Be the Buffalo

On Christmas morning, 2018, my children handed me a gift my wife had thoughtfully selected herself – one she felt would appropriately close the year that had brought the greatest storm of our-then 18 year marriage. 

It was a small package, heavier than it appeared, and awkwardly wrapped for the shape of the object concealed. 

In my characteristic apathy, I slowly peeled away the wrapping to reveal an iron cast image of an American Bison. 

“Wow….This is great guys….Thanks for the metal buffalo!???”

Lindsay, at this point, being accustomed to my indifference, anticipated the sarcasm. She delivered her own sarcastic quip saying she knew I had always wanted one. She then let me sit momentarily puzzled with the object in my hand. 

After that awkward pause and a little Lindsay smirk, the kids asked her to tell me the story. 

She told how she had learned of the contrasting behavior of cows to buffalo when a storm approaches (most people have already heard this phenomenon, but at the time it was new to me.)

“Cows run away from the storm while the buffalo charges towards it – and gets through it quicker. Whenever I’m confronted with a tough challenge, I do not prolong the torment, I become the buffalo.” 

– Wilma Mankiller – the first ever female Chief of the Cherokee Tribe

Or this description from Rory Vaden in The Tennessean, Jan. 23, 2015

In Colorado, where I grew up, we are world famous for the Rocky Mountains.
What a lot of people don’t realize, however, is that the state is divided
almost exactly in half. And to the eastern part of the state are the great
Kansas plains. Because of that unique topographical landscape, we are one of
the few places in the world where there are both buffalo and cows in such close
proximity.

When storms come, they almost always brew from the west and roll out toward
the east.

What cows do is very natural. Cows sense the storm coming from the west and
so they start to try to run toward the east. The only problem with that is that
if you know anything about cows you know they aren’t very fast.

So the storm catches up with the cows rather quickly. And without knowing
any better the cows continue to try to outrun the storm. But instead of
outrunning the storm they actually run right along with the
storm. Maximizing the amount of pain and time and frustration they experience
from that storm!…

…What buffalo do on the other hand is very unique for the animal kingdom.
Buffalo wait for the storm to cross right over the crest of the peak of the
mountaintop and as the storm rolls over the ridge the buffalo turn and charge
directly into the storm.

Instead of running east away from the storm they run west directly at the
storm. By running at the storm they run straight through it. Minimizing the
amount of pain and time and frustration they experience from that storm.

The buffalo imagery was representative of a meaningful perception Lindsay experienced when contemplating my behavior towards the storm of the previous year. Knowing that my current mindset made the idea of any physical gift repulsive, my family gave me the one thing that could have any meaning to me at all…their genuine appreciation for my struggle.  

For the next few weeks, the buffalo symbol settled into my psyche. As much as I didn’t feel worthy of Lindsay’s claim that I was CHARGING through my torment, I did, without doubt, identify with a wild animal trudging through a storm. 

I placed the iron bison adjacent to the door jamb in my office. Each time I lifted my depressed head up from my desk I would see the buffalo by the door coaxing me to get my butt back to work. I can’t say that it inspired a spring in my step. However I can say that, like a buffalo, I never stopped moving forward. 

 Our family took on the mantra of “Be the Buffalo” as it was not just a symbol of my personal fight, but how our whole family approached my storm of despair. In my own mind, I envisioned Lindsay as the leader of our herd…the buffalo that sustained the weak and the despondent even as she exhausted herself as the lone member capable of cutting the path through our trial of drifted snow. 

A few months later, having been positively affected by the buffalo imagery, I went searching for a larger portrayal of our family’s resolute icon. 

I fell upon this: 

It’s strange…in speaking with others, I’ve found it common that one struggling through tragedy finds deep meaning in something they previously would have overlooked. I had such an experience with this picture by photographer Tom Murphy titled Bison Coated with Frost (tmurphywild.com). 

For many months after purchasing a copy it sat directly across from our bed. Each morning, dragging myself out of bed I locked eyes with this animal. Both of us exhausted…both of us weathered…both of us emerging from a mystified dimension not known to the untested. 

I found pride in “knowing” what was behind the mist, as surely did the pictured bison. Her head angled low, yet her eyes alert, prepared to engage her surroundings.  

There is something aggressive in her stance. Not an aggression of fear…but an aggression of confidence. In this environment she has the advantage. The frost and frozen ground are comforts considering what she has endured. There is not a mindset to initiate aggression herself. However, if provoked, she could best any beast with her knowledge…the knowledge gained journeying through the undesirable unknown. 

I hope the reader can sense my appreciation for this bison…and most especially that it is female. She has altered my paradigm completely. Because locking eyes with her daily, I slowly stopped seeing myself. Because, at that point, the image no longer represented a mirror. Instead, it represented my line of sight. She, the buffalo, became a representation of Lindsay. 

This majestic creature is my wife…the storm-battered, heart-broken, sacrificing spouse eyeing me encouragingly. She has nudged me through the parts I could manage. Those I could not – she cut the way through the snowdrift herself…the coat-covering snow evidence of such a cut path…a path I could not have managed without her. 

Greatest of all – this beautiful beast is not weather-worn because she HAS TO BE. She is on this miserable path because she CHOOSES TO BE. 

She is a willful companion serving in a sacrificial role. She is a VOLUNTEER. (She will also be embarrassed that I wrote this post about her. BUT…isn’t that exactly the character trait one wants in a volunteer on their team.)

Thank you to all “BEASTLY VOLUNTEERS” who exercise such CHOICE in support of their loved ones.