Sarah Koz

“It is a simple answer, really. It comes to Essa in the memory of XX’s old name. A fist is tight and tense, then it opens, relaxes, turns and flies up. It could mean Escape-from-bondage, but it could also mean: let it go.
“Let it go. Let the past transform as it will, let the future unfold. XX was right in a way about her expectations: she has taken to worrying at the world, trying to get it to make sense. It is time to let go, whatever that may mean: daughter, lover, friend, past and future.
“Simply let it all go. It will fly up.”
― Candas Jane Dorsey, Black Wine

“I could hear the roaring fill the air but I could not find a source. A waterfall around the bend, I thought, across these rocks. Ahead, I could see a small crack in the rock. I went forward prepared to leap it. As I took the step nearest it, I glanced down.

“And nearly fell, two hundred feet I’m sure, into a boiling cauldron of water trapped in a deep, narrow chasm of stone so curled and convoluted by erosion that it seemed like some fantastic cloth. I can record all this now but at the time I had to fling myself back, and the navigator grabbed me and prevented me from sliding in. We both fell backward, and I lay there panting and sweating.

“‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’ I gestured, and she crawled ahead. When she returned, her face was white, but she was laughing.

“‘I can die now,’ she said, that Avanue phrase Annalise has read in books but I had never heard spoken before. The navigator lay beside me laughing until she calmed, while the others, including the merchanter, took their turn. He alone seemed unmoved.

“When we jumped across the chasm (so narrow there was no effort to it)—and there is no easy way to say it—she jumped not across but in. I did not see it. No-one saw it but the merchanter. I only heard her falling laughter.…

“Annalise tells me that if a northerner says that phrase ‘I can die now,’ it means great joy, but they mean it truly. Not many of them choose to actually die, but they do not grieve for those who do.”
― Candas Jane Dorsey, Black Wine

“Now Ahta-hana was weary of wandering, and it seemed to him that he had surely learned enough that he might return home. He dreamed, and afterwards he said to his wives, ‘I know that my mother is dreaming of me. I must go to her.’ All four wives wished to go with him and he consented to their going. But it was as he had feared, their strength and endurance were far less than his, and he felt so much encumbered by them that he thought of leaving them and going on alone. To make this appear more reasonable, he caused a cold rain to fall, until they could scarcely drag their feet through the mud. He went on ahead; but he looked back and saw them still struggling after him. He was ashamed of what he had willed and done, and he knew at last that he truly loved them. For the remainder of the journey he made no more cold rains; rather he learned something of their needs and natures as he had of other life in the world different from himself, and he was no longer impatient with them nor did he think again of leaving them behind.”
― Theodora Kroeber, The Inland Whale: Nine Stories Retold from California Indian Legends

“What in heaven’s name do you mean?’

“=Not the name of heaven. Just the place you come from.=

“‘You don’t know anything about the place I come from.’

“=It is true I don’t know the place. But I know a great deal about the place now, after learning to know you. I know what kind of stories—not the stories themselves, mind you, but the kind of stories—they tell their children. I know what the children are led to expect from the world. Fair treatment. A happy life. Even that question you ask comes out of the mountains.=

“‘Is there anything wrong with that? You make it look stupid.’

“=There is nothing wrong, and there is something wrong. There is nothing wrong with making a place where children can be safe. I can hardly imagine it myself, but it sits on the edge of my vision like a small sun. It’s a blinding glimpse of something. Safety. So very odd. And I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a modicum of safety, though I think my way one at least learns how to react quickly. But there is something wrong in the kind of complacency…= his sign is complicated: a cat after cream, a fat despot =…which lets you think you have a right to a happy life just because you can think of the idea.=

“‘I don’t agree with you. Everyone should be able to be complacent in that way!’ As she speaks she illustrates the way by repeating the cat-with-cream sign. ‘But that other, that arrogance, I don’t think we are arrogant, in the mountains, like that—do you?’

“=Arrogant? I don’t know. Arrogant? A curious word. The arrogance of privilege. You had safety. That’s a privilege.=”
― Candas Jane Dorsey, Black Wine