Tag: Native American

Bad Indians

by 8hummingbirdway

A Tribal Memoir by Deborah A Miranda

I resumed reading this book this morning after a month or so. It is breaking my heart. But those are just words. After I read all I could this morning I held the book against my heart and felt such grief. Just a few tears where there should be rivers.

There have been rivers.

The first part of the book tells the story of the “Mission Indians” of California, who were of multiple tribes and who were displaced, enslaved, and broken from the 1770s to the 1830s.

This brokenness continues today in their descendants. There is so much loss – of self, of knowledge, of pride, of well-being, of sacred ways, of connection to Earth, of the ability to raise and protect one’s children, of language, of truth.

I am not saying very much, I know. It is too much.

Truth is told in this book in a personal and heart-breaking way.

It was difficult to read at first; now I am gulping it down.

At first I encountered simply anger. I thought I did not want to read angry bitterness. But I pushed on because part of my current journey is to read the truth of the tribal people in this country. And anger is part of it, of course – as uncomfortable as that might be.

I barely touched tribalism in the 3 countries I visited in Africa this February.

This feather of a touch has awakened a yearning within me for the richness of the ancient ways. And of course – one of the places to look is to the people and the stories of the tribes of this land – where I was born and have lived my life.

I did not know anything about the native people in California. I have already learned, in the first section of the book, a great deal.

Peeking into the next section, I have discovered that a law was passed in the early 1850’s that facilitated killing Indians from the California goldfields. $25 was paid for a male body part (a scalp, a hand) and $5 for a female body part. Congress appropriated and paid out over one million dollars for this service.

Nixon revoked this law in 1970.

There is so much we do not know of the effort to rip those close to the Earth from their ancient and sacred ways …and to simply use humans for personal gain.

This book is historic, tragic, personal, generous, and so much more.

It is brave and proud.

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More about my sacred pipe

by 8hummingbirdway

[Back in early February, I started to write this post. It links back to a prior post about the Native American leg of my spiritual journey in this life I’m living. I have thought often about finishing the story, but it was hard to write. I did not navigate events in the way I would have liked to.

If you want to know more about my religious background and my starting place, you can also read about my early experience with Christianity.]

My spiritual search began in my late 20s. I was drawn to Earth-based spirituality, and I knew enough about the practices of those who inhabited this land before us that they honored Earth, Nature, the cycles of the seasons and of the sun and moon, as well as animal and plant spirits. I researched and studied about various tribes for a couple of years.

It turned out that my destination was not to align fully with Native American spirituality, as you will see. However it gifted me with a sacred pipe ceremony. I learned (from the book Return of the Bird Tribes by Ken Carey) this ceremony and a beautiful story of it’s origin in my 30s brought me a way to connect with my deepest self, and to make decisions with an awareness of “All that is.”

This is the part of the story I didn’t share earlier, about how I moved on in my 30s from the Native American chapter of my search …

I shared this sacred practice of the pipe ceremony with friends and family. It was a beautiful way to navigate life and to approach decision-making and sometimes even to speak difficult words or resolve disharmony. Read more about my experience with the pipe and the pipe ceremony here.

Eventually I extended myself to share the pipe ceremony with more people. I arranged with a friend, Steve, who offered a space for classes and small concerts – to offer the pipe story and ceremony there. In the small empty carpeted room I constructed a circle with branches and marked the 4 directions, each person entering at the East, the place of beginnings. We all sat on the floor and I read the story of White Buffalo Calf Woman bringing the pipe to the Soiux …then we smoked the pipe together as the ceremony instructs.

It was lovely. I met a neighbor who I hadn’t known and about 8 or 10 other people showed up. Afterward we talked and then people dispersed.

I had a jar for donations and I raised about $12 that went toward paying my babysitter that evening.

I decided to do it again and Steve advertised in the Hartford newspaper that I would be sharing the pipe ceremony for donations. And the trouble began. A non-native was making money from the sacred tribal traditions.

I knew that people had co-opted native practices, such as sweat lodges and vision quests – and capitalized upon them. I didn’t perceive myself in that light, but I can see from where I now stand that there is a fine line …and who knows where I was going with this?

The descendants of the people my ancestors and their leaders betrayed saw yet another betrayal. People started calling me in concern and anger. Some people were openhearted and listened to my explanation of how I came to share the pipe with others. The pipe-carrier of the Mohegan Nation and I had a very long talk and he was fine with what I was doing.

Some did not want to know what I had to say. Suddenly I was facing anger and threats against my family and my home.

