Sun Dance At Big Mountain
Arthur Jacobs
Leaving
Traveling to sun dances with an Indian Holy Man for the summer will be exciting: the sights and the ceremonies I will see; the people I will meet fill me with curiosity. Leaving is easy and in the same breath it is hard. I can not have any commitments. I want to travel free, and all commitments seem to drop away.
School is over. The landlord of the house where I am renting a room wants to rent the whole house to a family. He asks me to move. My car, an old bomb, would not be a good one for traveling. When my brother-in-law helps me get a great deal on a second-hand car, I know traveling is in the picture. A good car under me will help me travel far. A free man without any commitments.
Kingfisher, the 'man/spirit' I will travel with, is one half an hour north of my Santa Rosa position. I am in a traveling mode, so I leave to pick him up without a worry. Before I am out of my hometown, the back end of the car drops and bumps along. A flat tire. Is it an omen? Omen or not, I said I would pick up my friend, so I pull into a gas station have the tire changed, and keep moving forward. I arrive at the house where Kingfisher is staying. I climb out of the car place my cane on the roof and help pack for the trip. Everyone at the house, where Kingfisher is staying, seems excited about the upcoming adventure. Brother Vernon helps pack the car and I ask him, "Would you like to come along with us?"
Two days earlier, Vernon was released from a hospital for a few stab wounds in his stomach. A child had found him lying in blood, where attackers had left him to die. The little one went and got help. Vernon realizes he has to change his ways. A spiritual journey to Arizona will be good medicine for him and will help heal his torn body. It is risky for him to leave so soon after release from the hospital. We will be traveling with a Holy Man though, so he responds to me with the question -- "when do we leave?"
I have planned a little ahead for the trip. Having already packed the car with a few comforts (Futon, pillows, etc.), and some material I can use to break away from the medicine journey (fashionable clothes, addresses of friends, etc). if I have the desire. Kingfisher, seeing these, makes more room for Vernon in the car by gladly leaving my stuff behind. He says, "Do not worry, if you give to others it will always come back to you." It looks like I can only move forward from here. The teaching is beginning and we haven't even left yet. I am learning. Learning to suffer: suffer for others, for teaching. It sounds illogical but feels like it makes sense. I am learning to trust my feelings. Things that I think are logical at one time prove later to be illogical, so I am learning to feel the sense in things.
One of Kingfisher's partners, Leonard Crow Dog, once shared some "feel through" medicine in a sweat lodge that I attended The sweat lodge is a small hut about seven feet in diameter. In the middle of the lodge is a pit dug in the ground. People sit around this pit; while red hot rocks are placed into it and everyone begins praying and sweating -- sweating out toxins that are in the body, praying for a good life, and giving thanks for everything. In the lodge, you may not know the person next to you, but wondering or thinking about who it may be only makes it seem hotter. You have to give up thoughts and just feel yourself. Thoughts only make you panic, you have to relax and just feel. When you can do that, you may feel a connection with everyone in the lodge and with everything. This is "feel through" medicine.
We are off to The Sun Dance at Big Mountain: Vernon, Kingfisher and me. In San Francisco we pick up another friend, Sigi, who loads the car with six hundred pounds of food for the native people. They have a tough time surviving on the reservation; they are not free to move around and follow free game anymore. The car weighted down with all the food, has its front grill point toward the stars. We look like we are going to do some astro traveling. Kingfisher, Vernon, and Sigi take turns driving and after ten hours it is my turn to pilot the car. It is morning before light and I am tired but proud to be in the company of such powerful people. They fall asleep and we move on.
We drive through Flagstaff on the way to DinŽ Land, on the Navaho reservation. To be in the desert mountains also makes me comfortable. Past Second Mesa, out of the Hopi reservation, on to the joint use territory -- land that is used by both the Hopi and Navaho tribes.
All land is joint use, only civilization has allowed people to own land. It is strange to me how people can own land. This is mother earth we come from and are living on. We came from the earth in the same way we came from our mother. The umbilical cord attaching us to the land has been gone a long time, longer than the cord attaching us to our mother, yet how can any one own their mother.
