Chief Arvol Looking Horse Calls for Unity

All Nations, All Faiths, One Prayer: Chief Arvol Looking Horse, 19th Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe, calls on people from around the globe to gather at sacred places on June 21 and join in prayer for the healing and protection of Grandmother Earth.
 

June 21, 2022
 

We warned that one day you would not be able to control what you have created, that day is here. Now we must unite once again to create an energy shift upon Grandmother Earth. She cannot take any more impact from all the selfish decisions being made.
 

We have come to that place in this time upon Earth, to now make a stand together. To unite -- each in our own sacred life-ways we have chosen to walk, whatever religion or belief, go to your sacred spaces and join us in these special prayers for the Earth on June 21st. It has been proven we can create miracles when we unite spiritually.
 

Many white animals have shown their sacred color throughout the world now, and they continue to communicate that we are at the crossroads. We have walked through two years of losing many relatives through a terrible disease, and so have the animals and plant life also continue to suffer. The imbalance of Mni wic'oni (water of life) causing droughts and fires to severe flooding is everywhere, and I feel more suffering is to come from all these poor choices that are being made.
 

I humbly request a time from each of the two legged in this world to send a prayer to heal our precious Earth and the balance of Mni wic'oni to be restored. Begin to prepare in your homelands to unite -- All Nations, All Faiths, One Prayer -- for the sake of Grandmother Earth, our source of life not a resource.
 

In a sacred hoop of life where there is no ending in no beginning.
Chief Arvol Looking Horse
19th Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe

 

Source: Last Real Indians

The Importance of Corn Deities

First grown in Mexico some 5,000 years ago, corn soon became the most important food crop in North and Central America. Throughout the region, Puebloans, Mayans, Aztecs, and other Indigenous peoples worshiped corn deities and developed a variety of myths about the origin, planting, growing, and harvesting of corn, also known as maize. Secular and ceremonial life centered around the growing cycle of corn. Corn became an archetype planted in our collective unconscious.  
 

In the process of writing my spiritual memoir, Riding Spirit Horse, I discovered a recurring theme. One motif that keeps repeating itself in my shamanic journey and trance experiences is that of corn. On my first shamanic journey into the spirit world in 1988, I met a spirit guide who became my lifelong mentor in the ways of the spirit world. Known as Corn Woman or Corn Mother, she is an important deity archetype in Pueblo mythology. She represents fertility, life and the feminine aspects of this world.
 
The importance of corn deities in Pueblo mythology reflects the importance of corn in the Pueblo diet. Each pueblo performs a ritual Corn Dance to honor Corn Woman and pray for rain, growth and fertility. A drummer and a chorus of chanting men support the lines of colorful dancers who move in a continually changing zigzag pattern. The graceful dancers turn and pause, then turn again, creating a sweep of movement that ripples through the line like a breath of wind through stalks of ripening corn. The dancers make gestures to indicate their requests to Corn Woman: lowering the arms depicts the lowering clouds, moving the arms in a zigzag motion denotes lightning, lowering the palms signifies rain, and lifting the hands symbolizes the growing stalks of corn. It is a dance that evokes the timeless Pueblo way of being.
 
On my first pilgrimage to the Maya pyramids and ceremonial centers of Mexico in 1995, I had a vision of the Maize God, giving me insight into the mystery of death and rebirth. The Maya Maize God is a mythical dying-and-reviving god who was killed by the Lords of the Underworld, brought back to life by his sons, the Hero Twins, and emerged from the Underworld as corn. For horticultural societies like the Mayans and Puebloans, maize is the substance of life. Its growing cycle is a metaphor for the death, burial and rebirth of humans. When the corn seed from the harvest is blessed and interred in the earth, it is as though a dead human is buried. The embryonic seed germinates in the dark, moist earth and begins to grow. The corn plant turns its leaves toward the light of the sun, growing taller and taller. At the end of the season, when the corn cobs are fully ripe, it is as if the dead person surfaces to join the living. Just as darkness gives rise to light, so life grows from death.

Kamloops Indian Residential School

A haunting image of red dresses hung on crosses along a roadside, with a rainbow in the background, commemorating children who died at a residential school created to assimilate Indigenous children in Canada won the prestigious World Press Photo award on April 7. The image was one of a series of the Kamloops Indian Residential School shot by Canadian photographer Amber Bracken for The New York Times. 
 

It was not the first recognition for Bracken's work in the Amsterdam-based competition. She won first prize in the contest's Contemporary Issues category in 2017 for images of protesters at the Dakota Access Pipeline in North Dakota.
 

Her latest win came less than a week after Pope Francis made a historic apology to Indigenous peoples for the "deplorable" abuses they suffered in Canada's Catholic-run residential schools and begged for forgiveness.
 

Last May, the Tk'emlups te Secwepemc Nation announced the discovery of 215 unmarked graves near Kamloops, British Columbia. Established in 1890, it was Canada's largest Indigenous residential school and the discovery of the graves was the first of numerous, similar grim sites across the country.
 

"So we started to have, I suppose, a personification of some of the children that went to these schools that didn't come home," Bracken said in comments released by contest organizers. "There's also these little crosses by the highway. And I knew right away that I wanted to photograph the line of these crosses with these little children's clothes hanging on them to commemorate and to honor those kids and to make them visible in a way that they hadn't been for a long time."

 

Source: World Press Photo

Storytellers and Drums

An excerpt from my new memoir, Riding Spirit Horse: A Journey into Shamanism.
 

In the fall of 1991, my wife, Elisia, and I decided to travel for several months visiting bookstores and promoting my first book, The Shamanic Drum. At the time we were living in Bend, Oregon. We put our personal belongings into storage and ventured south through California and the Desert Southwest. We visited national parks and the Pueblo villages of Zuni, Acoma and Laguna.
 
After departing Laguna, we visited friends in Albuquerque. We spent the night in Albuquerque and then headed north to Santa Fe. We stopped at Cochiti Pueblo along the way. Cochiti Pueblo is renowned for its deep-toned ceremonial drums. Cochiti drums are crafted from hollowed logs, usually aspen or cottonwood--trees native to the high desert climate. Wet cowhide is stretched across the hollowed log and fastened with rawhide lacing. Different cowhides create different tones, and experienced Cochiti drum makers know the characteristic sounds of different skin types. Drums may also feature traditional artwork on the rawhide drum heads.
 
We arrived in Cochiti on a Sunday and roamed the sun baked streets of the ancient adobe pueblo looking for drum makers, but none were open for business. We circled the great round kiva that stood at the heart of the village and then spotted a hand painted sign in front of an adobe home: "Storytellers Here." A storyteller doll is a clay figurine made by the Pueblo people of New Mexico. The first contemporary storyteller was made by Helen Cordero of the Cochiti Pueblo in 1964 in honor of her grandfather Santiago Quintana, who was a tribal storyteller. It looks like a figure of a storyteller, usually a man or a woman, and its mouth is always open. It is surrounded by figures of children or animals, who represent those who are listening to the storyteller.
 
