hey say the Bear was carved from the first mountain — not by hands, but by thunder.
He walks not to hunt, but to listen. Where others roar, he waits. Where others run, he stands.
In the old stories, when the world forgot how to be still, Bear went into the earth. He curled into silence, and in that silence, the earth remembered its heartbeat. That winter, no trees cracked, no rivers raged. Everything hushed — waiting for Bear to rise again.
His breath carries the medicine of grounding. His claws, the tools of healing. His spirit — a bridge between strength and serenity.
The elders say when you are lost, follow the tracks of the Bear.
They don’t lead forward.
They lead inward.
They call him Wás’agi — “The One Who Holds the Earth Still.”
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