On the ceremonial land Indian people are checking to make sure there are no Federal Bureau of Investigation (F.B.I.) agents or other government workers getting on the land. There are people checking to make certain we are here with the right purpose in mind. That we have a genuine concern for the land and we are with someone in the ceremony. This ceremony is in memory and to honor Anna Mae Aquash. My friend Kingfisher is well known, for he dances and sacrifices himself for the people at many sun dances. We get in without a problem. It makes me realize how lucky I am to be able to travel with this man.
Arriving
We ask the guard "Where is Crow Dog camping?" and he directs us to the singers camp. Tired for we have been driving for sixteen hours, we park the car in the dark set our sleeping bags on the ground, and fall into them. The next thing we know it is morning. I go to breakfast alone, hoping to get the feel of, and to learn more respect for this natural world. I am too educated in the wrong things to feel at home here; however respect is how the natives live, and without having to ask they sit me down and feed me.
It is the fried bread Sigi brought in my car, and he is one of the main helpers in the kitchen. The kitchen is a little house made of wood, tarps, and stone. The little house blends into the landscape; everything around here is natural; the raised flat prairies merge with the deep blue sky; there is no separation; the little stone house on the mesa is as natural as the dry land. A large man is having coffee in the kitchen area. He is sitting at a long table with a few chairs around it. I pull one up, and sit down. I wish him a "good morning" and he responds in a jolly manner with the words rolling off of his lips, "Sit down my friend. Where are you from?"
Thinking that he will be impressed with the man I came with, I proudly state, "I came with Kingfisher. We have been driving for sixteen hours straight. Do you know him? Hmmm. . . But originally I'm from New York."
"The Big Apple. So you're from Thoity-Thoid and Thoid," he says chuckling.
"Yeh, that's the place." I say laughing at his exaggerated Bronx accent.
It feels good to be in Arizona, the air is clean and the people at this ceremony are grateful for everything. They certainly want to make everyone feel at home. I finish my coffee and walk in the temperate dry air to Leonard Crow Dog's camp.
Brad, one of Leonard Crow Dog's helpers, sees me and grinning calls, "See Through!" I met Brad with Crow Dog the time at the sweat. At that ceremony I got to know Brad because Crow Dog let me stay in the house with his family. "Leonard will be glad you are here."
In that sweat ceremony where Crow Dog used the feel through medicine, he was calling me "See Through" and that made us all laugh. Laughter is good medicine. "See Through," that's a fun one. If I could see through anything I might learn how this world works, and if I knew how this world worked, the name See Through wouldn't make us laugh so much, but then again, maybe it would.
Brad and I walk to the arbor where the dancers are dancing. They have been dancing since dawn. They greeted the sun, dancing in honor of it and Mother Earth, and for many other reasons. Brad leads me to about ten people singing and drumming around a big kettle drum. Crow Dog is there drumming and singing. The energy that is being expressed from the singers mouths and bodies is intense. It helps the dancers focus their energy and keep moving. Crow Dog is happy to see me. He sits me down and hands me a drum stick. Drumming and singing for the dancers, while they are moving in an ancient way, is powerful. It makes one feel as old as the ground one is sitting on. It connects one with past times. A time when "time" was not time, it just was. A time before people desired separation between themselves and nature, when people were only in awe of natures creation; not feeling on a different level putting themselves outside of it. The whole sun dance land, with the respect that the people give everything, feels like the "Garden of Eden." What beauty! What power! What love! The whole continent was once like this.
After drumming and singing a few songs I go to find Jackey. She is the partner of my friend Mark Jones who is dancing. She seems thrilled to see me and says "Mark and I didn't think we'd see you out here. This is great! Here you can dance to help support Mark, right here beside me."
"This is too much." I reply. "I was not sure how or if, I was going to get here. Yet things changed quickly and here I am. Able to dance beside you!"
