by Gregory A. Kompes
Photo by Milo Weiler on Unsplash
The older man asked me, “Which wolf will win?”
What the hell was he talking about? No idea. None.
The conversation escalated around us. Everyone talking and talking and talking. Arguing. Debating: Politics. Current events. Resistance and protest and fear. Uncertainly at the core of everything. No one knew what was really happening. So much had occurred and changed and so much threatened all the entire nation had come to know.
That phrase echoed within: “Which wolf will win?” What could it mean? The leader? The people?
The debate raged. Two women looked like they might come to blows. A young man spoke up about James Baldwin and the idea of framing the fight in love. No one responded to him, but the man who’d brought up the wolf smiled and nodded his head.
Again the phrase echoed: “Which wolf will win?”
One woman in the room or the other, who seemed very close to blows. Were they the wolves?
The group had begun to divide, some on the side of one woman, some on the side of the other. They stepped toward one…or the other. The division and taking of positions seemed unconscious.
Sidling up to the older man, who breached the divide, the words slipped out in a whisper: “What wolf?”
Without hesitation, yet with a hint of smile, he said, “There are two wolves arguing in my head. One good, one evil. The good one kind and generous and thoughtful, the other jealous and greedy and angry.”
“Like an angel and a devil?” the young man asked.
The others in the little group quieted. The man rarely spoke, but when he did people listened.
“Perhaps. Although the wolves existed before the concept of devils or angels,” he said. “We all have two wolves fighting within us.”
That idea hung in the air between the group, which had unconsciously stepped in closer to listen to the man. In the listening, they’d once more come together as a single group, united in their desire for the story. For the wisdom.
“Which will win,” asked the young man, fully engaged in the moment.
The man took us in, each of us, one at a thoughtful time. He made eye contact with each one of us. He offered that kind smile and finally he said, “The one you feed wins.”
One of the angry women turned abruptly and walked away. The other, after a long beat walked away, too, not after the first, but toward the snack table.
The hostess came up to the remaining group, all smiles, a crisp white wine in her glass, and asked, “What are we talking about here?”
Everyone turned toward the older man, who only smiled back toward her.
The young man tilted a beer bottle high in the air, swallowed the contents, lowered the bottle, and said, “I think I’ll go find some food for the good wolf.” He walked away, not toward the food or the bar, but toward another group of people on the opposite side of the room.
The older man nodded and ate a cherry tomato off his paper plate.