At that first Sundance, I was thrust into an alternate reality. A brutal reality. The three counties that compose the Pine Ridge Reservation are the poorest in the nation. At that time, in 1991, the average life expectancy of a resident on the "Rez" was 48 years. Infant mortality was at a rate six times higher than the general US population. Alcoholism and drug use and gunplay and car wrecks were rampant. All this in America's Heartland! More than 85% of the population had nothing to do with the traditional ways. They were oriented to Christianity, and had more than a little fear of the things they surmised were going on "up there." I was told, if I were to come out to Sundance, to be prepared to die. They weren't kidding, and it was not necessarily about Sundance itself. It was about being on the rez. And being white -- wascicu (wa-si-chu) -- didn't really help, either. In their home town, Wanbli, one of the families ran out of toilet paper. I volunteered to walk across the street to their Auntie's to borrow some. It was night. Six of the kids in the house gathered at the door to watch. When I asked what's up? the eldest replied, "Don't you know you're going to get killed?" During one six-week stretch while I was on Pine Ridge, which has a population of about 20,000, there was one violent death each week. The Chips' home (inherited from Woptura) was about 640 acres on the prairie adjacent to the Dakota Badlands. A log cabin built in the 1920s, a clapboard house with ceremony room, and a trailer were the family homes. Water came from a persnickety hand pump, outhouses were the only privies, and the roads were no more than splintered and sliced asphalt, if they weren't gravel and dirt. Winters were brutal, insulation was sheets of plastic stapled to the inside of the one-layer thick walls, and the diet was primarily canned and highly processed goods called "commodities" dispensed by the government. Seeing the Government's hand in everything, I have since come to believe that advancing "civilization" is not interested in killing off the Lakota people (or Native Americans for that matter) it is hell-bent on eradicating their way of being, which is all about a heart-consciousness that acknowledge everything is alive and all is to be shared. With the nearest hospital over 100 miles away in Rapid City, I, as a former paramedic knew that I could easily die from something as simple as a badly broken leg. Perhaps the strongest prayers of my life were prayed when I first understood the danger of the environment I was in. Actually, they were prayed specifically while being a passenger in Charles' 1978 Olds while racing through the partially paved, curved roads of the Badlands at 100 MPH riding on tires of half-rubber and half-splintered steel-radial belts! Arriving about two weeks before the Sundance started, I was asked to tend fire for it with a few other people. That meant hauling firewood out of the creeks with no more than a 1960s vintage pick-up, and chain-sawing up to twelve cords for use during the ceremony. Every inch of my exposed body (and in the oppresive heat, I could not cover what I needed to) was peppered with itchy, swollen bites from thumbnail-sized mosquitos. I would usually stay at least another two weeks afterwards, half in recovery, half in clean-up and all about connection with the land -- so much a part of the people, and now, inseperable from my heart. Sundance lasts for an "official" period of nine days. Four days of this are preparation, during which time there is a least one Inipi per day. One day is called "Tree Day," on which a tree is sacrificed and placed at the center of the arbor where the ceremony occurs. The following four days are the Sundance itself, which involves three Inipis or more each day. Along with traipsing far into the hills and gathering hundreds of Stone People for the lodges, felling as many as 100 pine trees (sustainably!) to re-build the arbor which had a diameter of about 200 feet, and setting up camp sites, gathering sage, and tending fire for Inipis, I was working 14-hour days. I had been given no more spiritual direction than "Live your life as a prayer as you build a place for the people." I had to thrust myself into a world where my primary relationship was with Nature. And Nature told me what to do as it placed me closer and closer to the thin line between this world and that which lies beyond death. As guideline, I used the principles I learned while tending fire for the Inipi, and just expanded them to fit the size of accommodating around fifty dancers and 100 supporters. My solace was found by constantly turning to my relationship with my Creator for strength and understanding, and the clarity to help others. There was so much to do, and the resources so limited. By actively giving thanks for everything that was around me that I did have, I found that I received many "you're welcomes" from nature that were both deeply personal and objectively obvious. Over the course of a number of visits to the rez over the next few years, I began taking on the responsibilities of Chief Firetender for the Sundance. Charles Chips, the Spiritual Intercessor, prepared all aspects of the ceremony itself, including choosing and working with the Dancers. I was responsible for everything that had to do with the physical aspects of the ceremony and grounds and, since I was very familiar with the property, mobilizing and working with the supporters who arrived to assist the Dancers. In this role, I passed on the little I knew about moving people to "one mind, one heart." What I did grasp was intention and an almost incredible amount of respect for whatever snippets of ancient tradition we were taught. Amongst the most powerful experiences of my life were the times when I got to go along to sacrifice a buffalo (tatanka) for the people's feast at the end of the dance. These were no hunting trips. At the time, the sacrifice of buffalo was just beginning to be allowed again. They were almost eerie interplays between species who understood their roles in the creation. I also began to understand how sacred space works: what you put in is what you take out. I found that no matter how daunting the size of the event, no matter how complex the details, or foreign the language or tradition, what allows things to happen in a good way--what provides a home for Spirit and fosters the miracles happening in any spiritual orientation--is the focused intent of the people who participate in it to channel something Greater than themselves toward the well-being of others. Out of that, the participants create the result. I found that regardless of the knowledge or use of the ancient prayers, as long as the intent of the participants was clearly for the greater good, that is exactly what happens. Next: ...and then, there's Ego. |