Into the day, in the sun we dance. The power around the arbor is so strong that one does not feel hot or tired in the July-Arizona sun. We just dance, driven by the drum, in celebration of life.
That evening, after being allowed to eat with the singers, I feel free, like a bird soaring in the clear sky. After dinner I head off on the mesa to find a sweat lodge. I find one and we finish four rounds; every round the door is opened and more red hot rocks are brought in the sweat. Some of us remain in the lodge praying and pouring more water on the rocks for a cooling off round. When we all crawl out I feel tired yet refreshed, and drawn to another sweat lodge. I feel the need to sweat more for the brothers that are dancing. The door keeper of this lodge says, "They have just closed the lodge." Disappointment enters me. I know that once a ceremony is started they usually will not let anyone interrupt it.
"But I will ask the leader if you can go in." She opens the flap a little and then explains my desire to the leader. She opens the flap wide and says, "It is all right for you to join the ceremony." My body, my mind, and my spirit are flying from the last sweat, and now another one. Two at Big Mountain; I feel like I have been given a great gift.
I crawl through the door of the lodge and am directed in the pitch darkness to a place around the pit. The leader of the ceremony asks the people in the lodge to "make room for the brother (me) who has traveled a long way and has driven straight for a day."
Dumbfound I wonder, "How does this guy know that." I justify it to myself by figuring, "Well, I guess everyone has been traveling in one way or another for a day, and all the rest of their days for that matter. So he could be safe in saying that about anyone."
Then the leader of the lodge says "Make room for him, he is a good man and has brought a good man who dances for the people all over. He also needs us to pray for his leg."
"How could he know who I came with?" I think again. "No one except Jackey knows I came with Kingfisher, I did not even tell Crow Dog, and how does he know about my leg? I have heard rumors about magic, but. . .?" My mind does not even attempt to figure it out; after that last sweat it would be hopeless to try and analyze. "It is time to relax and feel through," I tell myself.
"He is from Thoidy-Thoid and Thoid," he says in a Bronx accent, and chuckles.
Ah-ha, now I understand, he is the man I met this morning. This is going to be a good sweat. Magic or not, this whole journey through life is magic, and everyone knows it at Big Mountain; they appreciate the magic everywhere. We step out into the darkness after a long sweat ceremony. I slip into my clothes and start walking toward my camp. Walking on the sandy dirt under the stars feels safe. Tranquility beyond security, is everywhere. I am carefree, yet careful not to walk on any cacti. My spirit is flying and I feel like I could walk forever or just flap my arms and circle the stars. The stars go from one end of the horizon to the other, in between the stars is a hazy dark blue color, which has enough moonlight in it to allow one to see where one is going. Arriving back at the camp I fall on the ground to rest, but before I know it the hazy blue sky is turning yellowish red in the east. Drumming is echoing from the arbor and people are beginning to move. The dancing is again beginning to welcome, to thank, and to greet the sun.
Without getting any sleep, it is time to go to the arbor and dance with (for) the people. Without sleep, yet energized by the music, I appear at the dance arbor. The dancers come out of their camp which is part of the arbor. They come out slowly. They have not eaten or slept and though they walk slowly, the determined strength with which they move makes one realize that it is the spirit that is dancing in this arbor; it is this spirit that keeps Native people moving. It is what keeps all people moving. The dancers are on a spiritual plane connecting them to their ancestors, the great spirit, and Mother Earth. They have left this physical world temporarily. They do not leave the arbor for four straight days - for these four days they are in the spirit world. They walk into the dance arbor in colorful skirts, with two eagle feathers attached to their heads, towering above their long dark hair, and they blow on eagle bone whistles. They sound and look as if they are from another world. All forty dancers are breathing in unison; with every breath out, the whistle screams. EEEEEAAAHHH!!! All the dancers are connected as if they have one body. EEEEEAAAHHH!!! When all the dancers are in the arbor Crow Dog begins drumming. EEEEEAAAHHH!!! The arbor is coming alive with the sun that is rising. EEEEE-AAAHHH!!!
The magic is everywhere.
