As I parked the car in front of Starry Song’s house, the shaman who had the gift of preserving the ancestral philosophy of his people through stories and music, I noticed several people on the porch. As I approached, I saw that, except for the shaman, all of them looked upset. I didn’t hear a word, but their faces clearly showed displeasure. When I walked in, they left without saying goodbye, an action that confirmed my initial impression. Despite the discomfort, I was welcomed with joy and a tight hug, as always. After leaving my suitcase and backpack in the guest room, I settled into the couch on the porch, beside the rocking chair where Starry Song was filling the red stone stummel of his distinctive pipe with tobacco. He then lit it, took a few puffs, and watched the smoke dance before his calm eyes, carried by the cold breeze of that autumn afternoon. I mentioned that the people who had left when I arrived seemed angry. The shaman nodded and said, “It was my brother, his wife, and his brother-in-law.” I asked if there had been a disagreement. Starry Song explained, “They lived in Florida for many years. They had several businesses. For various reasons, none of them worked out. They came back. They asked me to co-sign a bank loan. They want to start a new venture. They proposed I become a partner. I declined both the request and the proposal.” I asked why. He said, “In some cases, no is a complete message.”
I changed the subject. I was there to take part in the autumn equinox ceremony. We talked a bit about the ritual, and Starry Song clarified several of my doubts. The spiritual world isn’t understood through a single equation. When the moon was high in the sky, we went to rest. The next day, we were at the breakfast table when we were surprised by the arrival of the shaman’s brother. His name was Agasga. Physically, he looked a lot like the shaman, but I could tell that his manners were quite different. I had no doubt he was there to continue the conversation from the day before. I said I’d leave them alone. Starry Song gestured with his hand for me to stay seated. Without delay, Agasga questioned his brother about the refusal to help with his new venture. In a respectful, measured, and clear tone, the shaman explained, “I would have to mortgage this house. And over the years, you’ve shown that you don’t manage businesses well, so I don’t feel comfortable knowing that in a few months the bank might take this refuge from me. Apart from the rusty pickup truck parked outside, I own nothing else. Nor do I need to. I earn enough to feed myself and wear clean clothes. What’s sufficient is enough. However, at this point in the curve of my life, the house is important to me. I’m not willing to take that risk.” Agasga reminded him that he had always defended the idea that risk is inherent to life. He used to say it was impossible to live fully without embarking on adventures. Starry Song reflected, “Risks are connected to courage, the virtue of undertaking a journey that, while you understand it to be necessary, offers no certainty about its outcome. They are essential experiences for growth and self-discovery for all people. But understand, this journey of entrepreneurship is not mine, it is yours. Therefore, the risks should also be yours, not mine. It doesn’t seem fair or wise that I should bear the risks of your adventure.”
Agasga argued that they were family, and thus had a duty to help each other. His brother replied, “Without a doubt, solidarity is an essential value in this world and a fundamental element of our people’s philosophy. However, every aspect and virtue that defines a relationship, including generosity, requires limits, the important frontiers of personal connections. There is deep wisdom in knowing where to set these boundaries, and in maintaining them. I determine how far each person may go, and where I don’t feel comfortable having them in my life. Just as I decide whether to accept or decline an invitation when I receive one. This is a natural right. By allowing others to disrespect my boundaries, I distance myself from my own essence. By permitting an invasion, I end up unbalanced and weakened.” He paused briefly before concluding, “No, I don’t want to go where you want me to go. That journey is yours, so is the responsibility, don’t transfer it to me.”
Agasga said his brother had changed a lot. He had become a selfish person, attached to material possessions and unable to share good feelings. He hissed that he preferred the man the shaman had once been, rather than who he had become. Starry Song curved his lips into an almost imperceptible smile, as if expecting an attack at that level, and replied, “Saying I’ve changed is a compliment; there’s no evolution without transformation. Though not every change pleases everyone. It’s common for those who’ve grown used to a lack of boundaries to revolt when they face a ‘no.’ Understanding responsibility for oneself helps clarify the boundaries of responsibility toward others. Healthy and conscious limits have nothing to do with selfishness. Every relationship needs well-marked boundaries to prevent abuse and to help preserve each person’s will, perspective, direction, and values.” He paused again before concluding, “You may have a hard time accepting it right now, but the ‘no’ I’m giving is an act of deep respect for myself. It’s not about embracing selfishness, but about maintaining a loving relationship with intense, deep, and sincere dialogues with myself. No one should give that up.”
Starry Song continued, “I can help you in other ways, like volunteering a few hours a day at your new business until you can afford to hire employees; or contributing a monthly amount, within my means, to help with the shop rent for a set period. Any other ideas you have about how I can help, I’ll be willing to consider.” Agasga cast a look of contempt at his brother and declared himself disappointed. He missed the brother he once had and who no longer existed. He turned on his heels and left.
