Completely Magical.
Sat at Loka’s Café, working on my blog. Felt tense, sadness. I tried to shake off my uneasy feelings by taking the walking path around the park behind Kit Carson. Came across a cemetery of great Taos leaders. I stopped in my tracks. A sign read of the fear that swept the people when New Mexico was being annexed by the United States. They were afraid that their land would be taken. Not only the natives, who held agreements only with Mexico, I realized also the Mexicans of that area must also have been fearful to become part of the U.S. as well, with lower status, potential social marginalization and economic oppression. It was beginning to make sense why I felt fear and division between natives, whites, and the Spanish.
After driving by again and again, drawn in, I finally stopped at a gem shop down the road. Spent over an hour in there. I decided that when I visit the Taos Pueblo, I would give a gift to someone and it would help dissipate division felt by the people and the land. Finally found that one piece with the perfect qualities.
It was the only one of its kind, no marked price. It helped to dissipate all the intense energy in the environment and myself. On my way to Patti Tronolone’s house for dinner, I stopped at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. A famous site, yet unassuming, sitting amongst the adobe homes and opened shops. I entered. The new stone in hand. Silent. Heavy air with sacredness. Only one there – empty. Large stain glass windows, catching the light of the setting sun. A place to honor Mother Mary, the Black and White Madonna. I stood before the front of the church, then back of the church. I sat at pew and meditated. The last few rays illuminating the spot I sat. Then prayed over the stone. The White people are of the mind, of consciousness. Too much ego. Taos Pueblo – of Earth, some sadness. Latin Americans – heart, some closedness. Bring all back into balance. Share gifts with other groups. Cleansing. Silence. Neutralizing. Must give stone to someone at Pueblo tomorrow. Called to the lake. Worked with it. Want to go even though prohibited. I refer to the sacred Blue Lake. I didn’t know anything about it. All I knew is that I felt it, I am drawn, and it is not opened to outsiders. I made my way to Patti’s home. Delicious, homemade dinner. Great sharing. So tired. Long day. 45 minutes to the Leahy’s house. Drag myself to bed. Thursday morning, talked to mom. Old karma for me at Pueblo. Would probably gift to young man rather than elder. She felt I would go to lake. The Taos people are the only Pueblo tribe that has not been dislocated from their land. The sacred Taos Mountain with Blue Lake, Deer Lake, Turtle Lake, Eagle’s Nest were taken from them by the American government until about 1972. Many Taos leaders fought their whole lives to return these places to their people. They have been living by many of the old ways still. They pilgrimage on horse or by foot to do ceremony on the mountain. They speak Tiwa, which they have safeguarded by refusing to create a written language out of it. The Pueblo is dwindling in size year after year, as the youth choose to explore cities other towns of greater economic and occupational opportunity, social diversity, and a time of independence. So as I arrived, I registered, was greeted warmly, and was left to wander around and look around the res on a self-guided tour. I thought how am I ever going to find the person I need to meet?? I didn’t feel like walking around and seeing. I wanted to feel and to connect with the land and the people. I felt the impulse to remove my shoes because I would call this sacred ground. At least to me and how I felt walking it. It felt gentler there. More heart than non-Indian territory. As I walk without my shoes, somehow everyone becomes interested. Who is this girl? Soon I approached by a man who asked, “Hey, didn’t I see you at Loka’s café yesterday?” I was impressed he remembered. He said he is an artist and to come check out his gallery a couple pueblos down. Then he pointed to a man selling jewelry at a table. He pointed, that guy wants to know why you aren’t wearing any shoes. So I went over. He asked me questions and I gave him short, simple answers. Then he invited me to sit down by him and he wanted to know more. So I talked about the land. I had tears held back. We talked about healing. His name is Raphael, is 42 years old, divorced and cheated on, and has two boys just a few years younger than me. He is full Taos of the Red Willow Clan and grew up with all the ceremonial ways. Is a drummer and sings traditional songs as well. He lived in NYC for seven years, but has returned to his homeland. He wants to take his boys to NY with him after the younger one graduates high school, so that they can explore life some more off the res. So we had a heart to heart. He understood where I was coming from. He wanted to see the stone I was carrying, so I handed it over. I said it was for him and told him how I brought it to give to someone here and he must be the one. He was very pleased. I mentioned how I was drawn to the Blue Lake, he asked how I knew about it, and asked me poignant questions. He asked what I was doing after this and he offered to show me around the tribal areas. Many people say the Taos are very protective about their ways and sharing them. I did not find this to be true during my visit. Raphael said he also had something to give me. I smiled. After he packed up and I sat by the river for some time, we went over to his family pueblo, where I met his mother and sister. His mother was sewing and invited me to sit down. They were pretty opened. He grabbed a couple things and dragged me back out to my car. He told me where to drive and we circled the sacred Taos Mountain. He explained that he could not take me to the Blue Lake because it is up on the Taos Mountain and there are no roads to get there. Only by horse and foot. But he showed me Eagle’s Nest Lake. We pulled the car over and he pointed out where Blue Lake was on the Mountain. Raphael put on a CD of old ceremonial, prayer songs they still sing today. The recording was of his Great-Uncle and his Grandfather singing in 1952. Beautiful. We drove on and he told me about the traditional races. About why they don’t celebrate Halloween. And, he described his experiences on the East coast, being invited to powwows held only by white people. He did not have a problem with that and it surprised me. In fact, it made me a little uneasy. I am conscientious about ceremonies being conducted properly. Perhaps I am a bit of an old traditionalist. He grew up with the old ways and told me many things. I will not discuss them here because he told me to keep it private. Raphael invited me to come back during their ceremonial times this winter. The deer dance and the turtle dance. I would love to. He gifted me a Kachina with two bears carved and mounted on cedar. He said it would keep me safe. I was also gifted the CD of his elders singing the old prayers. So grateful. We stopped by the river and we did a small ceremony. He brought his sage. We smudged with my Condor feather. I offered tobacco by the river. We finished our drive around the mountain; he played his drum and sang ceremonial songs all the way back. I have been blessed. He wants to be in touch, and called me on Thanksgiving. I felt at home at the Taos Pueblo. I’ll be back.
