Thank you Phyllis, Jessa, AERA, the Navajo, Hopi, Havusupai and Hualapai for an amazing gift of a Summer!
Well I've found myself grounded back in the fertile hills of central North Carolina after what will surely be remembered for the rest of my days as my first transformative journey of self-discovery and community work with Native Americans in the deserts of the Southwest.
The last week and a half that I spent in Arizona seemed to intensify into the climax of the entire summer. The Havusupai Nation held a large rally out at the sacred point known as Red Butte which is some 30 miles south of the Grand Canyon. The event centered its focus on celebrating a victory against a uranium mining company that had interest in digging and destroying the base of Red Butte in order to harvest material. It was truly news to celebrate as the setting for the event was pristine and vivid, and I quickly understood what was meant by sacred. Our camp was surrounded by fields of wild sage-brush which seemed to fill the air with clean, dry scent that blanketed the entire weekend. John Densmore, the drummer from the band The Doors was there reading poems, speaking in solidarity, and playing with an all native band which was a pretty cosmic coincidence. But more importantly, this occasion provided rare, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities for me to talk extensively and quite personally with Havusupai and Navajo ceremonial leaders as I took part in two intensely life-changing purification ceremonies. For the sake of privacy and respect for those that held the ceremony, I feel like I can only really report back about the Havusupai Sweat Lodge I was able to partake in.
why do we need to mine this for uranium?
I. THE SWEAT LODGE
At the base of Red Butte the Havusupai and Navajo had set up a large teepee, a sacred fire, a stack of gamble oak logs to be cleaved for the fire, a stack of lava rocks, and a small dirt mound that would serve as the sweat lodge for the weekend. The Havusupai had been conducting sweats all weekend and offered open invitations to anyone wishing to participate so long as all participants would approach the sweat with pure intention and respect for the long tradition of the sweat lodge as a sacred purification ritual.
Check out the sage brush at Red Butte:
The opening of the sweat lodge always faces east to greet the sun and to symbolize a sense of new life/new day when you come out of each sweat session. Directly across from the entrance, a fire pit sits where lava rocks are heated up until it's time for the ceremony to begin. The lodge itself was ovular in shape on the inside and very small. The roof must have been four feet tall and the diameter of the space couldn't have been any more than 8 feet across. The structure is slightly beneath ground level, about two feet, and is supported by oak logs. The roof is insulated with dirt, sage branches, wool blankets, and tarp so that absolutely no light, air, or heat can enter or leave the sweat.
The sweat leader enters first and demonstrates the importance of crawling in backward as the act of entering the sweat is supposed to symbolize crawling back into an ancestral womb. Once I climbed in I was immediately aware of the dark heat surrounding me as ten or so adult bodies had been crammed into that tiny space. The air was heavily steeped with the smell of white sage smudges and felt thick, hot, and sweet, almost as if it were a tea. Blankets are then thrown over the entrance and then the sweat begins. The sweat leader instructed us to close our eyes as if we were actually back in the womb and started talking us through the initiation. His words were immediately hypnotic and I found myself quickly entranced by his poetic expressions and heartfelt intonations. The sweat leader was kind enough to translate some of his prayers into english. He then starts to pour and spit large amounts of water from a bucket onto lava rocks which had just been lain in the sweat. At this point, steam and unbearable amounts of heat assault the body, face, and lungs. Each breath felt like I was choking on fire, and in my first session, I actually began to panic, coughing and weeping for air. A young adult Navajo man next to me instructed me to put my head between my legs toward the earthen floor to block the the painful waves of steam.
The sweat leader was candidly praying for everyone in there, to give us strength as we faced our toxins and inner demons, allowing them to leave our forms through the act of intense perspiration and prayer. I began to feel a deep lake of calm sadness swell up inside me somewhere between poignancy and guilt which diverted my thoughts from the burning on my skin and face toward a more absolute conception of reality in which the reflex toward any pain afflicting my body shriveled and collapsed before the long history of suffering people on this planet have endured. I cannot describe the pain adequately enough because it was a complex feeling that extended beyond the physical into fluctuating emotional and spiritual dimensions and actually even to spaces in myself I have never accessed before. All I felt was pure, unfiltered sympathy. I remember one phrase distinctly; the sweat leader was sobbing effusively and saying "tame the twitching and twinkling of every little nerve, of that very vein that brings your heart its flood." His words seemed so close to the very core of it all, as if they had been manifested through some sort of collective consciousness flowing through the earth, the fire, my own body, and all the other bodies unified in the same holy moment.
