A little campfire story: The two wolves - ENGLISH

Here is a little addition to the last story.

I would like to share a little story with you, which for once is not mine. Some of you may already know it, but I think it is a story that you can or read more often, because it contains a wisdom that I am sure I am not the only one who likes to recall it again and again.

This story was present to me all the time during my last process, in which I felt great anger and self-condemnation (those who read my last blog post know which process it is).

These feelings were wearing me down, making me feel weak and powerless.

At some point I came to the point where I knew I could feel differently. Because there was acceptance and even compassion slumbering inside me. But for quite a while I continued to feed this wolf that was gnawing at me inside with my anger and condemnation.

After all I managed to see also the other wolf again, which consisted of love, compassion and joy, and began to feed it as well. However, I did not want to let go of the dark wolf quite yet.

It was not until the next morning that I was able to fully nourish the white wolf, instead of still giving energy to the black one. Immediately I felt much lighter and was filled with a simple joy.

Now the following story about this phenomenon:

One evening an old Cherokee sits with his son around the campfire. Silently they watch the flickering flames. Finally, the old Indian speaks up: "You know, my son, we humans carry two wolves in our hearts. All of us. And between these two wolves there is a battle raging..."

He lifts his head, his gaze wandering into the distance. Expectantly, the boy looks at his father, "Go on, Papa."

"Well, my son: the one wolf is black. He embodies the darker sides of life: envy and hatred, resentment and greed, lies and guilt, illness and pain.

The other wolf is white. He stands for everything good in life: For love and affection, peace and hope, gratitude and kindness, for virtue, faith and compassion.

Since time immemorial, these two wolves have raged in our hearts..."

Old Cherokee's gaze slid into the distance again. His son has become thoughtful. After a while, he asks his father:

"Papa, which wolf wins? The black wolf - or the white wolf?"

The father turns his head towards him thoughtfully. The stars twinkle in his jet-black eyes and he smiles: "My son, it's quite easy: the one you feed."

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