Witnessing
The dancers spirits welcome the sun that warms them and everything else. The energy around the arbor is intense -- everyone begins dancing. Arriving at the edge of the arbor and dancing I project all of my energy to help the people in the arbor, not quite sure how it can help them, but realizing intent is important and I intend to help. My body moves in time with the rhythm from the drums, my lame leg not slowing me. We dance all day in the sun. I can not imagine what the dancers must feel like, but it is not a thing for me to imagine. They are on another plane not having eaten, been deprived of sleep and dancing in one hundred degree plus temperatures. Still dancing, we push on driven by unseen forces.
Crow Dog's circle of drummers, drumming with their heart and soul give all their strength to the dancers. They call and thank nature and the spirit for giving us the strength to continue. During the dance, as if in response to our thanks, the wind picks up blowing gusts up to 50 m.p.h. It cools us all down. "Is this just chance?" I wonder, yet feeling at the same time, that it is not.
I am dancing, thankful for the wind that cools us down, the sun that heats us up, and the earth that unquestioningly supports us. As if in a dream, a feather similar to the ones on the dancers heads suddenly starts moving beside me, in time to my dancing. It is in my hand! Crow Dog is standing beside me and he has placed the feather there. An eagle feather from a sun dance medicine man. It gives me more energy, to dance with, and to give to the dancers.
What an honor to be given an eagle feather. The power I feel coming from this ceremony is embodied in the feather. It has soared over the mountains on a bald eagle; it has been over more of the world than I will ever see. This feather is from the natural world, where every "thing" is made by God. These natural things are powerful in their own right; they are not manmade they are made by the great spirit.
I am told by elders to be careful with the feather, to take care of it, for it is, and represents the natural world. "The spirit is in the feather as much as in everything else, so treat the feather with the respect you have when you hold a baby."
I feel I cannot put the feather down and be away from it. I would never leave a baby. I attach a few other feathers that people have given me in the past to the stem of this eagle feather and carry them all around, everywhere I go. Dancing the next day I am carrying the feathers, proud of all of them. Letting the energy of all the people who have handled these feathers transcend and help the dancers.
An opportunity arises where people who are dancing outside the arbor (this means me), can shake hands with one of the dancers in the arbor and in effect reach across into the spirit world. I jump at the chance; still dancing I move on over. I reach across and shake a dancers hand. Smiling, this man (spirit) with painted face and eagle feather headdress gestures with his other hand that I should give him what I am carrying. My feathers! Not only the ones that I have taken care of for a long time but my brand new sacred eagle feather also! Well if the spirits want them, what can I do? I should be happy and honored. I hand them over.
Later I find out that the reason people go in the arbor is not only to shake hands with the spirit but also to sacrifice something, to give a gift to the tree. The tree is a main part of the dance. It is in the middle of the arbor and has just recently been cut down so there are still green leaves growing off of it. The tree is a sacrifice from mother earth.
Attached to the tree (before it is inserted in the ground so it stands vertical in the middle of the arbor) are long cords that hang almost reaching the ground. These cords will be used by the dancers when they make their sacrifice to mother earth and the great spirit. This gift to the tree (my feathers) is one way the people supporting the dancers can give a physical offering as a sacrifice in the ceremony. I feel dumb for "losing" my feathers, but satisfied that they went to a good place, on the tree as my sacrifice in support of the people. Shocked and bewildered at how fast things happen, I keep dancing sacrificing my energy for my brothers.
During the dance the brothers use everything: the sacred cords that come from the tree, the tree itself, and the energy in the arbor. They use all of them to make a sacrifice that comes from their heart and one they will always remember. The tree is part of Mother Earth and is coming from the Mother, buried deep inside of her. The cords that are attached to the tree are like her umbilical cord. In gratitude to the dancers mother, Mother Earth, and the great spirit, which all work together to form life, the dancers attach themselves physically to Mother Earth. Surgically they have the cords attached to their chest. Physically and spiritually they are in another world and they shed blood in gratitude. In gratitude for the blood shed by their Mother when they were born, and the "blood" that is being shed by Mother Earth every day, in the form of pollution, mining, etc. They bleed to always remind themselves of the miracle of birth. After being surgically, and spiritually reattached to their symbolic umbilical cord, they dance backwards all the time praying, tightening and pulling on the cord until it tears out of their chest. This act physically and spiritually reminds them what a miracle their Mother went through creating their life. This is a real offering, it is not symbolic. It keeps native people close to the land.