We parked in front of the house and knocked on the door. A smiling middle-aged man opened the door and invited us into his home. He invited us to sit down on comfortable armchairs in the living room and asked if we would like to see some of his daughter's storytellers. We nodded our heads, and he called out to his daughter to bring out her pottery. A dark-skinned, beautiful young woman entered the room with some of her exquisite hand painted figurines. Elisia purchased one of the storytellers and thanked them for their hospitality. The Cochiti people are known for their hospitality and friendship towards visitors who are welcomed to many of the annual ceremonies. I asked them if they knew of any drum makers open for business. The man shook his head no and suggested that we visit the Palace of the Governors in Santa Fe where Pueblo artisans sell their wares.
 
We headed north to Santa Fe and made our way to the Palace of the Governors. The Palace of the Governors is an adobe structure located on Palace Avenue on the Plaza of Santa Fe in the historic district. It served as the seat of government for the state of New Mexico for centuries and is the oldest continuously occupied public building in the United States. Pueblo artisans display their handmade wares on blankets under the portal of the Palace of the Governors. We strolled the plaza and admired the fine work of the artisans, which included pottery, textiles and jewelry made of traditional materials such as turquoise, coral and silver. At last we came upon what I had been searching for: Cochiti drums. Renowned Cochiti drum maker Gilbert Herrera sat on a folding camp chair with his drums displayed on a colorful blanket. Gilbert, a fourth generation drum maker, learned the craft from his father, Redbird. I purchased a log drum with a deep resonant tone and complimented Gilbert on his fine craftsmanship.
 
From Santa Fe, we drove to Taos and visited the famed Taos Drum Company. The owner gave us a tour of the large drum making facility. I left a copy of my book with the owner. We then visited the shop of resident artist and third generation drum maker Frank Mirabal in Taos Pueblo. Mirabal, a Taos Pueblo Indian, followed the example of his father and grandfather and became a drum maker. He acquires and processes the hides: deer, elk, buffalo, horse and cow. The frame of each drum is made from a hand-hollowed log of aspen or cottonwood: trees from his area that will not dry and crack easily. The pitch of the drum depends on the diameter and the depth of the drum.
 
We purchased three of Mirabal's beautiful log drums, one of which was later gifted to Wallace Black Elk, a traditional Lakota elder and spiritual interpreter. Born and raised on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota, Wallace was one of the original spiritual advisors to the American Indian Movement, a grassroots organization formed to address issues of poverty and police brutality against Native people. He was present at the occupation of Wounded Knee and was instrumental in the passage of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act in 1978.

Joseph Rael's Sound Peace Chambers

Joseph Rael, whose Tiwa name, Tsluu teh koy ay, given to him as a child at Picuris Pueblo, means "Beautiful Painted Arrow," is widely regarded as one of the great Native American holy men of our time. He was born in 1935 on the Southern Ute reservation to a chief's granddaughter and a Tiwa-speaking Picuris native. At about age 7, shortly before his mother's death, he went to live in Picuris near Taos, NM, where his visionary powers were developed until, at about age 12, he began to assist the village holy man in curing practices.
 

He was educated both at Santa Fe Indian school and public high school before getting a BA in political science from the University of New Mexico and an MA from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. For a number of years he worked in various capacities in Indian health and social services in both New Mexico and Colorado.
 

At age 45 he quit his social services job to devote full time to teaching and following his visions wherever they might lead. In 1983 Joseph had the vision to build a Sound Peace chamber, a kiva-like structure where people of all races might gather to chant and sing for world peace and to purify the earth and oceans. He built the first such chamber at his then-home, a trailer park in Bernalillo, NM, and shortly like-minded people began to build Sound Peace chambers in other locations.
 

At present, Sound Peace chambers have been built around the globe. Writes Joseph, "My vision is that through sound we will bring about peace and other important vibrations. Sound can teach us a way to create without destruction." Meanwhile, Joseph began leading ceremonial dances, based on his visions, with participants from all races and nationalities. "When you dance you are expanding the vibrations of insight and manifestation," he writes. "I created three dances -- the long dance, the sun-moon dances and the drum dance -- for these spiritual gifts."
 

Joseph teaches that "Every dance, every ceremony, is both for you and for the cosmos." In 1999, Joseph retired from active leadership of the dances he had begun, turning them over to a new generation of his students. Joseph Rael is the author of a number of books, including Being and Vibration, Sound: Native Teachings and Visionary Art and his autobiography, House of Shattering Light. He is also an artist. His paintings, like his ceremonies and teachings, are based on his visions. They have been called "portal" art, because they open a doorway into alternate dimensions of reality. As a Native American elder, Joseph Rael has spoken before the United Nations and addressed a conference of military officers at the Pentagon on the role of the warrior in the modern world.

"The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity"

The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity is a landmark new book by British archaeologist David Wengrow and the late anthropologist David Graeber, who was a London-based author, anarchist activist and professor of anthropology at the London School of Economics. Graeber was the author of Debt: The First 5,000 Years and Bullshit Jobs: A Theory, and was a contributor to Harper's Magazine, The Guardian, and The Baffler. An iconic thinker and renowned activist, Graeber was a leading figure in the Occupy Wall Street movement, and is sometimes credited with having coined the slogan, "We are the 99 percent."

The Dawn of Everything offers a dramatically new understanding of human history, challenging our most fundamental assumptions about social evolution -- from the development of agriculture and cities to the origins of the state, democracy, and inequality -- and revealing new possibilities for human emancipation. In its early chapters, the book proposes that the European Age of Enlightenment in the 17th and 18th centuries was actually, in great measure, a response to the Indigenous philosophies that Colonists and Imperialists had come into contact with in the New World of North America. Ideas of freedom, equality, and democracy did not exist in Medieval Europe. Ever since then, the Western mind has been moving closer, in these areas, to Native American views. As the authors point out, our ideas about human freedom, democracy, and sexual equality are much closer to that of an Indigenous person of the 16th Century than they are to the European Catholic view.

One of the main propositions that Graeber and Wengrow put forth in The Dawn of Everything is that the ancestors of our prehistory were not simple, ignorant savages, but rather self-conscious, idiosyncratic social organizers, evolving through a "carnival parade of political forms." Today we might use words like anarchist, communist, authoritarian, or egalitarian to describe their activity, but that language fails to represent the sheer quirkiness of the actual case studies: large cities without central authorities or farming (Göbekli Tepe), tribal nations spanning entire continents (Cahokia), and social housing projects (Teotihuacan).