I think the idea is to find some sort of spiritual calm and to transcend the physical discomfort of the sweat which requires eventually letting go of obsessive, panic-riddled thoughts that fixate on pain and suffering. Deep rhythmic chants help to deal with the intensity of the moment, and I found a great deal of comfort in doing this with others...each breath and chant seemed to be the release of an attachment that had been weighing me down. And actually after I could find a pocket of serenity in my headspace, I was overwhelmed with a warm rush of energy and pleasant feeling coursing through my veins. I began to feel really good yet still very sober as others were still weeping. It was clearly important to be absolutely reverent toward what others might be going through at all times in the ceremony. The experience was so powerful because it demonstrated the importance of healthy communal practice as a means of instilling those values into everyday life. After what seems like an eternity the sweat leader opens the entrance and everyone crawls out. I crawled out on hands and knees and collapsed by a juniper bush and lay myself in the cool dirt. I have never been so thankful for light and fresh air and the moderate environment so infinitely perfect for life that the earth gifts us all with. 95 degree Arizonian air no longer seemed hot at all, but rather the most hospitable, forgiving climate I could possibly imagine in comparison to the sweat. Everything felt overwhelmingly beautiful, every breath, everything in sight. And then I realized that the world at large always exists in this state as an entity much grander, older and more knowing than my existence and all of humanity for that matter; I only lose sight when I let attachments to ego and its myriad burdens blur out my vision. This is the struggle. To find and learn balance when one stumbles over so much imbalance in the current human condition.
In most traditions, it is required that you do at least four sweat sessions, each which lasts something like 20 minutes. Between each session you drink water and lay around cooling off, coming back into your senses for about half an hour. I really enjoyed the breaks because it gave me time to process the ceremony and hear stories that the Havusupai were sharing about their concerns of cultural assimilation, preservation of language culture and land, and other tales about lessons learned from the animal elders through oral tradition. I partook in all four sessions and then headed back to camp, deeply weary but somehow feeling fresh and anew.
II. Drawings from my First Season with AERA:
GHOST MEDICINE
GAMBLE OAK
MULE'S EAR
PENSTEMON AMBIGUUS
PENSTEMON LINARIOIDES
Above are the five illustrations that I finished over the course of the summer. Phyllis is working on a book called "The Hand that Faces the Sun" and it seems that some of my work is likely to appear in that book to provide illustrations to supplement the vast amounts of other information about native plants that Phyllis has worked on accumulating for many years. The book seems like it has several layers of significance. For one, it honors all of the teachers that Phyllis has learned from directly, and then all the teachers that taught those teachers and so on and so on. The importance of being aware of tradition and your ancestors was firmly pressed in my mind through all the teachings I learned this summer and seems to be one of many common threads woven among the different indigenous nations I worked with. Furthermore, the creation of her book plays a really important role in the preservation of a highly specific and ancient form of knowledge. Because most native traditions rely heavily on oral teaching, this book serves as a sort of bridge to help ensure that later generations will have a physical object to reference and help maintain that precious body of knowledge.
My plans from here are to continue to work with AERA, hopefully incorporating botanical illustration into my independent study in the art department for my senior year. I've heard tell of a botanical illustration program in Chapel Hill, and I think that would be the next step for continuing to sharpen my chops while also learning more about the plant world.
III. POST-DEPARTURE REFLECTIONS
I feel like my work this summer has permanently impacted my perspective and path. I came to love the communal priorities and importance of revering the natural world that imbued my experience with native american communities. The field of ethnobotany has totally pulled me into a new and exciting world of discovery and empowerment. The earth seems to provide all the food and medicine people could ever need to survive and live well. I feel a new sense of purpose that is pushing me to grow closer to the earth and to devote my life to becoming a healer for myself and others. That was another important lesson and piece of advice I received at Red Butte: I made a commitment to a Navajo medicine man to live on the right path, the healthy path and to make sure that I do all that is in my power to help those in need whenever we intersect. Never in my life have I had anything resound as loudly or pierce with as much significance. There is no alternative now to living a life with and for others since I have had my eyes and heart opened to the value and importance of community and the super-human strength that forms when many individuals come together to work as a collective whole....
Check out this GIGANTIC Saguaro! Saguaros are amazing cacti that only grow in the Sonoran desert. It takes 75 years for the stalks to even grow their first arm! Some of these plants are ancient and probably were there to see the first settlers coming west. It's mind-blowing how much they have lived through.
IV. Letter of Advice to the Next Generation of CBR-SURFERS
Dear whomever this may concern,
I would say before ever leaving, make sure you have done your research and that you have reliable contacts for the community you wish to assist and become a part of. Having a personal connection was the key that unlocked all my explorations this summer, so that seems like a vital first step.
Listen, Listen, Listen. I cannot stress enough how important it is to be aware and receptive of all the information other community members may be sending your way, especially if you are entering a community space as a new-comer. While we all might have our gifts, talents, and intentions to do well, part of working with a community involves reciprocity, meaning that you give and receive. I find this approach vital to any functional relationship, but especially to those where you are working with others who may live in a culture and social landscape vastly different from those which you are accustomed to.
Stay focused, work hard, and most importantly, follow what your heart and intuition is telling you. Find a good path to take that you truly believe in, but let the wind blow you accordingly when you land in your research setting. I wish you the best of luck and hope that you have an amazing experience to assure you that a life of community work with others is a great way to live and help affect change in our world.
-The Sun Rises in the East but Finally Settles in the West-