I managed to turn the advertised sharing of the pipe ceremony into a meeting with some tribal leaders in the Hartford area. I was young and did not navigate this meeting well. I was afraid and did not speak when I could have.

Later I realized that I should have led the meeting, explaining my journey to the pipe (as I had with the pipe-carrier). But the threats had frightened me. I sat and waited, disempowered by my fear. I was told that a chief was here. I was made to understand that he was wasting his time. Later I understood what happened, and I have forgiven myself for my lack.

I did not attempt to share the pipe again with others not close to me, although my relationship with the pipe continued for many years after I left Connecticut.

I was looking for a spiritual home, but this did not show up as being a path for me. I did not find a person who would share with me, or invite me to share in Native American spiritual gatherings or experiences. I assumed they were closed to outsiders because of my experience, but I don’t know that it was true. With all that occurred on this continent I would not blame them if it was true. Or maybe I was simply too scared to ask.

I cannot recall who told me that I should turn to my own heritage, but that’s what I did.

Later, a teacher of sacred ways of some earth-based European traditions said to me that we were born on this soil and we live our lives on this soil and some of the voices and elements that speak to us carry Native ways. This helped me to make peace with myself and what had happened with attempting to share my pipe.

I didn’t understand until writing this post, how deeply this experience aligns with and informs my current orientation about tribal ways, the ancient ways that have gifted me with a way to heal and to help others. I am grateful now for my experience with the Mohegan community in CT. And I acknowledge this experience as a part of my path and understanding of the healing.

Since I am living on this continent, I expect that my studies on tribal experience and ways will focus to some degree on the tribes of this land, as well as on the African connections I now have.

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Tribal Ways on Planet Earth

by 8hummingbirdway

I have long perceived tribalism as a sacred way of living.

Until very recently, my perception and understanding of tribal ways has largely been informed by my limited knowledge of Native American tribes. There is something about this way of life that tugs strongly on my soul.

In my early 20s I first came to feel that I was born in the wrong time; I still yearn for greater simplicity, even though it comes along with a harder life, and sometimes a shorter one. The richness to me of connection to nature and to each other, and of simplicity seems incalculable in comparison to our current path of what I would call Disconnection.

My deepest connection, even in childhood, has been to the Land and to Trees and to Water and to Music and to Loved Ones and to other simple aspects of life that I now understand connect me to “Spirit.”

My knowledge early in life was largely of this land, North America, and it’s history. When I looked back in time, I looked to homesteading and growing one’s own food, having access to nature, including plants and animals. A life like this is also more connected to the cycles of nature.

In my late 20s and 30s I researched and learned about Native American history, practices, and beliefs. What I learned aligned with my understanding of what is important and valueable in this life. And so when I looked to the past, I now had a broader view, which included the four directions, the four elements, ways of planting according to natural cycles, animal and plant spirits, and other sacred tribal ways.

My knowledge of Native American tribal ways also includes stories such as “Dances with Wolves,” The Education of Little Tree, and Return of the Bird Tribes. All of these stories bring me to tears. These tears are not unrelated to the tears I held back when I visited the Bulango Refugee Camp in Democratic Republic of Congo, where the refugees have been very recently ousted from their ancestral (tribal) lands, and are now reorienting themselves in a strange place with no connection to their longheld and sacred ways.

Another experience that informed my understanding of my own yearnings for deep connection was participating in and leading full moon gatherings for over 30 years, something I will share about another time. This practice brought to me a deeper awareness of natural cycles, and simple practices that align with gratitude, wisdom, compassion, and more.

The final aspect that connects me to tribal ways is my shamanic work, which includes journey circles and shamanic healing. I could write a great deal about this. For now, I will simply say that it is sacred work that originates with a tribal understanding of the soul. And I must include the fact that Ancestors, the Four Elements, as well as Animal Spirits and Plant Spirits, Great Spirit or Creator, and our Natural World and Cycles play significant roles in tribal ways of life and perception, in my work, and in my life.

My visit to Africa has me returning to the deepest inquiries of my soul with new information, a broader perspective, and some questions.

I have a great deal more to say regarding these matters.

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My Native American journey

by 8hummingbirdway

I have recently been writing about my spiritual search and journey in my life.

My search began as I was sitting in the home of my mother-in-law (from my first marriage) as she was dying. Her death raised questions for me that informed my search going forward. Mary Cuddihy Diefendorf was a Catholic mystic and she had some compelling books on her bookshelf – a couple about Native American spirituality. I took them with me after her death, knowing that she would be glad to have me take an interest. These books first sparked my interest in answering important questions and in Native American spiritual beliefs.