 

Some populations would even alternate their social systems on a seasonal basis. For example, the Plains tribes of North America formed into an organized political community under one government during the seasonal bison hunt. There was a police force and squads of warriors with full coercive powers. If anyone endangered the success of the hunt, they could be punished, imprisoned, or even killed. The people who occupied those enforcement roles rotated from year to year. These coercive institutions did not last beyond the period of the hunting and ritual Sundance season. During the rest of the year, these Plains societies would split off into smaller groups which had entirely different social systems where people would have to resolve disputes through processes of deliberation and debate.

 

For 40,000 years, people have been moving between various forms of equal and unequal social structures, building up hierarchies and then dismantling them. The authors make the case that, rather than being less politically self-conscious than people nowadays, people in stateless societies were considerably more so. How did we get stuck?

One of the key arguments of the book is its stance against a reductionist view of our current circumstances: its insistence that the first 300,000 years of human history offer a past that is more varied, hopeful and altogether more interesting than what we have interpreted it to be, and that the same might be true of our future. Our species has been creating new ways of living in all the diverse ecosystems on this planet for hundreds of thousands of years. The Dawn of Everything fundamentally transforms our understanding of the human past and offers a path toward imagining new forms of freedom, new ways of organizing society. We have the freedom to create new and different forms of social reality, so why not exercise it. We have done all this before. We can do it again. The book's optimism, in the face of impending climate doom, political polarization, and social upheaval, is itself a provocation to act.

Walking the Red Road

In John G. Neihardt’s book, Black Elk Speaks, Oglala Lakota holy man and visionary Nicholas Black Elk shares a great vision which came to him in the summer when he was nine years old and which guided him throughout his life. That vision was extremely rich in detail and symbolism, all of which became important to him in the years ahead, but one image which was revealed to him in his vision and informs the entire book is the image of two spiritual paths: the Red Road and the Black Road.
 

The Red Road or Chanku Luta, as it is known by the Lakota, is a metaphor for living a spiritual way of life. It is a unique spiritual path that runs north and south. The Red Road is a way of life and enlightenment which has no end. This road is described as narrow, winding and difficult to follow. During times of difficulty, the Lakota people could always rely upon the Red Road for strength and renewal, just as they could rely upon the Inipi, also known as the sweat lodge ceremony.
 

There is also a fearful black road of troubles and of war, which contrasts with a good red road of spiritual understanding. The Black Road or Chanku Sapa, which runs east and west, is a path of non-spirituality and self-centered greed. The two roads are said to cross in the center of the sacred hoop of the world, where the Tree of Life blooms. Walking the Red Road is a deep sense of obligation and a meaningful personal commitment to purposefully live your life each day, practicing and embodying the seven sacred virtues of the Lakota: prayer, honesty, humility, compassion, respect, generosity and wisdom.

Remembering AIM Co-Founder Clyde Bellecourt

A few days ago, we lost an icon of our time. Clyde Howard Bellecourt (May 8, 1936 – January 11, 2022) was a Native American civil rights organizer. An Anishinaabe activist from the White Earth Reservation, he co-founded the American Indian Movement (AIM) in Minneapolis in 1968 with Dennis Banks, Eddie Benton-Banai and George Mitchell. For years, Bellecourt worked to address issues of poverty and police brutality against Native people. He remained active throughout his long life, eventually becoming a strong advocate for eliminating offensive sports mascots. His Anishinaabe name, Nee-gon-we-way-we-dun, means "Thunder Before the Storm."

Under Bellecourt's leadership, AIM raised awareness of tribal issues related to the federal government, monitored police harassment in Minneapolis, created welfare programs for urban Indians, and founded Indian "survival schools" in the Twin Cities to teach children life skills and to help them learn their traditional cultures. He initiated the Trail of Broken Treaties, a long march to Washington, D.C., in 1972 to serve as a first step to renegotiating federal-tribal nations' treaties and relations. In addition, he founded non-profit groups to undertake economic development to benefit Native Americans.

He became a negotiator at the occupation of Wounded Knee on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, the site of an infamous 1890 massacre of more than 300 Lakota by the U.S. Cavalry. The Wounded Knee Occupation began on February 27, 1973 when about 200 Oglala Lakota and followers of AIM seized and occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota. The occupation lasted for a total of 71 days, during which time two Lakota men were shot to death by federal agents and several more were wounded. It was a key moment in the struggle for Native American rights.

In 1993, Bellecourt and others led protests against police brutality in Minneapolis when two intoxicated Native men were driven to the hospital in the trunk of a squad car. Bellecourt continued to direct national and international AIM activities. He coordinated the National Coalition on Racism in Sports and the Media, which has long protested sports teams use of Native American mascots and names, urging them to end such practices; the Washington Redskins finally dropped their mascot in 2020 in response to years of protests. He also led Heart of the Earth, Inc., an interpretive center located behind the site of AIM's former "survival school," which operated from 1972 to 2008 in Minneapolis.

Bellecourt died of cancer on January 11, 2022, at the age of 85. At the time of his death, Bellecourt was the last surviving co-founder of the American Indian Movement. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz stated, "Clyde Bellecourt sparked a movement in Minneapolis that spread worldwide. His fight for justice and fairness leaves behind a powerful legacy that will continue to inspire people across our state and nation for generations to come." According to Minnesota Lt. Governor Peggy Flanagan, Bellecourt was a "civil rights leader who fought for more than a half-century on behalf of Indigenous people in Minnesota and around the world. Indian Country benefited from Clyde Bellecourt's activism."

Native American Gourd Rattles

Native American artisans have long utilized gourds to make many items, including utensils, serving bowls and rattles. The gourd rattle represents the three kingdoms in Native American culture, with the animal kingdom represented by feathers, the mineral kingdom represented by rocks inside the rattle, and the plant kingdom represented by the gourd itself. Music, many Native people believe, is a vessel used to transform ourselves into spiritual beings capable of healing ourselves and others through the transfer of energy, and these rattles are commonly used during ceremonies of song and dance. The following are some examples of gourd rattles crafted by Native Americans:
 

The Kachina Rattle
 

The gourd rattle used by the Hopi Katsinam (spirit messengers) is highly symbolic. Often only painted light blue with little decoration, this special instrument is used in Kachina dance and ceremony, and also as a gift given to children during their initiation ceremonies into the Kachina Society. The rattle is constructed of a flattened gourd, which represents the earth, and the handle represents the axis of the Hero Twins, iconic figures of ancient Hopi lore who help keep the earth spinning.
 

The Peyote Rattle
 

The Peyote rattle (pictured above) was frequently used during Native American church ceremonies, and was an important element of the Half Moon ceremony. A community elder is in charge of leading this ceremony, which involves the ingestion of dried peyote, a hallucinogenic cactus that was believed to induce visions. This rattle was also constructed from a spherical gourd shape and filled with nut or seed.
 