Sacrificing
It is time for my friend Kingfisher (the man/spirit) to sacrifice himself for all of us. This man/spirit knows Crow Dog from a time when they were doing some work in South Dakota and from praying around the country at different sun dances. Kingfisher dances up to the tree slowly and prays with his body, mind, and spirit. All the dancers are around the tree praying and also giving their strength to Kingfisher. Crow Dog appears in the arbor. He can cross into the spirit world anytime at the dance. His intent is good, and therefore he is never too far from the spirit world. Crow Dog walks up to my friend and while he is still standing, with surgical skill he operates on him and reattaches Kingfisher to the symbolic umbilical cord. For an instant during the placement of the cord to his chest, Kingfisher's knees buckle, but he stands firm; he has a strong spirit. He moves away from the tree dancing. He is to keep the cord on for the remaining days and nights of the dance. The other dancers can slip their cords off the wood inserted in their chest and go into another part of the arbor at night where there are sweat lodges, but a few other men want to do it in more of the traditional, oldest way. Kingfisher's tribe, the Cheyenne people, in the old days used to stake themselves to a tree in the forest alone and pray that way for four days.
On the edge of the arbor we dance, giving our energy to the men/spirits and women/spirits in the arbor. About thirty strong women are also dancing in the arbor; they do not pierce however, for they bleed for life every new moon and nothing can compare to their giving birth. They are all dancing, giving thanks from their heart. The next few days and nights there is drumming. The drumming at night is to help and give strength to the dancers who are pierced and remain attached to the tree.
Kingfisher had told me "In daily life we automatically help our brothers and sisters, if we can. If we see that someone needs anything, if it is possible we get it to them, without question. This is not a sacrifice, it is how it is - one is to help their Brothers and Sisters! When we want to sacrifice something, to show appreciation, to give thanks for all that we have, and all the spirit has given us, we cannot simply help someone or give something as a sacrifice. As a true sacrifice to the spirit we give ourselves."
Out in the arbor with eagle feather headdress, blowing on the whistle with every breath, dancing, giving all his energy to help people, himself and Mother Earth, Kingfisher dances attached and getting strength from the Mother. All night he remains praying while he is physically connected to the earth. The drummers and singers reflect and transmit all of their energy to the men who are attached to the tree and connected to the earth in this good way. They sing and drum through out the night giving all their energy to help the men on the tree. The arbor is cooler at night, yet the energy of the praying people light it up as if the sun were still shining. It is powerful just being in the presence of such humility and respect for life. It makes one humble, and puts one in awe allowing one to easily appreciate the miracle everywhere on this land, earth.
In the desert mesa of Arizona with its flat dried beauty, wind gnarled trees, and hot wind, time loses all meaning, and before I know it the day has arrived when Kingfisher will break off the umbilical cord and learn once again to walk free with his creator. We are all dancing and praying in support of him.
Kingfisher backs up from the tree to the end of the cord; praying, he returns to the tree and hugs it like a little child hugs his mother, receiving strength from her and full of appreciation. This man full of the spirit dances from the tree. The drummers all in unison give out a beat of quick strength on the drum; blowing on his whistle with his headdress high Kingfisher dances backwards with energy that will separate him from his mother and free himself from the tree. He dances with enough force to tear the cord from his chest. It is time to be born into this physical world again. He reaches the end, but the cord remains attached to his chest, tightens and rebounds the man/spirit forward. He is pulled by the tension from the cord. His skin will not break; it has healed in the days he has been so close to his Mother, Earth. He tries again but can not break free. He is pierced deep, no wonder his knees buckled when Crow Dog pierced him. His spirit is strong and he keeps trying, to no avail. In response to his effort, two other dancers take Kingfisher's arms and together they move like one strong spirit. All three men, blowing eagle bone whistles, wearing long feathered headdresses, and wearing colorful skirts run backward, separating Kingfisher from the tree. He finds out what it is like to give birth. To give birth to himself.