Silence. The shaman picked up an apple from the fruit basket on the table and, unhurriedly, cut it into several pieces, as if the act helped him think calmly, preventing Agasga’s action from triggering an unbalancing reaction within himself. I asked if everything was okay. Starry Song placed a slice of apple in his mouth and chewed it with closed eyes, slowly, as if the fruit’s sweetness helped soothe the moment. Then he said, “Yes, I’m fine. The hostility and discontent belong to him; I won’t let them take up space in me, nor tear me away from my axis of light. Boundaries are the demarcations between what you are willing to allow and what makes you uncomfortable. No one can live well while feeling at odds with themselves. Consciously expressed yes and no keep the course of life under one’s own control. This is a fundamental mechanism for preserving identity and self-determination. The absence of these elements turns freedom into a fictional concept.” He paused briefly before concluding, “The absence of limits, the inability to maintain them, or their eventual porosity, through which abuse seeps, generate toxic relationships. On one side, interests, often irresponsible, are served; on the other, what remains is a trail of resentment and embarrassment for having allowed something that goes against one’s own conscience. In a relationship without boundaries, or even in a single situation where existential frontiers aren’t defended, all that remains is domination, manipulation, abuse, or emotional blackmail of one person over another.”
I commented that his relationship with his brother would be affected. Undoubtedly, the shaman’s refusal would push Agasga away. Starry Song furrowed his brows and disagreed: “Not necessarily. Limits structure respect. The initial impact of frustration might cause some distance, but over time, his perspective will change; he’ll stop seeing me as naïve or easy prey and start seeing me with the respect I earned.” I asked him to explain further. He clarified: “If I gave in, I would be enabling a behaviour I don’t agree with. I’m not interested in relationships like that. Healthy relationships are based on mutual respect, a beautiful way of loving and feeling loved.” I pointed out that Agasga didn’t seem willing to change his way of being. The shaman shrugged and said, “It’s not my role to change anyone. However, I can change the way I relate to people. If you pay attention, you’ll see that no one really forces us to do anything; we’re the ones who haven’t yet developed the strength and balance to live according to the truth as we understand it. In short, we still say yes in situations where we need to say no. In such cases, even though the harm is an incoherent, improper, and unwanted permission, it’s still permission”. He chewed another piece of apple and added: “A relationship based on abuse and disrespect doesn’t interest me. It would only harm me. On the other hand, by respecting myself, I establish healthy rules of coexistence. Next time, Agasga will already know the line he’ll never be able to cross. There won’t be the harshness of this morning. The relationship will be built, or rebuilt, on brighter foundations. My brother married very young and moved away from Arizona. We haven’t spoken much since then. But he’s always had a habit of influencing people to do what he wanted. He got used to it. Now that he’s back, it’s not my job to convince him to act differently. No one changes through pressure, only through taste and realization. What’s left for me is to make clear to him how I relate to myself and the world. Yes means yes, no means no, strictly within the realm of my autonomy; I don’t need anyone’s permission for that. There’s no need for conflict or fights. If I can’t improve the relationship, at least I’ll avoid an unhealthy model of relating. That alone makes it worthwhile.”
I asked what the consequences of that morning’s encounter with Agasga would be. Starry Song shook his head as if to say the consequences were inevitable and explained: “I don’t know how he’ll process the experience. He might play the victim, complain, and speak badly of me, which won’t lead him anywhere; or it might serve as material for important reflections on his behaviour; if it leads to transformation, it means Agasga has made progress. He’ll discover a more authentic, sincere, and fair way to interact with people. That depends entirely on him.” I asked about the effects on him, Starry Song. He smiled and said: “I’m already feeling them right now. They’re many and quite positive. The temporary discomfort of saying no rather than facing a long-lasting resentment if I had said yes; the pleasant feeling of having respected myself instead of the heavy emotion of allowing someone to destroy a part of me; the joy of having had an honest and fair dialogue with myself rather than taking an action that went against my outlook, guidelines, feelings, and values just to please someone else. Not letting anyone think, speak, or decide for you is a clear demonstration of self-respect, the equivalent of a spiritual spa; there’s no better way to care for yourself. In acts like this, maturity and identity deepen their foundations a bit more, reverberating into lighter, smoother days.”
I asked if he agreed that no was more powerful than yes. The shaman immediately replied: “Not at all. That’s not what I said. On the scales of relationships, yes and no carry the same weight. There’s a right time to expand limits, just as there’s an exact moment to tighten them. We must not become prisoners of inflexibility and strictness, nor victims of apathy and subservience. Everything changes according to people and situations. Everything changes as we get to know ourselves more and better. Truth expands, feelings evolve. There must be harmony, resilience, good sense, love, and wisdom to manage the boundaries of relationships. Remember, each person lives within themselves. Limits are like the front door of a house. If left wide open, unwanted intruders will come in; there’ll be theft, mess, and confusion. No one lives well in a place like that.”
He offered me a slice of apple, waited for me to accept, and continued: “If the door never opens for anyone to enter, you’ll miss out on the richness, experiences, and joys typical of companionship, which can’t be achieved in any other way. You’ll feel abandoned and be forgotten. In either case, never blame the world for the harm you cause yourself.”
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