The Iroquois Rattle
 

According to the Iroquois or "people of the longhouse," the gourd rattle is the sound of Creation. The Iroquoian creation stories tell of the first sound, a shimmering sound, which went out in all directions; this was the sound of "the Creator's thoughts." The seeds of the gourd rattle embody the voice of the Creator, since they are the source of newly created life. The seeds within the rattle scatter the illusions of the conscious mind, planting seeds of pure and clear mind.
 

The Shaman's Rattle
 

The shaman's rattle is used to invoke the assistance of power animals and helping spirits. It is also possible to direct energy with rattles, much like a magician with a magic wand. Healing energy can be mentally transmitted through the rattle and out into the environment or into a patient's body. Prayer and intention can be broadcast to the spirit world. Moreover, you can create sacred space by describing a circle with the rattle while shaking it.

Joy Harjo: "I Pray for My Enemies"

In her first new recording in a decade, Joy Harjo -- the first Native American named Poet Laureate of the United States -- digs deep into the indigenous red earth and the shared languages of music to sing, speak and play a stunningly original musical meditation that seeks healing for a troubled world -- I Pray for My Enemies, newly released in March 2021.
 

Collaborating with producer and engineer Barrett Martin on this unique new album, Harjo brings a fresh identity to the poetry and songs that have made her a renowned poet of the Muscogee Creek Nation and one of the most authentic and compelling voices of our times.
 

In a recent interview Harjo said, "The concept for I Pray for My Enemies began with an urgent need to deal with discord, opposition. It could have been on a tribal, national or a personal level. I no longer remember. The urgency had a heartbeat and in any gathering of two or more, perhaps the whole planet, our hearts lean to entrainment -- that is, to beat together."
 

Latin Grammy-winning producer, composer and founding father of the historic Seattle music scene, Barrett Martin brings a new dimension to Harjo's unique sound-world -- her words and music spoken, sung and explored in a vibrant mix of classic instrumental sounds. Harjo and Martin describe it as "funkified spoken word" inspiring "elegant jazz, urban soul, and inner city, reservation grit." Harjo sings and speaks her poetry, as well as playing saxophone and flute, on an album she describes as "very much of-the-moment."
 

Martin holds it all together with drums, upright bass, keyboards and production duties on I Pray for My Enemies. He assembled an all-star band to explore Harjo's work, featuring Peter Buck (R.E.M.) on electric guitar and feedback; Mike McCready (Pearl Jam) on electric guitar solos; Krist Novoselic (Nirvana) on acoustic guitar; and Rich Robinson (Black Crowes) on electric guitar solos. Additional players include renowned Iraqi oud master Rahim Alhaj; trumpeter Dave Carter and percussionist/backing vocalist Lisette Garcia. Harjo's stepdaughters sing harmony vocals, and her husband Owen Sapulpa plays surdo drum on the album. 

 

Harjo defines songs and poems as distinctly different expressions, and both are featured in the 16 tracks that make up I Pray for My Enemies. Her words and music, older and newer, get a fresh new identity here. The album opens, however, with a traditional Muscogee song "Allay Na Lee No." "Music travels," she says, adding, "It travels through history, ancestors and especially loves ports and waterways."
 

Some of Harjo's defining poems appear here -- "An American Sunrise," "Fear," "Running" and "Remember" -- refracting her own experience as a Native American woman of her culturally defining generation. "Calling the Spirit Back," from an early collection of Harjo's poems, and the new song "How Love Blows Through the Trees" -- written when COVID-19 reached her home in Tulsa, OK -- echo the suffering of a world experiencing a pandemic.
 

"Once the World Was Perfect" is based on a version of a Muscogee Creek creation story, which describes a time similar to now. She says, "We lost our way in the dark, forgot who we were, then had to find our way again."
 

Vignettes and "licks" of songs and poems also appear on I Pray for My Enemies, ranging from the epiphany of "We Emerged from Night in Clothes of Sunrise" to the playful "trickster" piece "Rabbit Invents the Saxophone." Both feature Harjo's soulful sax. "Stomp All Night" delivers all the primal energy the title suggests, inspired by Muscogee Creek social dances. Harjo's poetic music is just the medicine the world need at this time.

"Things are Looking Native"

Nicholas Galanin is a multi-disciplinary artist and musician of mixed Tlingit/Aleut and non-Native ancestry. His work often explores a dialogue of change and identity between Native and non-Native communities. Born in Sitka, Alaska, Galanin first learned to work with jewelry and light metals, apprenticing with his father. He received a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Design and Silversmithing at London Guildhall University in England, and a Masters of Fine Arts in indigenous visual arts at Massey University in New Zealand. Being trained in both traditional and contemporary approaches in art, he pursues and merges both, exploring the questions of identity, misinterpretation and cultural appropriation.
 

Things are Looking Native, Native's Looking Whiter was the centerpiece of "Unsettled," a 2012 exhibit hosted by the Nevada Museum of Art. It is a digital print that bisects and combines two photographs. On the left is a 1906 Edward S. Curtis image entitled "Tewa Girl," a photograph of an unnamed Hopi-Tewa girl with a traditional "squash blossom" or "butterfly whorl" hairstyle. The right half of the photo-montage depicts Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia from the 1977 film Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope with her classic "cinnamon roll" hair style. Galanin's piece is intended as a commentary on cultural appropriation in popular media, which is largely dominated by white actors and directors.
 

Edward S. Curtis's great body of work, while beautifully executed artistically and doubtlessly valuable, has often been criticized. Curtis presented himself as a scientist as well as the artist, documenting the real Indians of North America in their environment. However, by the time Curtis took his first photograph in the 1890s, the noble savage he presented to the public no longer existed. He has also been known to stage his images to look more Native at the time, for example removing or retouching contemporary items in his photos. Each of the images used for Galanin's art piece represent different aspects of cultural appropriation. One--the desire to depict it in an unchanging, romanticized way as a vanishing race; the other--blatantly reusing a piece of cultural heritage while disposing of all Native elements of it.

"Angakusajaujuq: The Shaman's Apprentice"

In the 1980s, an Inuit elder told Nunavut Canadian filmmaker Zacharias Kunuk a story about a young female apprentice who was learning shamanism from her grandmother. In the story, a sick man breaks a taboo and needs to be healed by a shaman. The young woman and her grandmother travel to the underworld, or "the one below," to find the answers to the man's sickness. The shaman-in-training discovers she must believe the teachings of her grandmother and mentor and to control her fears while encountering challenges and dark spirits. Three years ago, the acclaimed Inuit filmmaker began turning the story into a 20-minute animated film, which was named the Best Canadian Short at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2021. Members of the awards jury at this year’s event released the following statement: 

 

"Zacharias Kunuk's Angakusajaujuq: The Shaman's Apprentice is an enthralling stop-motion that encapsulates an array of textures, sound, and nuanced expressions that collectively invite you into the apprentice's journey in learning traditional knowledge and caring for community while confronting your own fears. You can't help but feel the questions asked of the apprentice are for us all to consider: Who are you? What have you learned?"