A moment to tell about Mary. She was a kind and loving person who carried wisdom. My favorite memory of her is the way she fully embraced my sister’s child, who I had adopted, as her own grandchild. (Not everyone in the family felt this way.) One of my favorite photographs is of her on the front steps of her home in heart shaped glasses – laughing along with my daughter and her cousin – both about 4. I also thank Mary for the start of my journey and for her books which landed me where I am today.

A book that will forever be on my bookshelf is Return of the Bird Tribes by Ken Carey. It holds many stories, including a story of Hiawatha as a young man. Hiawatha was a legendary chief (c. 1450) of the Onondaga tribe of North American Indians. He is known most famously for uniting the Five Nations—Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida and Mohawk—into a political confederacy of 5 chiefs which was the basis for the United States structure of government, with it’s 3 branches: legislative, executive, and judicial.

[Interestingly, the fact that the elder women of the tribes held the highest power was not adopted by our forefathers. Each chief worked with his clan mother and any chief could be removed by the women of the tribe. Of course American women were not yet free citizens, but were the property of their father or husband when our government was formed, and not full citizens until 1922, and not allowed to open a bank account until 1974. They couldn’t very well hold real responsibility.]

My favorite story in this book was the story of White Buffalo Calf Woman who brought the pipe to the Sioux. I don’t think I have ever been so moved by anything I have read. I have wept every time I’ve read it. For the beautiful telling, for the loss of so much – so many people, their ways of life and the nature of life itself on this continent. This story tells of how White Buffalo Calf Woman brought the peace pipe to a tribal gathering and instructed the Sioux Chief and his people in the sacred ritual of smoking tobacco together. There were seven rounds of passing the pipe. Each person in the gathering smoked once for Great Spirit, then one smoke each for Mother Earth, the animals, the Ongwhehonwhe (humans who remain true to reality), the spirit beings that surround the individual smoker, and 6 people you would like to see especially blessed. “The seventh smoke, she explained must always be taken in silence; for it was offered to the Great Being from which every being was drawn. For that sacred mystery at the source of life, it was better, she said, to have no words.”

The gift of the pipe changed everything for the members of the tribe. I know from personal experience that a question considered with these 7 aspects in one’s heart results in a wiser, more compassionate, and more expansive decision. This is the gift of the pipe ceremony and a part of the heritage of the Sioux.

I was in my 40s and I wanted to bring this practice into my life. A friend told me of a woman in Illinois named Elizabeth Standing Badger who made sacred pipes. He had her address and I wrote to her. I was asked to write another letter – about myself and about why I wanted the pipe. I did, and she consented to make a personal pipe for me. I had sent her payment, and months later I received a beautiful yet simple pipe and a letter telling me of her process in making it for me, including holding it outside through 2 thunderstorms. (If I had truly been wise, I would have saved that letter, and I would know what tribe Elizabeth was from.) There was a snake on it – as I had explained that I felt closely aligned with Snake – creature of change and transformation (as demonstrated by the shedding of skin). As I write, I remember other symbols that decorated the pipe in yellow, orange and red. It is packed away now, from our recent move, in a box with other sacred items.

I have not used the pipe for many years. The part of the stem that goes into the bowl needs work, which I started, and hope to pick up again when the time is right.

I was later told that a person should make their own pipe, but I would not have known how. My need felt immediate, and I am deeply grateful for my pipe. Deep thanks also to Elizabeth Standing Badger, wherever she may be.

I used my pipe as White Buffalo Calf Woman instructed for the better part of 2 decades, At times I smoked daily, and later weekly, or as needed. I smoked the seven smokes mostly on my own, but sometimes with others – especially when important things were to be said or decisions were to be made.

[I had smoked cigarettes as a teenager, had quit in my early 20s, and I initially used kinnikinnick in my pipe, a Native American combination of leaves. I was later drawn to smoke pure organic tobacco, and I experienced an ebb and flow with it for several years.]

I have taken out my pipe at this writing and reminder, and it now sits in my work space, calling to me.

When I return to the pipe, it will be with a more deep and full understanding of the 7 smokes, especially the 5th smoke to the spirit beings that surround me. These are my helping spirits, who I journey to and now know well – through my Shamanic training and work. This work aligns with all tribal origins on all 7 continents. My helping spirits are blessed allies who support me on my path. This help is available to all.

There is more to this story, which I will tell another day, telling of how and why my search turned to other sources of the sacred that are not strictly Native American.

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