faced with the possibility of change in such a situation, an element of the unknown must be dealt with. We don’t know what to expect. What if, by acting, we make things worse? What can we expect to happen if we leave the familiar for unknown, unexplored territory? Sure, things might get better, but they might get worse too. When we let our fears of the unknown overwhelm us, it is easy to, like Coyote, refuse the Call to Adventure. It’s simply easier to stay in misery than to set sail on uncharted waters.
I was once traveling to a workshop on shamanism. This particular seminar was being held in a hidden-away corner of the Southern Appalachians. This was before the days of GPS, and I was having difficulty finding my way, so I stopped at a little country store to ask for directions. When I told the clerk where I was going, he jokingly replied, “You can’t get there from here. You have to go someplace else and start over.”
Of course, he was being facetious, but his answer was a great metaphor for the journey into the world of shamanism. If you plan to journey to the Otherworld which is the realm of the shaman, you can’t get there from here. This is one of the reasons for the death and rebirth experience so common to shamanistic paths throughout the world. The shaman must die to his old way of living and being in the world and be reborn into the life of the shaman. Sometimes the rites required to complete this task may seem odd or downright silly to modern eyes. Celtic shamans were required to stand on one foot like a crane, with one eye covered, while seeking visions or pronouncing prophecies. Some Native Americans stood for days with pebbles between their toes to keep them awake while seeking visions. Some shamans painted their naked bodies, lay down in boats at sea, ate special foods, slept wrapped in a buffalo hide, or engaged in drumming, singing, chanting, and a variety of other behaviors all designed to put the shaman’s consciousness in touch with the Otherworld.
So it’s pretty obvious that some of the rites, rituals, and tools of shamanism will feel weird at first. That’s okay. If they didn’t feel strange, you’d already be doing them. Given time you will become accustomed to these new ways of being and new ways of doing as part of your spiritual practice. If you cannot get past the unfamiliarity with drumming and chanting, wearing a feathered cloak, or performing rites, then you “can’t get there from here.” In such a case, you are not ready to enter the Belly of the Whale, and you are still in the Refusal of the Call. Answering the Call of the Coyote means setting forth with purpose, with determination, and with will. There’s no, “I guess so” on the Path of the Coyote. If you are not certain that you are ready, then you are in Refusal of the Call and are not ready for ecospirituality.
The way out of this Refusal of the Call is to trust the process. Trust your own instinct, and trust your own Supernatural Aid. Trust in your connections to others, to nature, and to self. Meditate on what your inner voice may be trying to tell you. The way to know if you are ready to take the call is to know with certainty that it can be no other way.
When you achieve this sense of certainty, you will be ready to die to your old way of being and to be reborn as a follower of the Way of the Coyote.