 

Kunuk took the world by storm in 2001 when Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner had its world premiere at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival. The film, which won the Golden Camera Award at Cannes, was the first Canadian dramatic feature film ever to be written, directed and acted entirely in the Inuktitut language. Set in the ancient past, the film retells an Inuit legend passed down through centuries of oral tradition. It revolves around the title character, whose marriage with his two wives earns him the animosity of the son of the band leader, who kills Atanarjuat's brother and forces Atanarjuat to flee by foot. 

 

Zacharias Kunuk says his latest film project aims to reclaim Inuit pre-Christian spirituality while experimenting with a different form of storytelling--animation. It illustrates a part of Inuit culture that was "hidden" by colonialism, he said. "I see this short film simply as a tool to start talking about shamanism again, to invite Inuit, especially children and younger generations, to be proud of our rich spiritual traditions and feel comfortable to explore and ask questions about shamanism."

 

Kunuk says he has no plans to stop making films, even though he’s now in his 60s. He continues documenting Elders' stories today. He's been recording interviews with Iglulik Elders who reflect on oral teachings they received prior to colonization. He plans to expand that effort to other communities in the future. "That's what I love to do," he said. "I love to interview Elders because all their knowledge is in their heads."

Hopi Elder Thomas Banyacya

I had the opportunity to meet Hopi elder and activist Thomas Banyacya in 1990 when he gave a talk at Central Oregon Community College in Bend, Oregon. Thomas Banyacya was one of four Hopis (the others were David Monongye, Dan Evehema and Dan Katchongva) who were named by elders to reveal Hopi traditional wisdom and teachings, including the Hopi prophecies for the future, to the general public after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan. He spent half a century on a tireless and often thankless Hopi spiritual mission to save the planet from the ravages of modern materialism and greed. He was so steadfast in his devotion to the pacifism, traditions and sovereignty of the Hopi that he spent seven years in jail rather than register for the draft in World War II.  

 

Banyacya told the attendees that the Native peoples of this land were put here by the Creator with instructions to keep this land clean through prayer, meditation, ceremonies and fasting. They believe there is a spirit in every living thing around us, and a spirit in people that makes us choose what to do and correct ourselves when we err. At the present time, much human effort and mineral resources go towards making weaponry, and so nature is turning against us with extreme weather, volcanoes and big winds. These things, he said, are related to the present behavior of mankind. The Hopi elders warned that the white brother might turn away from spiritual ways and use his inventions destructively. We are in a most dangerous period, and prayer and meditation are needed. 
 

At one point, Banyacya showed a painting of a petroglyph known as Prophecy Rock near the Hopi village of Oraibi, explaining the meaning of certain features. One line leading upwards represented an all out materialistic path with success in inventions that could easily lead to self-destruction. Another line represented an alternative spiritual path with a possibility of cleaning up our mess without annihilation. Banyacya said that someday many nations would come together, we would realize the error of our ways, and people would start creating better feeling and harmony and clean up the mess without starting World War III.
 

Hearing Banyacya's message was truly a blessing and an honor. His strong stance on environmentalism, his service to communities and  nations, and his reverence for the traditions and teachings of his people were an inspiration. His words and passion inspired my own activism in environmentalism, Indigenous rights and the ongoing peace movement. Banyacya passed away in 1999 at the age of 89. His message seems very relevant in this time of global crisis.

Return of the Horse Nation

The horse originated in the Americas more than 40 million years ago. After spreading to Asia and Europe, it became extinct in its homeland. In 1493, the horse returned to the Western Hemisphere when Columbus brought a herd of 25 on his second voyage. Back in the Americas, its native land, the horse flourished.
 

For Native peoples, the first sight of a horse must have been terrifying. A Spanish soldier on horseback would appear to be a single monstrous creature. The Spanish used this terror to advance their conquest, sometimes attaching bells to their armor to add more noise and confusion. The Spanish used horses as powerful weapons of conquest and made every effort to keep them out of Native hands.
 

But gradually, Spanish horses became Indian horses, and Native people began to weave a close relationship with the Horse Nation. Strays from colonial ranches and settlements formed wild herds that Native people caught and tamed. Other horses were captured in raids and rebellions against colonial forces. As horses spread across the Americas, they transformed Native lifestyles and became an important ally in fighting the European invaders. As each tribe encountered the horse, they coined a name for it. A number of tribes used names that likened it to the dog, which was used to pull the travois when tribes traveled.
 
The Pueblo Revolt
 
In 1680, after a century of Spanish domination, the Pueblo Indians rose up against their colonial rulers in the region now known as New Mexico. Led by Popé, a Tewa religious leader, they attacked Santa Fe, killing some 400 Spaniards and forcing many more to flee. Hundreds of horses--perhaps more than 1,500--were left behind, the largest number to pass into Native hands at one time. These horses became the ancestors of many tribal herds. The Pueblo people traded horses to neighboring tribes, and the horse population expanded rapidly across North America. Spain's monopoly of horses in the Americas was over.
 
In the West, horses dispersed quickly along Native American trading routes--first from the Pueblo to the Navajo, Ute, and Apache. The Comanche on the southern Plains traded them north to their kinsmen the Shoshone. These were among the first tribes to incorporate horses into their way of life. By 1700 horses had reached tribes in the far northwest--the Bannock, Nez Perce, Cayuse, Umatilla, and others. Trading links sent them east to the River and Mountain Crow and Missouri River tribes.
 
By the late 1700s, virtually every tribe in the West was mounted. Horses strengthened Native communities and helped in the fight for Indian lands. Horses revolutionized Native life and became an integral part of tribal cultures, honored in objects, stories, songs, and ceremonies. Horses changed methods of hunting and warfare, modes of travel, lifestyles, and standards of wealth and prestige. Horses brought abundance: more food from the hunt, more leisure time. Horse ownership, or an association with horses, conferred status and respect within the community.
 
Native peoples forged spiritual relationships with the Horse Nation. Plains tribes embraced the horse as a spirit brother and a link to the supernatural realm, and incorporated the horse into ceremonies. Embodiments of beauty, courage, and healing power, images of horses on ceremonial objects represent this spiritual connection. Horse visions are still reported by traditional believers who seek knowledge and strength through fasting and vision quests. Although visions are intensely personal, some may be shared through song, performance, and art.
 
Among Native American tribes today, the horse is a symbol of freedom--and protest as a way to achieve this freedom. Horses are an integral part of life for many Indigenous people of this country, so it’s no surprise the animals play a significant role in demonstrations, from the Dakota Access Pipeline protests at Standing Rock to the annual Dakota 38 + 2 Memorial Ride that honors those Dakota warriors killed in the largest mass execution in U.S. history. The medicine power of the Sunktanka Oyate (the Horse Nation in Dakota language) has helped strengthen, heal and empower Native people and youth through these efforts.

