Hi Friend,

Sometimes we get to be a small part of part of a realization of some 'big prayers'; prayers that are not just spoken by ourselves for ourselves, but are whispered/sang/spoken/cried for years; for decades; for generations.

This past weekend, Krissy and I got to be a part of such a prayer, in the form of the Homelands PowWow held on the ancestral homelands of the Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Mohican Indians, in the heart of the Berkshire region of Western New England.

About 200 years ago, the Mohican Peoples were pushed out of their homelands and onto a reservation in Wisconsin. In that time, a prayer for return was spoken. Uttered. Cried out. Lamented.

In the last 20 years or so, Shawn Stevens has followed a leading/vision/prayer and has been traveling from his home on the reservation to his ancestral homelands. To get to know - to reMember - the land and the people who are living here now. To open the door for a way for his people to have some kind of a return.

Several years ago, we met Shawn, and then other members of his family, through a gathering on Indigenous Peoples Day that brought together many different indigenous peoples from the broader context of the Berkshires/Hudson Valley and Northeast region, and a few folks like myself; people of European ancestry who are committed to working in these intersections. In that gathering, we all collectively planted a cedar tree at Kirpalu, a meditation/yoga retreat center located in the Berkshires, overlooking a beautiful lake. Elders from multiple nations led adults and children of both indigenous and settler families in prayers with tobacco and songs and spoken words for the People's return, and for greater ecological harmony, for the health of these lands.

Not long after, I heard Shawn speak to what he saw as a next step: a gathering, not necessarily on Indigenous Peoples Day, that was less of a talk-orientated space and instead focused on prayer, song, craft, storytelling, music, and trade: a Pow Wow. Krissy and I both supported this vision.

This last weekend, that Pow wow happened.

Now, the histories of Powwows are a bit complicated, as are many histories of culture. The term itself is an anglicized version of an Algonquin word that originally meant something close to 'medicine man'; the English misused the term to reference gatherings of medicine men and subsequently of native people. (Other stories chart how the term was also used by traveling medicine shows as a term to refer to as a cure-all 'advertised' by a Native dancer). Over time, especially as indigenous peoples’ were forced to move out of their traditional homelands, the term shifted and changed, and indigenous peoples themselves came to use it to refer to dancing for 'show'/performance/showcasing dances for outsiders (including other native people outside of their own community). The Plains Indians are generally credited with creating the first pow wows in the 1800s, arising in part from complex influences of colonization, including tribes engaging with one another in different ways and the desire of white folks to see ‘authentic’ dances that were effectively performances, instead of a more participatory and traditional approach.

A series of federal government legislation cracked down on Native religious, spiritual, cultural, and related actions in the late 1800s. In the US, the 1883 Code of Indian Offenses included banning Indian dances, including Sun Dance and powwows. Similar restrictions happened in Canada. Later participation in a powwow could only happen with the permission of federal authorities. In both countries, leaders of Indian boarding schools actively encouraged their federal government to ‘dissuade the Indians from excessive engagement in dancing... they should not be allowed to dissipate their energies and abandon themselves to demoralizing amusements." (Duncan Scott, 1915, Canada)

This is not only a disgusting thing for someone to say, it also affirms how powerful traditional dancing is for the life of a culture. They would not have tried to squash these dances had the dancing itself not been seen as dangerous to dominant culture.

In 1953, Canada legalized powwows and dancing more generally. In the US, it was a gradual lifting of restrictions; they became more popular during the wave of indigenous activism in the 1970s. More recently, Powwows have spread across the US and Canada, and are often exuberant celebrations of culture, heritage, craft, dance, and relationships.

So for Shawn and others to bring a powwow led by his people to their homelands (its at least a 17-hour drive from Wisconsin to Massachusetts) was a big deal.

I’m shortcutting, here, that middle part of this story…to say that we went from a tree planting to a Powwow completely skips over the substance of the last three years: of relationships that came together and fell apart, of disagreements, conflict, hopes, friendships, and other related initiatives that materialized and that were all also important.

After all, it was during those three years that our friendship with Shawn and some of his family members grew. And it was this friendship that contributed to them reaching out to us to encourage us to come, and which led to them being excited when I wondered about having an informational vending booth.

I don’t think I really realized until we got there that we were amongst only a few non-Mohican vendors or that we were the only booth that was primarily dedicated to sharing information and resources. We were in the outer circle, surrounding the inner circle of dancers and the middle circle of who wandered around. What a powerful place to be….

We showcased some books from our teachers/elders, information about some of our own courses and related resources, the opportunity to join this newsletter, and, mostly, we offered free stickers and had a lot of conversations. Our booth (with a borrowed tent and a borrowed table) quickly became a gathering place for a number of our local friends and their friends, with blankets spilling out all around us, as folks chased our tent’s shade (it was unusually hot for October) and sat around sharing stories.

The Powwow committee's immense local outreach worked - I heard that on the first of the two days there was over a thousand people who attended - some from just down the road, whilst other visitors had traveled a few hours.

During the Grand Entry (very much what it sounds like, showcasing the different dancers and some of the singers), we stood next to some new friends, and found ourselves welling up in tears. This is happening. The people were forced to leave their homes are dancing on their homeland. The mountains are hearing their Peoples’ songs; the language is being spoken. Somehow, somehow this is happening. What a miracle.

I felt caught up in what I can best describe as a long, long story with different temporal dimensions, each of which fed and expanded the other. A historical story that my ancestors were in some way also a part of; a personal story Krissy and I have been a part of in our relationship to this land and to these people; a vocational story I participate in alongside my students, clients and other relationships. A story of dance and song, of craft and trade; of injustice and healing; of grasses and geese and ponds and the tending of a fire.

I took almost no pictures - somehow it didn’t feel right at all, although there was certainly press there and a lot of pictures were taken. Still, I thought that you would all like to see our little corner of a much bigger circle, our table, and some of our more popular stickers.

For you Americans, I hope you find ways for regenerative rest and engagement this indigenous peoples' day.

And for all of you, regardless of where you are, I hope you can feel yourself as part of prayers that are far bigger than are you.