Living and Remembering
The rest of the dancers, one by one, break from the tree. After Mark breaks from the tree with unquestionable strength, he walks by where Jackey stands, he leans towards her and says, "Happy Birthday!" Today is Jackey's birthday and he remembered, after praying, fasting and piercing. Jackey stands in the Arizona sun smiling with sun red cheeks, tears welling up in her eyes.
All the dancers finish piercing and come out of the arbor for the feast relatives have been preparing for days. Kingfisher comes out happy and smiling like an elf, to long tables of food. He is still on another plane, not having grounded himself yet. It always has been hard for me to communicate with him because we come from different worlds, mine the New York suburbs and his a reservation in Montana, but now no words need to be said. We communicate by just being together. The feeling is one of peace, love, and respect. Everyone wants to help the dancers who have sacrificed not only their thoughts, prayers, and energy, but also themselves. Kingfisher's new wounds have been taken care of with cotton bandages and he is grinning with every morsel of food he puts into his mouth.
That evening I go to Mark's camp and have coffee beside the fire. I recite to him the story about my feathers. I am proud of being given an eagle feather from Crow Dog, yet feel stupid for going out into the arbor of a sacred ceremony, not sure of my purpose, and "losing" them. Around the fire a few sun dancers listen to my tale and one of them comes up to me and says: "You are supposed to have that feather. Tomorrow I will see if I can get it from the tree for you, but first I have to ask the elders and see if it is the right thing to do. That feather is powerful not only was it given to you from a powerful man at a sun dance, but now it has been tied to the tree in the arbor were all those strong prayers were made. Take care of it."
"Thank you, that is great. I will take care of it. During the ceremony I was sort of on another plane. Things just kind of happened. I did not know when I went into the arbor that I would be giving my feathers away. I thought I would just shake the man's hand in the arbor, then he beckoned for my feathers."
"Well don't worry. It is good you gave them to him."
I felt relieved, like I had done the right thing. I was enjoying myself immensely when what Kingfisher had told me earlier, came to my mind. He had said that after the ceremonies he likes to take 'disappearing medicine,' so we should be ready to leave right away. Remembering this, I go to my camp and crawl under the blankets so I will be ready to travel as soon as I get up. Rushing around the next morning, saying "goodbye" to everyone, I go to Mark's camp and say "I'll see you at home and where is the man's camp who offered to help me get the feathers back from the tree?" Mark points in the general direction and I walk over there. The Sundancer sees me and comes up to me.
He says, "I went to the elders and they told me to leave the feathers on the tree. The elders said They went there for a reason." The dancer said, "feel good about it. The feather came to you for a reason and then went to the tree for a reason, so your sacrifice is on the tree."
I was praying that the feathers would go where they belonged and was hoping that I would get them back, but the effort the dancer put out to try and get them was good. I was satisfied.
"Wait right here" the dancer tells me and goes into his tent. After a few minutes he reappears and hands me a beautiful spotted feather. He says "this is a spotted eagle feather; I just took it out of the wing I carried in the dance. It has a lot of power."
Two eagle feathers came to me in three days. What powerful gifts. I am flying! Slowly, glowing with joy for being able to be part of this miracle of creation, I walk back to the car. I feel like this land is literally the Garden of Eden, and wonder why people do not make everyday a ceremony to remind themselves of the miracle everywhere.
The drive home is fast. Comfortably, I sleep on the floor of the car for ten hours. When I do 'wake up' I think about the whole journey. It was a time that I was allowed into another world. I have been given a gift: full awareness of the miracle everywhere. It feels like this gift is not temporary, but an intimate one. One that will be with me as long as I live.