Laguna Pueblo Author Leslie Marmon Silko

Ceremony
I will tell you something about stories,
[he said]
They aren't just for entertainment.
Don't be fooled
They are all we have, you see,
all we have to fight off illness and death.
You don't have anything
if you don't have the stories.
Their evil is mighty
but it can't stand up to our stories.
So they try to destroy the stories
let the stories be confused or forgotten
They would like that
They would be happy
Because we would be defenseless then.(1)

The above passage is from Laguna Pueblo author Leslie Marmon Silko's acclaimed 1977 novel Ceremony. The excerpt emphasizes the essential role that storytelling plays within the Pueblo culture. It also sums up the repeated attempts of colonial invaders to erase Pueblo culture by destroying its ceremonies. Despite these attempts, which began in 1540 and continued until the 1930s, the core elements of Pueblo myth and ritual have survived. However, as Silko reveals in Ceremony, the years from World War II to the present have brought new threats to the Pueblos, which, although more subtle than the early Spanish conquests, are even more insidious, and must be confronted if the Pueblo culture is to survive.

In Ceremony, Silko portrays the endangered state of the Laguna reservation following World War II. The land has been damaged by runoff from the uranium mining, and a generation of young Pueblo men has been devastated by the war. Ceremony tells the story of Tayo, a wounded returning World War II veteran of mixed Laguna-white ancestry following a short stint at a Los Angeles VA hospital. He is returning to the poverty-stricken Laguna reservation, continuing to suffer from battle fatigue, and is haunted by memories of his cousin Rocky who died in the conflict during the Bataan Death March of 1942. His initial escape from pain leads him to alcoholism, but his Old Grandma and mixed-blood Navajo medicine man Betonie help him through Native ceremonies to develop a greater understanding of the world and his place as a Laguna man.

In his search for healing, Tayo seeks a cure from Ku'oosh, the old medicine man. Ku'oosh realizes that he cannot heal Tayo because, "Some things we can't cure like we used to...not since the white people came." While the return to the old ways helps Tayo, something else is needed to complete his healing ceremony. This is where Betonie, a new kind of healer, comes in. Betonie still wears the traditional clothes of a medicine man and uses the traditional paraphernalia, such as prayer sticks, gourd rattles and sacred herbs. But Betonie also uses contemporary items as healing tools, such as coke bottles, phone books and old gas station calendars with pictures of Indians on them, all common objects on the reservation. When Tayo questions the use of such non-traditional items for his ceremonies, Betonie responds, "In the old days it was simple. A medicine person could get by without all these things. But nowadays..."

Betonie provides Tayo with the blend of tools and faith Tayo needs in order to undertake the completion of the ceremony, which can cure both himself and his people. The key to survival of Pueblo culture, as Silko demonstrates in Ceremony, may be found in allowing traditional Pueblo ceremonies to change to meet the present-day realities of reservation life. It's in this fusion of old and new that the Pueblos may find the healing they so desperately need after suffering nearly 500 years of colonialism.

Ceremony gained immediate acceptance when returning Vietnam war veterans took to the novel's theme of coping, healing and reconciliation between races and people that share the trauma of military actions. It was largely on the strength of this work that literary critic Alan R. Velie named Silko one of his Four Native American Literary Masters, along with N. Scott Momaday, Gerald Vizenor and James Welch. Her publications include Laguna Woman: Poems (1974), Ceremony (1977), Storyteller (1981), Almanac of the Dead (1991), Gardens in the Dunes (1999) and The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir (2010).

1. Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony (Viking Press, 1977), p. 2.

The Navajo Storm Pattern Rug

An excerpt from my soon-to-be released memoir, Riding Spirit Horse: A Journey into Shamanism. 

Years ago, one of my shamanic mentors gifted me an old Navajo "storm pattern rug," recognizable by its large central rectangle connected by zigzag lightning lines to smaller rectangles in each corner, which represent the four directions, winds and sacred mountains of the Navajo. The central rectangle symbolizes the Lake of Emergence, the portal through which their ancient ancestors first emerged to enter the present world. The lightning bolts carry blessings back and forth between the mountaintops, bestowing good spirits on the weaver and her household.

Navajo rugs and blankets are textiles produced by Navajo people of the Four Corners area of the United States. Weaving plays a role in the creation myth of Navajo cosmology. According to Navajo mythology, a spirit being called Spider Woman instructed the women of the Navajo how to build the first loom from exotic materials including sky, earth, sunrays, rock crystal and sheet lightning. Then Spider Woman taught the Navajo how to weave on it. Because of this belief, traditionally there will be an intentional mistake somewhere within the pattern. It is said to prevent the weaver from becoming lost in Spider Woman's web or pattern.

My mentor suggested that I sit on the rug whenever I journey into the spirit world. I took his advice and journeyed at home while sitting on the rug. When I entered a trance, the rug became a mandala-like portal before me. I went through a doorway at the center of the undulating geometric pattern. I came out beneath a numinous web of light that surrounded the planet. The web emanated a blue glow against the black night-time sky above it. Spider Woman descended from the web on a strand of light and stood before me. She looked menacing and I feared being trapped in her web. She told me that I had nothing to fear. She conveyed that she was the weaver of the web of life. She said the Navajo rug would serve as a portal for me to journey into the spirit world.  

I thanked Spider Woman and returned through the portal to my body. When I opened my eyes, I saw a large spider on the rug beside me. I thanked the spider for being there to support my shamanic journey. It was a good omen

Singer, Songwriter Annie Humphrey

Annie Humphrey is an Ojibwe singer, songwriter and visual artist who was born and raised on the Leech Lake Reservation in Northern Minnesota. Her father was a singer and musician and her mother an artist and poet. They showed her that she carried their gifts in her hands too. She has been recording music for three decades. Humphrey's music career began out of pure necessity. With two young children to care for, she began performing at coffee houses and local events. Over the years her songwriting has focused on a specific theme with a message to "Be brave and have a good journey."
 

One of my favorite Humphrey songs is "Spirit Horses" from her first solo release, The Heron Smiled. Activist and poet John Trudell performs with Humphrey on this powerful, moving song. The Heron Smiled won her national recognition as Female Artist of the Year and Best Folk Recording at the 2000 Native American Music Awards. A true form of modern folk music, this album is simply one of the purest, honest and beautiful collections of music I have heard in many years. In 2004, her second recording, Edge of America was released. It's a little darker than her debut album but an inspiring five star release. The title track from this recording was later featured on acclaimed Native American filmmaker Chris Eyre's film Edge of America.
 

Her latest album, Eat What You Kill, was released in 2019. It features poetic lyrics that speak of accountability and gratitude. Her powerful voice pours out over her piano playing, sweeping listeners up in a whirlwind of emotions and feelings. On one of her songs Humphrey sings, "show your babies all I know, live by the stories my mother told." She uses her music and lyrics to pass down stories and a way of life. Another song, "Now She Dances," is about sexual assault. The song is also about climate change. The way women are treated, and the way the earth is treated, are the same. The last track, "Aadzookaan," speaks about the apocalyptic prophecies to the generation coming up. It says don't be fearful because these things are going to happen. The last verse of the song talks about how everything we need is on our land--the medicine, the resources, the food, everything we need. This is why we're going to be okay.
 

Today Humphrey is happily married and has four children and two grandsons. They inspire her spirit and her art. Her special interest is Turtle Heart, a group she founded that works with youth in her community to promote positive lifestyle choices. She continues to write music and perform. In a recent interview she spoke about her music career, saying, "I have more songs I will finish. I don't have a plan in the music field. I've never marketed aggressively. I just plan to keep writing and playing."

Shamanic Initiation Dreams

Many people in today's world are being called by Spirit to become shamans or shamanic practitioners. A yearning exists deep within many of us to reconnect to the natural world. It is a call to a life lived in balance with awareness of Nature, of Spirit and of Self. We live in a culture that has severed itself from Nature and Spirit. Humans have lost touch with the spirit world and the wisdom of inner knowing. The spirits, however, have not forgotten us. They are calling us to a path of environmental sanity, to rejoining the miraculous cycle of Nature. 

Spirit calls us to a path of shamanism in many ways. It can be as dramatic as a life threatening illness or as simple as a dream. Some people receive signs of a shamanic calling through their dreams. Future shamans may dream of spirits and ancestors or hear their voices. Others may have recurring dreams in which they meet certain animal or teacher figures that are manifestations of the very spirits who are calling them. Also, in dreams the candidate is sometimes given initiatory directives and learns which objects will be needed to perform cures. These instructions are given by the spirits and by the older master shamans and are equivalent to an initiation.

 
During a shamanic dream initiation, the candidate usually experiences suffering, death, and resurrection, including a symbolic cutting up of the body, such as dismemberment or disembowelment by ancestral or animal spirits. The candidate dies a symbolic death and is then restored and brought back to life, whole and empowered. Sometimes initiation dreams begin even in childhood. Usually, the premonitory dreams of future shamans are followed by mortal illnesses if they are not rightly respected.
 

The souls of the dead are regarded as a source of shamanic powers among some tribes like the Paviotso, the Shoshone, the Paiute, the Lillooet, and the Thompson Salish. In northern California this method of bestowing shamanic powers is widespread. The Yurok shamans dream of a dead man, usually a shaman. Among the Sinkyone the power is sometimes received in dreams in which the candidate's deceased relatives appear; the Wintu also become shamans after such dreams, especially if they dream of their own dead children. In the Shasta tribe the first indication of shamanic power follows dreams of a departed mother, father, or ancestor.

 
Among the Mohave and the Yuma of southern California, power comes from the mythical beings who transmitted it to shamans at the beginning of the world. Transmission takes place in dreams and includes an initiation scenario. In their dreams the Yuma shamans witness the beginning of the world and experience mythical times. Such dreams may include a mystical journey to the archetypal Cosmic Tree or World Tree. Among the Maricopa, initiatory dreams involve a spirit taking the future shaman's soul and leading it from mountain to mountain, each time revealing songs and cures. Ultimately, it is the spirits who choose and make the shaman.

Winona LaDuke: Native Environmentalism

I had the opportunity to meet Winona LaDuke and hear her speak at a conference years ago. LaDuke is a renowned Anishinaabe environmentalist, economist, writer and past two time vice-presidential candidate (with Ralph Nader), known for her work on tribal land claims and preservation, as well as women's rights. She is from the Makwa Dodaem (Bear Clan) of the White Earth Reservation in northern Minnesota. LaDuke was raised in Ashland Oregon, the daughter of Betty Bernstein and Vincent (Sun Bear) LaDuke. Her Anishinaabe father worked as an actor in Hollywood in supporting roles in Western movies before establishing himself as an author and spiritual leader in the 1980's. Her mother is an artist and writer who has gained an international reputation for her murals, paintings and sketches.

LaDuke attended Harvard University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Antioch University. She has testified at the United Nations, U.S. Congress, state hearings, and is an expert witness on economics and the environment. She advocates primarily for the protection of the environment and the rights of women. In 1985, LaDuke helped found the Indigenous Women's Network. She worked with the Native organization Women of All Red Nations to publicize American forced sterilization of Native American women. In 1989, LaDuke founded the White Earth Land Recovery Project in Minnesota with the proceeds of a human rights award from Reebok. The goal is to buy back land in the White Earth Indian Reservation that non-Natives bought and to create enterprises that provide work to Anishinaabe.

LaDuke is humorous, enlightening and above all political. She speaks with a Native voice without altering her language for non-Natives. Her words differ from establishment thinking and offer new ways of understanding the world and the solutions we need for the great issues of climate change. She conveys a beautiful and daring vision of political, spiritual and ecological transformation. LaDuke spoke at length about Native environmental issues and challenges. Despite making up a tiny fraction of the world's population, Indigenous peoples hold ancestral rights to some 65 percent of the planet. This poignant fact conveys the enormous role that Native peoples play not only as environmental stewards, but as political actors on the global stage.
 

All over the world, Native peoples are engaged in battles with hostile corporations and governments that claim the right to set aside small reserves for Native people, and then to seize the rest of their traditional territory. They are confronting the destructive practices of industry and leading the charge against climate change, while defending the rivers, forests and food systems that we all depend on. At the same time, they are blocking governments from eroding basic rights and freedoms and turning to the courts of the world to remedy over 500 years of historical wrongs. Native peoples are putting their lives on the line and fighting back for political autonomy and land rights. And all the while, they are breathing new life into the biocultural heritage that has the potential to sustain the entire human race.
 

Native Americans often articulate alternative environmental perspectives and relationships to the natural world. Indigenous mythologies and oral traditions express a non-anthropocentric environmental ethic. Indigenous groups offer ancient tried-and-tested knowledge and wisdom based on their own locally developed practices of resource use. And, as Native peoples themselves have insisted for centuries, they often understand and exhibit a holistic, interconnected and interdependent relationship to particular landscapes and to the totality of life, animate and inanimate, found there.
 

Perhaps the most important aspect of Indigenous cosmology is the conception of creation as a living process, resulting in a living universe in which a kinship exists between all things. Thus the Mother Earth is a living being, as are the Sun, Stars and the Moon. Hence the Creators are our family, our Grandparents or Parents, and all of their creations are children who are also our relations.

LaDuke captured the essence of this concept when she said: "Native American teachings describe the relations all around--animals, fish, trees, and rocks--as our brothers, sisters, uncles, and grandpas...These relations are honored in ceremony, song, story, and life that keep relations close--to buffalo, sturgeon, salmon, turtles, bears, wolves, and panthers. These are our older relatives--the ones who came before and taught us how to live."
 

The industrialized West is largely unaware of how Indigenous societies have functioned, and the strengths they possess that industrial cultures have lacked. Our notions of progress are based on the idea that high tech means better and that industrial cultures are somehow more advanced socially. The current state of our threatened environment demands that communication channels be opened for dialogue and engagement with Native environmental ethics.  
 

When describing Indigenous environmental activism, LaDuke said, "Grassroots and land-based struggles characterize most of Native environmentalism. We are nations of people with distinct land areas, and our leadership and direction emerge from the land up." Each nation and community has its own unique cultural traditions linked to the land. 

LaDuke detailed how different groups of Native people are contending with environmental issues and are seeking to address them at the local, community level. They are also forming national and international organizations that seek to help individual nations, in large part through information sharing and technical assistance. In the final analysis, however, each nation, reserve, or community has to confront its own issues and develop its own leadership. This must be stressed over and over again: each sovereign Native nation will deal with its own environmental issues in its own way. There is no single Native American government that can develop a collective Indigenous response to the crisis we all face.

LaDuke emphasized that the environmental awareness of many Native American groups translates into a high level of respect for women in their communities. A good deal of evidence has shown that when women have high status, education, and choices, they tend to greatly enrich a community and to stabilize population growth. Many traditional American societies have been able to maintain balance with their environments because of the high status of women, a long period of nursing for infants, and/or the control of reproductive decisions by women. Many of the leaders in the Native struggle today are women.

LaDuke pointed out that respect and humility form the foundation of Native lifeways, since they not only lead to minimal exploitation of other living things but also preclude the arrogance of colonial missionary activity, secular imperialism, and the oppressive patriarchy. She noted that: "In each deliberation we consider the impact on the seventh generation from now. Everything we have today we inherited, we are very, very fortunate today that our ancestors were strong people. We’re very, very fortunate that our ancestors took care of this land so well. We also know that those who are not yet here are counting on us not to mess this up…they’re counting on us to make sure that there will be water for them to drink, that there will still be fish, that the air will not be so poisoned or so hot that they cannot live."
 

Native people are not only trying to clean up uranium tailings, purify polluted water, and mount opposition to fossil fuel extraction; they are also continuing their spiritual ways of seeking to celebrate and support all life by means of ceremonies and prayers. As LaDuke told us in closing: "In our communities, Native environmentalists sing centuries-old songs to renew life, to give thanks for the strawberries, to call home fish, and to thank Mother Earth for her blessings."

Pipestone's Sacred Story

On Aug. 25, 1937, the U.S. established Pipestone National Monument in Southwest Minnesota. The monument covers 301 acres and includes quarry pits and the prairie landscape surrounding them. Today indigenous people from across North America come to the site to work the pipestone at 56 active pits, offering up the soft red stone so famously used for ceremonial pipes and other items. A gentle slope marks the eastern edge of a long plateau that begins in the Dakotas and runs southeast to Iowa. In Pipestone County, the slope is broken by stone outcroppings that native peoples have quarried for centuries.
 

For Native Americans, this land is sacred. For the Oceti Sakowin, the people of the Seven Council Fires, which includes Dakota and Lakota speaking tribes, it’s a place of creation. Among the Oceti Sakowin, the Yankton Sioux of South Dakota are known as the protectors of the quarry. Though pipestone exists at many locations in North America, the quarries at Pipestone National Monument became the preferred source of pipestone among tribes living on the Great Plains because of the quality of the stone.

Pipestone is a relatively soft stone that’s well-suited to hand carving. However, it’s typically found sandwiched between extremely hard layers of Sioux quartzite, and extracting the stone can be hard work. Contemporary indigenous people maintain the tradition of hand-quarrying stone using only sledgehammers, chisels, pry bars and wedges. They’re taught to use all the quarried stone, if possible, or return it to Mother Earth. Over the years, skilled artisans have created many pipe designs, including long-stemmed pipes, elbow and disk forms and a T-shaped calumet. Carvers also have made elaborate animal and human effigies.
 

Oral traditions of the Oceti Sakowin tell how pipestone was created by the red blood of the ancestors, and of how smoke carries prayers to the Great Spirit, making the pipes created from the red rock highly sacred. Pipestone pipes have been, and are still, used in ceremonies, given as gifts and traded. Native Americans store pipe bowls, stems and tobacco with other sacred objects. They also bury pipes with the dead. Sacred pipes have inspired stories that have been passed down for generations.
 

According to Lakota legend, the first pipe was brought to Earth 19 generations ago by a divine messenger known as White Buffalo Calf Woman (known in the Lakota language as Pte-san Win-yan). The pipe was given to the people who would not forget--the Oceti Sakowin, or Seven Council Fires of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota nations. The Buffalo Calf Woman came to the tribes when there was a great famine and instructed them about living in balance with nature. She gifted the people with a sacred bundle containing the White Buffalo Calf Pipe, which still exists to this day and is kept by Chief Arvol Looking Horse of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe. Other members of the tribes are also pipe carriers: stewards entrusted with the care of particular ceremonial and personal pipes.
 

White Buffalo Calf Woman taught them all the things they needed to know about making, handling and caring for the pipe, and about how to use it for praying. She explained to the people that the pipe was a symbol of everything in the world. She told them that the red stone bowl of the pipe represented the Earth Mother and the feminine aspects of the world. The buffalo calf carved in the stone represented all the four-legged animals which live upon the Mother. She told them that the wooden pipe stem represented the Sky Father, the plants and the masculine aspects of the world.
 

The Buffalo Calf Woman explained that when the stem and bowl were joined, they symbolized a union and a balance between the sacred masculine and the sacred feminine. She told them that the smoking of the pipe linked the smoker to all things in the universe. The smoke from the pipe carried the prayers of the people directly to the Creator. When the pipe was used properly, the buffalo would return and the people would be able to eat well.
 

Over a period of four days, White Buffalo Calf Woman instructed the people in the Seven Sacred Rites: the seven traditional rituals that use the sacred pipe. When the teaching of the sacred rites was complete, she told the people that she must return to the spirit world. She asked them to honor the teachings of the pipe and to keep it in a sacred manner. Before leaving, the woman told them that within her were four ages, and that she would look upon the people in each age, returning at the end of the fourth age to restore harmony and balance to a troubled world. She said she would send a sign that her return was near in the form of an unusual buffalo, which would be born white.
 

The holy woman then took leave of the people. As she walked away, she stopped and rolled over four times, changing appearance each time. The first time, she turned into a black buffalo calf; the second time into a red one; the third time into a yellow buckskin one; and finally, the fourth time she rolled over, she turned into a white buffalo calf. These four colors then became associated with the powers of the four directions for the Lakota. The holy entity then disappeared over the horizon. It is said after that day the people honored their pipe, and the buffalo were plentiful.